The boys and their grandparents: a photoshoot

Have you ever wondered how many of your childhood memories are actually the manifestation of the telling and retelling of the stories and back stories of old photos? I love looking at pictures of myself as a little girl. I swear those captured moments have become the backbone of all my early memories.  

My parents were twenty-three and twenty-four when I was born. I really admire the work of parenting, and it is surreal to look at photos of my own mom and dad just starting out and finding their way, like we all do. The insights into our life together in those moments—how we lived, how we dressed, and how we spent our time—they are all so meaningful now. 

When I was growing up we took one family vacation each year: a long drive from Oregon, Arizona, or Northern California (depending on where we were living at the time) all the way to Los Angeles to where my grandparents lived with the palm trees, concrete poolyards, and mickey mouse. In later childhood, my mom's dad lived a few hours away from us in Nevada, and either way we didn't get to see our grandparents enough. I do wish there were more photos of us when we were together.

Like many children of this technical generation, practically every day of the boys' lives has been documented in some way since birth. We are also fortunate that their grandparents live only an hour away. So far, Roscoe and Merritt have the advantage of knowing and visiting with them at least once a month. I hope that they will continue to have opportunities to build authentic relationships with each other in their time together. 

This year we gifted our parents with a photoshoot from the awesome Courage and Co. Photography here in Richmond. Jake was patient with the kids—who were in high-gear zany mode for the duration—and generous with his time. We chose a great big outdoor space for the shoot, and in between snow days we found sunshine and a little taste of Spring.

Everyone dressed comfortably, and while I did brush the kids' hair (If you can even tell. Probably not.) they came as themselves and Jake captured everyone as they are. Which is the best way.

I wish I had professional photos of 3 year old me playing and hanging out with my grandmas and grandpas—for the boys this meant eating suckers, digging in the dirt, finding gook in a stream, and otherwise acting like wild animals.

And yes, my dad travels with his ukulele! It's a trademark.

How do you create and preserve memories of your parents for yourself and for your kids? 

The knowing begins now

**I wrote this post last month but couldn't publish it until today. There will be more to come in future posts on this topic. 

The last few days have been exhausting. A long-held family secret spanning decades was largely unraveled between Saturday night and this evening [Wednesday]. A genealogical mystery has been unlocked and we are free! As the information continues to trickle in I feel peace inside and look forward to sharing it all as soon as it makes sense to do that here.

The boys and I had an uneventful day at home today. The weather was unusual for January, warm and breezy. We lazed around the house in the morning before nap and then set off for a doughnut run when they woke up in the afternoon. I like to drive to a little place about 30 minutes away because they have the best doughnuts and also because it offers a road trip just long enough to hit pause; an opportunity for everyone to rest and read en route, and space for me to think. The drive home is predictably quiet save the sounds of delight and sugary lip smacking. Sometimes the trip makes a long afternoon go by a little faster. From there we drove to a park by the farmer's market where we waited to pick up our meat and eggs for the month.

My mind has been occupied rather fully by the latest developments in my family's history. In context, I can't help but look at these beautiful babies of mine, awestruck with a sense of pain and love. Pain not for them but for children who suffer. Don't we all start out this perfect and worthy? These little boys deserve everything the world has to offer to them. Every child does. As parents we have power to create reality for our children, a consciousness that can be as frightening as it is empowering.

Rain drizzled steadily as we played. The wind kicked up carrying their pitched voices through the park, away from my ears. I followed their movements up the ladder and over the other side, then gazed higher still until the overexposed glare of white sun diffused through hazy cloud cover and pulsed into the back of my eyes, forcing me to blink. Being fully present in a moment like that can be calming and marvelous. Other times feeling so deeply only magnifies my vulnerability, underscoring how insignificant I am in this big infinite world. I like to be so inspired and humbled. 

While I cannot control the ways in which the personal decisions of others have impacted my family's collective understanding of who we are and where we come from, I can take comfort knowing that I create and hold a safe and nurturing space for my own kids from which they will venture and eventually jump off into wild and limitless futures.