Evolve Studio

As a photog myself, I can highly recommend Evolve Studio.
Kim has 'shot' several of my friends families...newborns and group shots...all are beautiful...all are works of ART.
Here is the Link to her site:
http://www.evolvestudiophoto.com/
She is here locally in Raleighwood...GOOD STUFF yall!

My Future Fighter Pilot...

I am the mother of two really awesome girls ages 16 and 6... my girls (and my son)  can do anything they set their minds to---whatever it is...I never want them to hold back. 'No fear'.
GO FOR IT!
I believe that physical, and mental, 'toughness' is learned through experience...and also having a parent willing to let a child make 'mistakes', take (reasonable) risks and encourage them to 'see what's out there'...
My 'Little One' is one 'tough cookie.'
She's not afraid to climb higher, get dirty/sweaty...handles bugs, worms and frogs--no problem!
She is super strong and can run really fast---(something she is pretty proud of!) Even when she wipes out and gets banged up...she NEVER cries...and always jumps right up and says: 'I'm OK!' She is really brave.
I call her my 'Little Fighter Pilot'. I really can see her flying jets...some day.
Yesterday she had her first encounter with a boy bully.
She (as usual) was running with the 'big boys' after school...climbing on playground equipment...jumping off the top...running fast and playing hard. No worries...and a lot of laughter.
Her good friend 'D' is a really sweet boy who is pals with Little One...he ran over to me and said my girl was 'beewing booweed by some big boyees'...from where I was, she looked OK...but she was really still...staring down this bigger kid...fists clenched...eyes locked on her target....(I think I even saw little steam puffs coming out her nose---but it was cold...so...)
The closer I got, I realized she was REALLY upset---which is unusual.(She usually just gets 'pissed off' when she hurts herself.)
Then I saw her eyes...one little tear coming down her cheek...(uh oh.)
She turned on her heel away from the boy bully...fists still clenched by her side...spine straight as an arrow...head held high...and walked my way. The boy bully fled the scene...
As soon as she saw he was gone, she let me hug her...and she crumbled into my arms and sobbed...
'He pulled my feet when I was up high on the equipment...then he pulled my coat and I fell on the ground...I hurt my leg.' (Obviously nothing was broken/sprained/twisted...but it scared her to death.)
Of course I said all the 'Mommy things' you say to your child when she is hurt...my little brave girl!
She 'got over it' on the ride home...but the 'residue' was still in her thoughts...I could see some 'deep thinking' going on in the back seat...
'Are you my little fighter pilot?' I asked her...
She smiled and said 'YEAH Momma!'
(all I can say 'boy bully'...you bettah watch out! SHE'S BACK!)
hhhahahah!

Careful What You Say...

I was in a store with my Little One the other day.

She decided she wanted to ride in the basket, instead of walking...fine.

Then I turned around and she was standing UP in the cart, holding on to the sides and rocking it!

(*gasp*)
'You better sit down young lady---if that cart tips over you will kill yourself!', I said.

(we were in an aisle with a ton of glass things...all I could imagine was the cart tipping over, her crashing in to a vase, falling to the floor amidst shards of glass...lacerations...blood...oh my GOD!)

She sat down really quickly and had this ashen look on her face...

I told her I was sorry I got upset, but that she had scared me...and I gave her a hug and a kiss.

And she said:

'I'm sorry Momma...I don't want to die before Santa comes!'

(then we both started laughing! hahaha!)

WHEW!

Had to post...Pregnancy Pictures.

What are people thinking? Seriously...especially the nude couple ones---ICK!
(hahaha!)
http://pregnantchicken.squarespace.com/pregnant-chicken-blog/2010/12/10/awkward-pregnancy-photos.html

~Swimming with Fishes~

All things...

once thought

could...

would...

'be'

... done...

and

then...that.

Now

....nothing.

Broken glass scatters

across the floor

... barefoot.

Sacrificing her soles...

to get there.

He...

... turns away.

Crossing the line...

Once...

and again

...to swim

with a fish...

from a past dead sea.

Hooked...

Lied...

Sank her.

Washes up...

but is never clean.

Sun dries

...a heart dies.

Gasping...grasping...

Dead cold eyes.

The gull is picking his soul clean.



'I'm not afraid to die...'Big Betty' will be there.'

