Life Captured

A while ago, that only seems like yesterday, I attended the Life Captured workshop hosted by Trish and Ronnie – two creatives who I admire.

As I was cleaning and sorting today, I can across my notebook from the day and thought I would share the words from the first page. These words were written within the first hour.

‘I chose my life! I want to remember it all. I want my babes to see my images and ignite memories. If they don’t remember they will make up a story to coincide with the image that created an emotional response. I want them to read my handwritten words and fall in love with my writing – words written for them, raw,organic and very real.

My wish is they will feel the indescribable love I have for them and the way I view them and the world we live in. The details and connections and the beauty. Their beauty.

Life captured. Their life capture. My life captured.’

That is why I write my blog, journal my thoughts and capture all the beauty I do behind the lens. Memory keeping is treasure. Our treasure.

Excerpts from my journal: Actions

photo-copy-31-464x600

Photo prints to add to my journal

I have all the words. They swirl. They dart this way and they dart that.

They want to be written. They want to be read. I stare at the lined page but I cannot bring them to life.

***

Slept in. Headache. Parker slept with us and I am left with his sweet scent on my pillow when Mr.Kypo takes him downstairs, allowing me to sleep. Mr.Kypo needs sleep too. He selflessly gets up. He creeps down the stairs. Not long later, Lotus comes in and kisses me, turns and creeps down following them.

***

I have longed for Parker to sleep through the night. My body aches and craves for rest. How ironic, this week he has started sleeping through and I am missing our time in the hours of the morning feeding him in his rocking chair, our warm bodies close. I miss when Mr.Kypo would feed him during the night and I lay in our bed on his pillow with inhaling his smell speaking gratitude that I picked him to be the Dada of our babes.

***

I exploded with pure frustration. I yelled, I was mean, I felt remorse, I felt guilt, I felt shame. Deep shame. It was heavy. Viscous words spoken that could not be erased. I apologised. I reasoned with him why I was so frustrated and how I need him to listen to me. He accepted my apology. Did he accept it because he knew I really meant it or did he accept it because I am his Mama and the unconditional love he has for me?

It is days later and I am still thinking about it. I can see his face when I yelled at him. He is not thinking about it at all. He sees me with the same loving eyes. The first woman he fell in love with and speaks such sweet words. I make another promise with myself that when that fury is in the pit of my stomach, I won’t lash out. I won’t snap at anyone. This time I will recognise and keep.

***

“Mama, they don’t have the size you are after in that style’, she said to me in front of the change-room door with all her innocence. It is just a number to her with no meaning.

Suddenly, my stomach felt ill. Self-love dissolved and self-hate made a strong appearance. I feel confused. My eyes filled with tears as I saw my reflection in the mirror. I start to loathe my appearance. I wipe the tears, compose myself knowing my daughter is on the other side of the door and I don’t want her to ever have the same relationship with her body as I have with mine.

29/52

29-52-478x318

29-52-x-478x332

“A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013.”

Lotus & Parker: Always close and always near. I love watching him watch her.
Noah & Parker: Always with each other. I love that Parker is completely disarmed with Noah’s touch.

52-170px

{Tea with me} A loss of rhythm

The kettle has boiled and I am sipping on chamomile tea as I type. Chamomile tea is known for it’s calming effect. I need a need a big pot because; calm is something I have not been. I feel as though I have lost my rhythm.

It doesn’t seem that long ago that my days had a different beat. Days were filled with nursing our baby in our open light-filled lounge-room, where the corner of our large lounge would invite me in and I would close my eyes as the sun hit my face every morning. I had our baby in my arms and I would cuddle him, nurse him, smile at him and swoon as the minutes ticked and the hours past. The only need for us to leave the lounge was for tea and food. Mr.Kypo took care of the rest.

My days now are a fast rhythm and I can’t seem to keep up with the beat. There are some nights I rest my head on my pillow and my body seeks comfort in our bed and I dream of those slow days.

I have returned to work much earlier than I wanted. Rather than fighting the resistance I felt about this, I laid down the armour and surrendered the fight.

Before the surrender there were tears, gulping tears, screams and an outrage of anger and resentment. I didn’t want to leave our baby with Mr.Kypo. I wanted him all to myself. When the resistance past I could see clearly. I could hear reason.

We own our businesses that I run and financially we could not afford to have both Mr.Kypo and I at home.

Since returning to work a few months ago I enjoy them. I am inspired and enthused to be the best Educator I can be, however,  I feel as though I have let my family down.

There are days, I walk through the door without patience and I am exhausted. I wander our home and see mess and unfinished tasks and it consumes me that I cannot manage it all.

I snap at Mr.Kypo and the kidlets when they cannot read my mind and fear is running through my body. When I manage to breathe, I vow I won’t take it out on them again.

