It’s that time of year again. School starts next week. The pool is closing. CVS and Michaels are pushing Halloween decorations and candy. Already. Annabelle told me, “Mom, we don’t have any Halloween stuff! We need to buy some now!” Which makes me wonder, do the stores have really effective marketing or is my little girl picking up on her mother’s shopping habits? I really hope it isn’t the latter.

Meanwhile, I’m turning into one of those annoying ballet moms. Annabelle has been taking ballet since she was 18 months old; we started with a mommy and me class and she’s just kept going (on an off) ever since. Since this November/December marks 2 years of ballet, and because Annabelle is psyched to go to ballet every week, following her teacher’s every move (she’s a little bit of the teacher’s pet), I decided to enroll her in a ballet curriculum program. The thing is, and this is why I call myself “annoying”, I made sure I knew who the teacher was (I know almost all of them) and I talked to just about every other parent who sends their kid to the school about which teachers they liked. My reasoning? Curriculum ballet is expensive. So expensive, in fact, that I know that it is going to hurt, should my little ballerina decide that dance just isn’t her thing. And as much as I tell myself and my girlfriends that if/when Annabelle decides she doesn’t like her dance class that I’ll be okay with it, I know I will feel some sadness: I love the expression on her face as she carefully demi-plies or runs across the room to grand jete. I love watching her twirl around in her leotard or when the teacher dresses her up in a tutu or little bo peep costume. It will be a sad day, for me, when this chapter of my daughter’s life ends. The thing is, I don’t want to be one of those annoying ballet moms. I don’t want to live vicariously through my daughter. I want my daughter to decide what makes her happy and go for it.

As for Levi, he is still happy enough to accompany Annabelle and me to whatever her schedule calls for. I did attempt swim lessons for him, and discovered within five minutes that Annabelle isn’t accustomed to being a sitting duck. She stood next to the pool clapping for her brother and singing with the swim instructor, which was all very sweet, but then she wanted to jump in the pool and join the class (which makes sense; it was a fun class), and when she couldn’t do that, she tried to engage the teacher in conversation. Even though I did bring toys and activities for her, I decided it made more sense for Annabelle to go on playdates for the remaining lessons. In fact, for the fall, I am debating whether or not to sign my little guy up for a mommy and me activity while Annabelle is at her 2 day preschool program. On the one hand, he’d have a chance to meet other babies (he mostly plays with older kids in our neighborhood, including my daughters’ friends who dote on him), but on the other hand, he’s a pretty social kid as it is. He has no problem crawling over to other kids, flashing a smile and playing. He’s such an easy going kid . . . my husband and I have no idea who he gets this from.

It also happens to be that time of year (or life) when everyone seems to be getting married. Last week, we traveled up to New York to attend a wedding for my husband’s best friend (photos can be viewed here). Meanwhile, my soon to be step-sister got married in New Hampshire to her long time college beau. Then, it two weeks, we’re traveling north, again, to attend the wedding of my husband’s other best friend. I can’t wait. It seems that weddings are a chance for my husband and me to be just that: husband and wife. We get to go out . . . just us. We drink. We dance. We laugh. We talk. It’s great. Oh, and I get to rock and roll in a formal dress and heals. For some reason, I don’t know what I’m going through, I can’t get enough of animal prints. For the last wedding, I wore leopard print heals. For the next wedding, I’m wearing zebra print. This must be some sort of, “Oh my goodness, I’m a mom who wears jeans and tee shirts everyday. I must make the most of every opportunity to look sexy.” And as much as I say that it feels good to dress up for my husband, I have to admit, it feels great to dress up for myself. It’s like, okay, I wear spit-up and poop on my wardrobe Monday through Friday, but on this rare occasion, I’m poop free and I’m wearing Calvin Klein.

Last, as much as “it is that time of year” for my kids and everyone else’s, I feel like it is that time of my life when I want to throw my passion and lust for life towards something that is mine, all mine, and that can be a marketable skill when the day comes that my children are grown and don’t need their stay-at-home mom, as much. And that something is photography. Admittedly, I do have 2 degrees in English and I did enjoy teaching community college. The thing is, lately, all I want to do is take photos. I want to pour over Vogue magazine and search for posing ideas and lighting effects; I read book after book about portraiture and working with children. I spend hours processing my photos and working through my portfolio. I want this, so badly. I want this for me. I want this for my daughter and my son and my husband too. I want for my family and for me too, to see me as something more than just the crazy lady who makes meals, fixes boo boos, and cleans the toilet. Not that I don’t think that the mom work I do is valuable. It is. And it’s the reason I wanted to be a stay at home mom. But, and this is a big one, I want to fulfill this other ache to be Jessica, to be the smart, creative, professional person that I once was and wanted to be. And I think that that is okay.

