Me, according to Wyatt.

Idea from Sometimes Sweet
1. What is something Mommy always says to you?
“Don’t panic, just breath and ask your brain whose in control?” then I say “I am.”
2. What makes Mommy happy?
”Kisses, big wet ones.”
3. What makes her sad?
”When somebody who dies.”
4. How does Mommy make you laugh?
”I laugh when she tickles me”
5. What was your Mom like as a child?
”She must be a rule follower cause she makes a lot of rules up.”
6. How old is your Mommy?
”29”
7. How tall is your Mom?
starts to count me from my head to my toes… “30 inches.”
8. What is her favorite thing to do?
”Take pictures”
9. What does your Mommy do when you're not around?
”Goes to work”
10. If your Mom becomes famous, what will it be for?
”Running”
11. What is your Mom really good at?
”Taking pictures”
12. What is she not very good at?
”Running”
13. What does your Mom do for her job?
”Teach computers”
14. What is Mommy's favorite food?
”Tacos”
15. What makes you proud of your Mom?
”Running”
16. What is Mommy's favorite thing about Daddy?
”That he’s funny”
17. What do you and your Mom do together?
”Ride bikes”
18. How are you and your Mom the same?
”I don’t think we are the same AT all”
19. How are you different?
”She’s a girl and I am a boy.”
20. How do you know that Mommy loves you?
”Cause she says that I am smart and gives me hugs and kisses.”

A night in the city

A night out with your momma and sisters participating in a scavenger hunt across the city equals a billion opinions. Who all can’t be right  but it also equals  a night full of fun and good Mexican food.

It was 8th grade and I was the girl that no one wanted to sit by at lunch anymore.

I am the girl in the red and I stole this picture from my friend Kat Blue on Facebook ;)

It was a moment that I remember clearly. A total mean girl moment. I sat my tray down on the table to only watch my girlfriends pick theirs up and move the table on the other side.  I remember thinking about what I did to make them so mad at me. I mean just over the weekend we were friends. I even went to my best friends birthday party.

And then it hit me. I talked to the blonde hair blue eyed boy that she like. Maybe a little to long for her liking. So over the weekend she apparently got all the rest of the girls to hate me for that.

The next few months I learned what it was like to not have any friends. It was awful. The snickering in the halls, the secret bashing notes they passed to the other kids, and the lonely lunches were just the start of it.

I somehow became the girl who stole boys and that made all the other girls hate me. They hated me so bad that one day as I was heading to band class a girl that I didn’t know came up to me and told me that I better watch out because Big Crystal was going to beat me up after school.

I didn’t even know who Crystal was. Terrified, I decided that day that I would actually take home my saxophone that day. Not to practice with but as a way to protect myself from Big Crystal.

The word got out that day that there was going to be a girl fight after school so by the time the bell rang a crowd started to form in front of the bus line.

I don’t remember a lot from that moment all I do remember is slowly making my way through the crowd onto the bus. I remember the kids were pointing at me and telling Big Crystal (who was a least seven feet tall and the most gnarly looking girl you could imagine) where I was.

She came onto the bus and pulled me off of it.I squirmed to grab my saxophone case which amazing got off the bus with me. I landed hard to the ground as she flung me off the bus to the kids cheering. I remembered standing up watching in slow motion as I swung that heavy case containing my saxophone towards her head.

It hit her hard in the side of the face.

Knocked her down enough for me to scramble onto the bus again.

She of course was full of fury and hulked out as she ran towards me.

I made it on the bus and the bus driver thankfully closed the doors just in time.

I was safe.

For that day anyway.

I remember shaking on the bus, thinking if I would tell my parents about the incident or not. It took all weekend but by Sunday night I was so full of anxiety that I finally broke down and told them.

When Monday arrive a crowd already formed in the common area inside the school. Kids ran inside as they saw me, I assume to tell Big Crystal that I was here.

I walked inside to a crowd like the last time but instead of being alone that day my parents walked in behind me.

The crowd immediately disburse when they saw them.

That day at lunch, my old friends sat with me again and we laughed about how I gave Big Crystal a black eye with my saxophone.

Middle school is funny. Girls can be stupid and mean but a saxophone will always be my go to weapon of choice. Especially against girls named Big Crystal.

Story prompt by Mama Kat’s Link up:

Cousins and Grandma’s driveway

Houseful of kids, hours spent outside, first bike falls, skinned knees, a ton of giggles, screams, sharing, not sharing, deep conversations and dinner at my mom’s house. Now that’s my type of day.

Nothing sweeter then a watermelon treat.

18/52

“A portrait of my kids, once a week, every week in 2015”

Always riding their bikes.

Now & Then

The thing about having another little boy after you already had ones is the hand me downs. Not only is it convenient and a money saver but it takes you instantly back down memory lane.

We pulled out Wyatt’s old tricycle the other day and Gunner was ecstatic. He barely touches the peddles but that doesn’t stop him from riding that thing like a mad man. He’d ride it every day, all day if I’d let him.

The other day as they we’re riding their bikes at grandmas I snapped that picture of Gunner and when I looked at it I was instantly taken back to this moment of Wyatt riding his tricycle.

There is nothing like the freedom you get when riding a bike and to see the reaction on both of my boys faces for the first time is in its self a magical. But to see the pure joy they both have on their faces, on the same bike at the same age is just a miracle. That is why I love photography because I get to relive these moments again and again.