Some nights when I cuddle our baby before he drifts off to slumber, I look into his eyes with question and wonder. Does he know think I have left him when I leave and wait for my return? Does he miss me? I know he misses me. They all do. Their faces say all the words when I walk through the door. Their touch. The arms that wrap around my neck, the smothering of kisses and none of us want to let go first.

I am reassured that these thoughts of loss, guilt and lack of rhythm pass. They did with the other kidlets. But, for now I tell myself to continue to push down these feelings and replace them with immense gratitude. Gratitude for the businesses that allows me flexibility and for a rocking husband who is a present devoted husband and dada.

{ tea with me} memories from a cup

The kettle has whistled. Oh, I love our whistling kettle. I listen attentively as the boil gets louder and louder and when it whistles, I am overjoyed thinking about sipping the warm cup of tea.

Today I have peppermint tea in my teapot. The teapot wears a colorful cosy to keep my tea warm incase I get distracted, and this allows me to always have warm tea close by.

I pour my tea into a Peter Rabbit mug. It was purchased for Lotus when she was born. I had the same one growing up. Peter Rabbit was one of my favourite stories from my childhood that my mum read to me.

I regret leaving that mug when I left home. Whenever I drink my tea from Lotus’ mug, parts of my childhood are ignited and the memories are clear.

For today, I am remembering my Peter Rabbit mug belonged to a set and it all lived high up in the pantry, to avoid it being broken. I recall the day I was able to drink from it. To me it affirmed, I was grown up. I graduated from plastic-ware to ceramic-ware. My mum made Vegemite toast and placed in front of me on the table where we ate breakfast, along with the Peter Rabbit mug filled with orange juice. To my surprise as I drank the juice and the mug became empty, there was a little Peter Rabbit on the inside of the mug. What a delight it was for me.

So, here I am sipping my tea with memories of my mum swirling around my head, and I recall her in the kitchen filled with light and the sun against her face, looking out the window to our backyard with the swing set in the far corner, surrounded by the garden that she planted, nurtured and spent a lot of her spare time in sipping her cup of coffee.  All these memories sparked by one little cup and a pot of tea.

What are you thinking about today when you sip your tea?

3/52

“A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013.”

45 degrees here this week which meant only one thing…swim.

Lotus & Noah – Jumping off the jetty.
Parker: Sitting with Mama & Dada watching them in the shade.

To join in, please click below.

52-170px-1

Hauntingly beautiful

I used to associate cemeteries as being a place of mourning where you felt a deep sadness and a grief that never goes away.  A lot of broken hearts rest there and hearts get reunited there.

 When I was a child my association to cemeteries was completely different. If you drove past one in the car you put your feet up. That way the ghost couldn’t get you.  Absolutely ridiculous, I know but, as a child I was completely freaked out.

 I recall being a teenager and a group of us went to a cemetery at night. It was the boy’s idea, probably to scare us and we would end up in their arms. It was dark and foggy like the scenes in a movie. The feeling of being frightened took over your body. I remember there were screams, running and when we caught our breaths once back in the car with the doors locked, the laughter could be heard.

 As an adult I have mourned in cemeteries, and even in the deep sorrow there has been an undeniable beauty.

 When Parker was only a few months old I did a photo shoot in a house near a cemetery. Mr. Kypo and Noah wandered around the local streets walking Parker, staying close in case I needed to feed him. When I finished I walked to meet them and they were at a cemetery.

 As I approached my eyes scanned abandoned plots, ruined headstones that were falling apart and amongst it all there was a charm about this particular cemetery.

 I fed Parker on the seat and in that moment I thought about coming here and taking photos.

 Months rolled over. Many car trips past it and then the prompt given for our daily photo challenge was ‘forgotten’. Immediately I thought of the cemetery.

 Mr. Kypo drove us there. It started to rain. Lotus and I ran through the cemetery to quickly take our photo. As I navigated my way around where people rested I wondered why people stop visiting and caring for where loved ones rest? And as I clicked my shutter I thought of my loved ones I rarely visit and I felt comfort. The answer I came up with was that just maybe they feel what I feel? My Grandparents bodies are rested in a cemetery, however, their soul is with me and there is no need for me to visit them.

 Lotus and I had five minutes to point and shoot due to the rain. We had a quick sip of the beauty there and agreed we needed a bigger drink and will go back again, take our time, read headstones and send love to them all.

2/52

“A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013.”

Lotus: Beauty. I can see her teenage self appearing.

Noah: Innocence. I creep into his room in the mornings to capture the little still in him while he sleeps.

Parker: Discovery. Just finished his lunch. He is loving solids and I am loving the carrot on his delicious face.

52-170px-1