What I don’t know and am trying to work out is how to build this other passion into a business. I am trying to figure out how to reach people who need photos. Everywhere I turn, there are beautiful children, families, couples . . . wherever there are people, there are portraits just waiting to happen.

In the meantime, I will do what the great Annie Liebovitz says to do. In her biography, she says something along the lines of, when you are starting out as a photographer to photograph your family, the people who are close to you. And since this is where I am, that is what I’ll do.

Levi, crawling up the steps through our front garden.

My girlfriend’s beautiful daughter, who is just one month younger than Levi.

And Levi, giving his friend a ride, on his scooter.

Happy Birthday to my baby boy!  I have loved being your mom, Levi, and I feel so lucky to have spent this past year with you.  You amaze me everyday with all that you do and say.  You smile at everything (well, almost everything) and you bring so much happiness to everyone you meet.  Thank you for coming into this world to be my son.  Cheers to you and your first year.  We made it!

I’m not sure whether or not I’ve shared this here before (yes, yet another confession), but I have struggled with my weight my entire life. This past weekend my husband went on a cleaning frenzy and pulled out a box full of my old pictures. Going through my childhood and teen photographs, I felt a little bit of nostalgia, happiness, embarrassment, and compassion too. Between the ages of seven and fourteen, I grew from being a “pudgy” kid to what my relatives and friends referred to as “a big girl.” And not “big” as in “mature.”

I remember visiting my pediatrician when I was 13. I did not want to step on the scale. I knew I wouldn’t like the number. But, I wanted to play softball and needed a physical. After the nurse weighed me and checked my blood pressure, the doctor, an old Czech man, told me, “Jessica, you need to lose weight. If you do not lose weight, you will not be healthy.” And then, and I’ve always wondered at the following comment, as honest as it was, how serious too; he said, “If you keep gaining weight you could get heart disease.” I was shocked. I knew that I felt heavy and I felt uncomfortable but I didn’t think about my weight as a factor affecting my physical health. From that moment forward, I started exercising, mostly walking and running, and I read as much as I could about nutrition and eating right.

It took me 4 years. When I entered my senior year, I weighed 40 lbs. less than I had in the seventh grade. I joined my cross country team, learned to love running, and I became friends with other runners. For the most part, I felt both happy and healthy.

Then I entered college. I started my first serious relationship; I fell in love; I coped with the pressures and changes that one does when they transition from high school to college; I fell out of love and experienced heart ache; I struggled to stay in the top of my class to keep my scholarship. Meanwhile, I developed an anxiety disorder. My weight dropped another twenty five pounds. I was too thin. It was, perhaps, a more unhealthy time in my life than when I was sixty five pounds heavier.

Around the time I entered my senior year of college, I started to relax a little bit. I’d started practicing yoga, which helped me feel more at ease. I also knew that graduation was right around the corner, my thesis project was almost complete, and I had started dating a great guy (yeah, the one I’m married too). Slowly I started to gain weight; I felt happier. I still loved to run and I still ate healthfully, but I had a fuller life.

Over the last eight years, I’ve managed to maintain a healthy weight. Aside from my two pregnancies, I am still about 45 lbs lighter than I was 16 years ago, and I focus now more on being healthy for myself and my family. I have to admit that I usually hate discussing weight, body issues, or weight loss with other women . . . mostly it is because I feel so angry that so many women beat themselves up (the way I once did and still do now and again) over their weight. These days, I stay away from the scale but I do check in now and again at my yearly physicals and I do notice when my clothes are feeling tight or loose.

I’m not sure I will ever feel comfortable with my weight but I certainly am starting to appreciate what my body does for me and how being healthy helps me to help others.

Has your weight ever bothered you or been an issue? If so, how did you manage your weight or your feelings about your weight?

By the way, a friend of mine from high school, Sarah, is now blogging on this very subject at Determined to Be Healthy. Sarah is challenging herself to lose 52 pounds in one year. To learn more about Sarah and her weight loss journey and to share your story too, stop on over. I know Sarah would love to hear from you.

Last, if you have a helpful experience or healthy body image story to share, I’d love to hear it. I’d especially love tips on how to accept my big thighs, large butt and flat chest. For now, I’m just trying to “work it” like J Lo.

Photo of me taken this past weekend. Looking at it, I think I like how I look these days. If only I could always feel that way.

