Memorial Day ~ One Long Sunday Blog

"When's Daddy's birthday, Mom?" Kaylee inquired excitedly.
I replied back without lifting my eyes from the morning paper, "September, babe."
"Father's Day comes first, Sissy," Luke chimed in.
"Yep. But do you know what today is?" I asked them with a glimmer of surprise in my voice, "Memorial Day!"
"What's Memorial Day?" Both kiddos wanted to know.

Glad you asked...

We talked about soldiers and how they fight for us to keep our country safe and free. We discussed how we should honor them for their services and be proud of who we are and where we come from. I informed them that all soldiers deserve our respect and support, but on this day, Memorial Day, we especially honor soldiers who have given their lives for our country. We sang "America the Beautiful" learned about the American flag and what its symbols stand for and then we went to watch a parade on the waterfront. Here's a simple snap from today:

Flashback Friday ~ One Long Sunday Blog

Yes, I know it's Saturday. Sometime last night between eating left-over Chinese takeout and watching re-runs of Num3ers, I totally passed out. What can I say? I was tired. So, we're gonna begin this flashback friday series on the wrong path. I'm used to things being a little awry.

This is my great-grandmother, Estelle (isn't that name fabulous?!) She was born in 1890 and looks to be about 30-ish in this photo. I'm gonna guess this was taken sometime in the early 1920's. Can you just imagine being a woman in the 1920's? Her husband probably never would have let her ride this Harley, but she got away with sittin' on it and that, in itself, was surely a thrill for her. "Forget the dishes," I can hear her holler, "I'm gonna try my hand on that hog!" Did they call 'em hogs back then? Haha, anyway, I don't know much about my great-grandmother. I know she was 103 years old when she passed away. I can recall family members referring to her as "crazy grandma" in her final months or years. She developed Alzheimer's and couldn't remember anyone anymore.

Well, I remember her. Even if the memories I have are of stories I've heard and pictures I've seen, I do remember her.

Rest for Lease ~ One Long Sunday Blog

On Monday the baby began her morning in the wee hours, just before 5:00 am. I caught her by the sound of her tiny feet tip-tapping across the hardwood floors. I wrestled her back to bed and attempted to soothe her return to dreamland. Instead, I slipped back in to a coma-like sleep myself and she ran off. She did as she always does and pounced on her big brother 'til he was awake and then the two of them proceeded to tag-team their big sister in an attempt to overthrow the house regime. You see, they know that I don't stand a chance against all three of them and they use it against me.

Before I knew it they were simultaneously asking different things of me. One wanted water, another was ready for oatmeal, and the littlest of all wanted to cuddle in bed. Really? Now you wanna relax?! I cut my losses and get a move on. The rest of the morning went pretty smoothly, but there was a steep edge you could feel in the air. We were all teetering on the brink through our delirious, sleep deprived minds.

Nap time!

Oh, nap time how I love thee! Some down time in the middle of the day does us all some good. Even if the big kids don't nap anymore, they do participate in quiet time and it's a welcome retreat. Or at least it's supposed to be, that is, when the baby actually sleeps! Naw, naw, not today. She's learned to climb out of her play yard of a bed and now finds it quite entertaining to dance out of her room, look me in the eye, and pass off a mischievous smile as she darts back to her room. Over and over and over again we played this little game until quiet time was long over.

I cut my losses again.

The rest of the day was disturbing to say the least, but we made it through. Until dinner when the baby literally fell asleep in her highchair. I cleaned her up, changed her diaper, stuck her in PJs and tossed her in bed. It was 5:15 pm. My mom told me later that night that she'd be up by 10 o'clock ready to play. Why are moms always right?!  10:15 pm and baby appears in the hallway staring me down with heavy, stubborn eyes. We cuddle, we change her diaper, we have a warm bottle of milk, we read Good Dog, Carl, twice. Nothing. I took her in to my bed and snuggled her back to sleep: two kicked ribs, a handful of pulled hair, a poked eye and nearly three hours later. Most importantly, she did it all over again this morning, 5:00 am, not a moment too soon.

So, if you're in the area, this place has rest for lease. Just in case you need some too.

Non-Springy Photo Walk ~ One Long Sunday Blog

Changing seasons always bring me a renewed sense of hope, new inspiration provided by none other than the Creator himself. I look forward to sunny oceanside photos, fiery autumn leaves, & snow dusted Douglas Firs. But spring...oh spring is one of the best & one of the worst. Seriously. I love when the grass begins to grow, the trees begin to bloom, and the flowers begin to sprout, grow, and open. However, I am so attracted to the beauty of flowers that my lens (naturally) is attracted to them too. Before I know it I've shot 2,000 photos this week & 1,999 are of flowers. Haha, ok that's an exaggeration, but just know that it feels that way. Don't get me wrong, I do love flowers, but my mind's eye needs a bit of tickling now and again. So this last weekend, instead of going on a springy photo excursion, I chose to go on an urban, non-springy photo walk.