Driving around with a kindergartener in the back seat always lends itself to 'interesting' conversations.
Today, out of the blue, Little One asked me 'how did your dad die, momma?'
After taking some deep cleansing breaths....
I told her 'He died in a war...trying to help people be safe...'
'What did he do?' she asked....
Again...deep cleansing breath...

'My dad, your Grandfather, was an officer in the Navy...his job was to protect our country and also to help other people who needed to be saved from the bad guys....'
(Long silence from the back seat....)
'...but how did he die?'....
'He was hurt really badly...he had a BIG 'ow-ie'...' I explained.
'I love my Grandfather...I want to see him.'
I told her 'someday you will...'
'When I go to Heaven, momma?'
'Yes...when you go to Heaven....a LONG time from now.'
(Long silence from the back seat....)
'Momma...are you scared to die?'
'No...',I told her,'...because I hope to see my dad again...and you know who else is in Heaven?'
'Who?' she asked...

'Zeusy Boy...' (our dog)...
'AND!' she chimed in,' BIG BETTY!' ('Big Betty' was our hamster)
(hahahaha---thank God for comic relief!)
'I'm not afraid to die either Momma...cuz, I'll get to see my Grandfather....and BIG BETTY!'

My 'alarm clock' weighs 8 pounds...

My cat, Sylvia, weighs 8 pounds...maybe.
This morning at 3 a.m. she started 'waking' me up...
I heard her jump down from my dresser---(which of course is her new 'favorite' place to sleep)---sounding like a 500 pound gorilla falling out of a tree.
She must have  been wearing her tap shoes because every step she took sounded like 'tip....tap....tip....tap...' on her luxurious stroll to the bathroom.
Next I hear 'CRUNCH...dig,dig...CRUNCH'...(she was having a snack.)
Sylvia must have poor eyesight, because whenever she gets ready to drink her water, she tips the bowl to make the water move so she can see it.
Sounds a bit like a cap gun going off...makes my heart practically jump out of my throat.
I was still in that 'I'm-asleep-don't-ruin-it-for-me-now' haze....(hoping to go back to a really good dream I was having...)
3:45 a.m....she jumps back on my dresser, sliding out in to perfume bottles, the mirror, my change jar....
I opened one eye, waiting to hear glass breaking...nothing. I could see her silhouette in the shadowy darkness, standing there like a puma on the hunt...and she was looking at me like, 'What...?'
She waited until I was just about back to sleep, and started the 'morning grooming' session.
Lick, nibble, slurp....chew, chew...lick...lick...all the while bumping in to my Grandmother's marble based,  red glass, lamp (my favorite since I was a kid).
I could hear my beloved lamp scooching closer and closer to the edge of the dresser...the thumping of the shade against Sylvia's head as she washed her foot.
I got up and moved the lamp. (she, of course swatted me as I did so...)
Back to bed...again...I am thinking I have 2 hours before I have to really be awake...and now I can't go back to sleep.
Sylvia must have sensed this as she leaped across the room from the dresser, and landed on my bed like a trapeze artist landing on the net below.
I have a big bed.
There is plenty of room for me and an 8 pound cat.
Sylvia, with great fanfare, curls up on my PILLOW with her face right next to mine...breathing little cat breaths on me...(lovely.)
I scooted her off my pillow...which apparently did not suit her.
She came back with a vengeance...purring like a lawn mower...this time walking on my side as though she is practicing her tightrope act...her claws ever so slightly digging in to my skin.
I gingerly picked her up and put her on the other side of the bed....
....and again, the purring lawnmower started advancing across the  'battlefield'.
Changing her tactics, she headed for my feet...(I knew where this was going.)
She must have thought my feet were cold as she spread her warm furry little body across them...still purring...but now digging her claws in to my ankles.
She felt like a hot water bottle with thorns.
I was awake...and NOT happy. It was 4:25...a.m.
I picked her up off my feet, and put her on the floor...she 'huffed' at me...ears back, tail swishing around furiously.
She gave me about 20 minutes...and then Sylvia started scratching the door with her nails, and 'mewing' in her baby cat voice. I knew my dog Roxy would hear her, and soon be waiting on the other side of the door...'puff barking' and wanting to get to that 'squirrel' I keep in my room.
I let her out and she did her commando run---low to the ground, stealthy---down the stairs to the front door....
I got the locks undone and got her outside just as Roxy rounded the corner...
Sylvia, once again, cheating 'death' to escape in to the night.
(It is now 6 a.m....and I am on my 3rd cup of coffee...)