We still have clients who talk about “the surprise wedding” that we shot so many moons ago… And I am in agreement…Best. Idea. Ever.

Not the best day though, believe it or not.  While many people like to talk about weddings as “the best day of your life”, parents know the score.  Wedding days are fun and fantastic and romantic but they pale next to the real best day.  Or best days.  The best day is coming soon, any day now really.  And I’m so happy I got to take photos of Ali and Michael on one of the days leading up.

For anyone who owns a cat, or heck, even knows a cat, you have to appreciate the serendipity in this shoot.   There’s no making a cat do anything you want them to do.  Toddlers are tough but they can be fooled: not cats.  Which is what makes Gibson’s attitude towards out shoot pretty unique, I’m not sure I could ever make photos like these happen again:

I am in love with these photos.  Michael had an idea…. “Remember how we were hanging out on the bed daydreaming about her the other day?”, he asked Ali.  And so they did and the photos that resulted, especially with Gibson’s compliance, are both intimate and relaxed, reminiscent of their wedding photos.   Ali called these photos, “the calm before the storm”.

While the nursery isn’t complete, I love how there’s already the promise of a getaway in baby girl’s room.  A bird mobile that Ali lovingly made sits in front of floppy sun hats hanging on a wall the color of the Caribbean sea.  Her closet door is decorated with bathing suits and other fun clothing, ready to be thrown in a bag for an adventure.  I adore this outlook on parenthood: “Away we go!”

I had an incredible time shooting for this couple and can’t wait to meet their little one when she arrives and we have returned from a vacation of our own.  Just a few more snippets until then…

Posted by Mel @ 6:17 pm, in Bellies, Portraits, Wee Ones | 1 comment | Permalink

Hard to believe this wee little guy…

… is already two years old!

Cannon had so many fun new things to show me when I arrived, between Christmas and his birthday he made out like a bandit and its clear what his favorite time of year will be.  It was a celebration of boy-wonder between fire trucks, tool tables, race cars and even a motorized car!

But there’s no replacement for the thrill of the real thing, we took some pictures of Cannon “driving” daddy’s truck:

I love that the baby who grew up with a cowboy theme got a teepee for his birthday.  It makes a great hiding place but there’s no escaping Louis licks…

There’s something about this picture that really got me, something that felt so familiar and yet it took me some time to figure out just what it was.  Its the way Jill is positioned behind Cannon, ready to direct his hands with her own.  Any parent of a two-year-old spends a lot of time in this position, crouched behind their child and directing small hands like a puppeteer.  Two year olds want so much to do the things big people do, which gets big people like me into trouble when they say things they shouldn’t only to hear inappropriate commentary parroted verbatum through a tiny voice at about knee level.  Its both a fascinating and daunting responsibility, parenthood at two.  For the first year or so, babies are learning how to become part of the human species: how to smile, walk, grasp a cheerio between an index finger and a thumb, or eat a slice of watermelon without choking.  Its subtle, the transition, but at some point they become more interested in learning how to be part of the human race.  Now they want to brush teeth and spread the peanut butter on their sandwich.  One of my favorite Fiverisms has been, “no, MY do it!”.  Its neat to see that play out visually, even if it took me a moment to recognize.

It was so mild outside that we decided to hit a local park and spend some time outside.  And here’s one more example of how art school has ruined me forever.   I see a big world and a tiny little boy running forth into it, his shadow literally foreshadowing how big he will be in the years to come but his dad is right behind him, slightly out of view.  And I think well of course, that’s what parenthood is, you let them run into the wild blue yonder under a watchful eye.  That’s what’s scary and wonderful about toddlers: how quickly they are letting go of your hand to run towards everything.  Not to mention how fast they can actually run.

Here’s a slideshow of the day or you can check out the gallery here.  Congratulations, Jill and Todd, on all that has led to two successful years with one adorable little boy.  And there’s more congratulations in order: Cannon’s family will be expecting an addition this summer!  Can’t hardly wait to see what the stork brings…

Posted by Mel @ 3:26 pm, in Portraits, Wee Ones | No comments | Permalink

I know, you are so over it.  Its all been boxed up and shoved back into the attic, basement, or wherever it all lives most of the year.  Songs that were charmingly seasonal a mere month ago are now inappropriately annoying and you dare not wear a red sweater lest someone give you the stink eye.   Its done until next year.

Indeed, this blog post is most ill timed.

So, in fairness to the awesomeness of this family, try and imagine that you aren’t in front of an electronic devise reading a blog.  Instead, imagine yourself curled up on the couch of a living room, flipping through a photo album.  Embrace the time warp.