This is Old Town Beaverton. Didn't have enough time before dinner to make it in to Portland, but there's always next time and this did the trick anyhow.

Of course, the kiddos found flowers to capture. One of their favorite subjects :)

Who has these at their barber shops anymore? LOVE it!

This is some kind of historical society (I forget which one, sorry!) They were featuring quilts and such. Love this old hand crank sewing machine.

 And a hand crank mini-singer :)

 Mmmmmmm...Beaverton Bakery.

Baby, stuck in the wagon :(

Yep, they have their own sweet (working) clock.

The clock's innards. Is that a word used outside of the poultry market?

Dreamin' or droolin' or both.

 The kids thought this alley way was creepy.

 I thought it was cool.

Going up?

I think this was an old washer. It's a planter now.

 It's about time.

She wants out. I let her.

Seriously can't escape it for long. Snapped this once we got home :)

Mother's Day + One Year Older ~ One Long Sunday Blog

I had always wanted children. When I was 10 I'd take the young foster children who stayed with us to the school playground around the block and pretend I was their mother. I'd pack them a snack and bring along a washcloth to clean up their hands and faces before we headed home because that's what mothers do. I used to play Mama to my teddy bear (donned in blue overalls with rainbow suspenders and missing an eye) who was always getting into trouble. I'd have long talks with him about the difference between right and wrong. You know, moral lessons. I dreamed up nursery schemes for boys and girls ('cause I truly looked forward to having both) and I pondered names I might choose (first, middle & sometimes last depending on who I had a crush on at the time.) By the time I was 18 I had two baby outfits I was saving (one boy & one girl, of course) should I be so blessed.

                                      Mothers Day & 28th Birthday 2011 ~  Photo by Kyle.

Then it happened. It really happened! I had an absolutely perfect pregnancy and delivered an absolutely perfect baby girl in March of 2006. Then it happened again. It really happened again! Our healthy, beautiful baby boy came in April of 2007. But wait, it happened again! Seriously. Our sweet, precious baby girl arrived in September 2009. I have been so blessed. Now that I'm 28 years old (today!) and have three incredible munchkins, I am so very overwhelmed with the love I have for them. I am honored to be called their mother.

Happy Mother's Day!

Defeating Fear + Carving Paths ~ One Long Sunday Blog

We checked the weather before we left. We viewed the road cams and, although there was a bit of snow dusting the highway, all seemed well enough. "Besides, it's early and by the time we get there that snow will probably melt off," we thought hopefully. We loaded the van, we strapped in the kids, we hit the road. Oregon Coast, HERE WE COME!!

We reached the first pass over the coast range soon enough and it was snowy, pretty darn snowy, like we should've pulled over and built a snowman, snowy. Kyle slowed down and took it easy. I closed my eyes and prayed. One car in the ditch, two cars in the ditch... "Let's turn around, it's a sign," I blurted out between Hail Mary's. "It's alright babe, I'm takin' it slow," my cool and collected husband assured me.

We began our decent from the first tall mountain and I began to breathe again. Bit by bit the roads became clearer just in time to ascend the next mountain. What was I thinking heading to the beach in February? Didn't I know by now, after 27 years, that this is Oregon?! Too late, we can't turn back. We are half way there and the kids are looking forward to this, I'm looking forward to this. Every corner, every bump, everything made me cringe, but we kept on.

Kyle was a superhero that day. Maintaining his composure while simultaneously keeping his wife and three kids alive. We not only made it to Seaside, but we thoroughly enjoyed every minute we we there. The sun was shining & the wind was still. We built sandcastles, chased waves, raided the candy store, rode the carousel and indulged in delicious take-out. That day we braved the elements, we pushed through even when it felt like maybe we should turn back. We stared fear straight in the face and overcame it.

Sometimes we do (and should) listen to the "signs" around us. They're Somebody's way of telling us "Turn around, this is not your path." Other times it's the voice inside of us, the critic, who tells us we're not good enough to take this road. Staring down the critic within myself is so much harder than any snow covered mountain I've encountered. Revealing myself as an artist to the world means rejection, criticism, and host of other ill-suited energy I'd rather not take on. On the other hand, it also means collaboration and new friendships. It's the voice inside me that has held me back, but I'm not going to be defeated. I'm just gonna take it slow, consider the signs and carve my own path. There's gonna be bumps, unmarked trails, and snow capped mountains on my life's course, but that's a road I'm willing to travel.

My name is KimberlyAnne. I am a photographer. I am a writer. Here I am.