I’ve been photographing Maddie since she was 3 months old and she remains one of my favorite muses, mostly because she is such a willing participant in all things camera ham-ish.  She especially likes it when I sing the “Hold Still” song from Yo Gabba Gabba and she cracks up every time I tell her, “whatever you do… DON’T smile!” in the same tone as “whatever you do… DON’T push the red button!”.  Maddie likes the camera and the camera likes her right back.

My favorite was when I found her Christmas list taped up to the glass panel door.  In case Santa got too fat for the chimney and had to enter through more conventional means?

Jackson, now six months old, isn’t as sure about the camera yet.  Or maybe he just takes it more seriously…

Unless, of course, he is busy nibbling on a bow…

These photos in front of the tree were my personal favorite since they get straight to the heart of the holiday.  The part of it that stays with us after the tree comes down, the part that might still manage to warm your heart well into January and beyond as greetings of “Happy New Year!” wane and new toys lose their shine.

To quote the Llama Llama series that is among my own son’s favorites:

“Sometimes we should take a rest and hold the ones we love the best.  Wishing, waiting, wanting things… we forget what this time brings.  Gifts are nice, but there’s another – the true gift is we have each other.”

So hang onto that thought as you watch this slideshow and view this gallery.  You have room in your heart for one more Christmas carol, I know it.  Mostly because its John Denver and the Muppets (best Christmas album EVER).  But also because you are awesome.

Posted by Mel @ 7:40 pm, in Portraits, Wee Ones | No comments | Permalink

The sun is setting on Christmas Eve as we sit on our front porch swing while Fiver naps.  Sam hands me a glass of eggnog and I will myself to talk about anything…anything at all besides diabetes.  But before I am able he blurts out, “I think we need another Humalog pen.  What if something happens to the pen and we can’t give him insulin?”  He’s right, of course.  But I’m exhausted and all I can think to say is, “Can you believe that at this time last week we didn’t know what a Humalog pen was?”

I can’t believe how long it is taking for the dust to settle and for our new normal, the one I call Normal 2.0, to commence.  Parents of children with diabetes assure me that this is as hard as it will ever be, not only because its so new but because of his age. He will get older and learn to recognize and articulate his symptoms.  He will become more active in his own care.  I see it coming, already he likes to press the button to prick his finger and he chooses his injection site at each meal.  His favorites sites are always where he can get the best view of the needle going in as we count to ten.

But with every small success comes a new hurdle.  Every near perfect blood glucose reading has a high or low reading riding right on its tail.  Its only when I have the carbs of his meal counted perfectly that he decides he no longer likes the “favorite” food items I have so painstakingly measured onto his plate.  With every prescription we are able to fill comes another we can’t and more time on hold as we place yet another phone call to the insurance company, doctor or medical supplier while chewing our fingernails and hoping we don’t run out of something we need.  With each reportage of our numbers comes a new dosage and with more carb to insulin to activity ratios to try and wrap our tired heads around.  And always, as the sun sets with the promise of rejuvenation that only a little person’s bedtime can bring a weary couple desperate to hold a conversation or silently watch TV, comes the requisite snack before bed and then BAM, he’s reanimated and running around for yet another hour as we try and wind him down all over again.

But if there’s something we can be very grateful for, its how little of an impact the diagnosis has had on the patient himself.  Fiver remains a happy, active, funny, and outgoing two year old.  He still loves trucks and all things lego and he still runs amuck at the park every day, unlike kids who have to live with more devastating chronic illnesses.  And hypoglycemia, through his eyes, is the coolest thing because he can drink boxed juice and have more sugar snacks.  Its really just his frazzled parents who are suffering from high blood pressure and lack of sleep.  And his parents’ valued clients who aren’t getting enough of their time right now.

Which leads me to the next thing we are amazed and grateful for: the friends, family and clients who have given us the love, support, space and understanding we have needed to get closer to Normal 2.0.  Thank you for the gift of your understanding.  There have been so many great things to share and blog with you on the business end of our lives and I will return to the task of sharing them with you just as soon as I can.

Today Fiver told me that Rufus (the Bear with Diabetes, thank you JDRF for gifting him to us) was feeling sad.  I asked Fiver if he felt sad too and he said no, just Rufus, he’s making Rufus feel better.  Its really nice to see that my boy has learned the transformative power of a hug from all the hugs, literal and virtual, that he has received from all of you.  We wish you peace and love in the New Year and look forward to documenting all the joy its bound to bring each of us in our own unique way.  We each have a story of our own to tell.

Posted by Mel @ 8:42 pm, in Personal, Wee Ones | 3 Comments | Permalink