The more I learn about on location photography, the more I love it.  Over the weekend I photographed the E family who lives just a short walk from a large country park; we’d arranged to do photos at 10 o’clock in the morning, which is usually a time of day that offers good light.  That said, I’d decided to use a combination of flash for the shoot because the sun was bright and the light was hard.   Anyway, we got to run along the trails of the park, lay in the grass, climb up muddy banks, and walk across fallen trees that hung over one of the park’s streams.  Not only was it fun for me to get to explore with the E family but the photos seemed to flow because the family was in their element: their three kids included one camera shy dude and two camera flirts . . . once everyone gathered in the woods though, it seemed that everyone wanted their photo taken, including Mr. Shy Guy.

The adventure begins:

Can you tell who loves the camera?  I had so much fun with this guy.

Little ‘sis didn’t seem to mind my snapping away either.

Even though every now and again she’d pause and reflect . . . what’s next?

More fun!

Eventually we all gathered for a few family portraits.

I loved photographing these siblings together.  You could see how much they loved each other.  This big brother was particularly loving and protective of his little sister.

After finding this large fallen tree for his portrait, the oldest brother inspired his entire family to venture out onto the tree for a few family pics.   I was happy to follow his lead.

On our way out of the woods, the family stopped at this bridge.  I stood in the stream below to snap this photo of them.  By the end of the shoot, I was soaked.

I told the E family, “I can’t wait to photograph you guys again.”  Look for more photos of their adventures this fall.

Where’s your favorite location for taking photos?  Do you like going on photo adventures or is there one or two places that you rely on for good photographs?

On Monday, Annabelle woke up with a burst of energy. She shouted, “Nanna and Grandma are coming!” Her dad and I had to remind her, “Not until Friday . . . ”

On Tuesday, Annabelle asked us, “When are Nanna and Grandma coming?” Again, we told her, “They’re coming on Friday.” She shuffled away, looking a little defeated.

By Thursday, the anticipation was getting to her. She woke up, came downstairs, and with a teensy bit of hope in her voice said, “I think Nanna and Grandma are coming today.” I shook my head, no. “But they’ll be here tomorrow,” I tried.

When Friday arrived, she ran to the front door and looked outside. “Where are they?” I told her, “They’ll be here after nap.” I decided I ought to keep her busy; I took her and her brother to run errands: off we went to the grocery store, the bread shop, and a party store to look for silly birthday decorations for Levi’s party that weekend.

As the hours passed, and the time drew closer and closer for my mom and mother-in-law to arrive, Annabelle grew more and more excited. Every ten minutes she’d run to our front windows to check for the car. Then she’d beg me to call them (they were driving into town together) so she could tell them to hurry. Stuck in traffic, my mother told her, “We need to move the other cars off the road.” Later Annabelle asked me, “Mommy, why does Nanna need to move the cars?”

Finally, around 9:00 p.m., after a very long and tiring drive, the two grandmas pulled up to our house. Annabelle shrieked and rushed for the door. I don’t think she could’ve been more excited. Unless of course, her grandmothers had brought along her cousins.

And, once our visit started, it felt like an unstoppable energy pushed us through the weekend: we all just seemed to go, go, go, which also happens to be Levi’s favorite word right now. “Go-oh!” While the kids and the grandmas played, my husband took off for a long and hilly bike ride, I went on a photo shoot where I found myself tromping through a stream and climbing up rocks; and when we all met up again, we went to the awesome Great Harvest Bread Shop, such a treat! Add to that that it’s not often that we’re all together, I wanted to make sure that I got a few photographs of us all. I begged my family to walk around from shop to shop and building to building so I could find the perfect place to take photos.

Directly across from the bread shop is a fine Italian restaurant; its brick wall, I think, is an awesome backdrop for portraits.

Annabelle didn’t mind posing with Nanna; of course, she can be reluctant in front of the camera too. I’d been eyeing the weathered wooden door of the same Italian restaurant for months now; someday I’d love to dismantle these doors (if the owner would ever part with them) and set them up in my backyard as part of an outdoor studio.   In the meantime, I’ll just have to make do . . . Annabelle agreed to sit for just a few pictures in front of the awesome doors.

Then I handed off the camera for just a minute to have my photo taken. I owe this portrait to my mother-in-law.

I could tell my own mother was in the “having her picture taken” mood, so I asked her to sit for a few more shots. Sometimes she loves to have her picture taken, and like many people, there are times when she’ll give me a look that says, “Do not point that thing in my direction.” Luckily, and maybe the wood backdrop had something to do with it, this time she let me shoot away:

I was also in the mood to be photographed. I have to admit that I myself usually don’t like to have my picture taken; I prefer to hide behind the camera. But, like my mother, I have my moments. They tend to occur after I’ve showered, applied makeup, combed my hair, and put on a shirt that is spit-up and mud free. That is, I almost never like to be photographed. ;)

When I do, though, oh, it can be fun.

And now that I look back on our family session, it looks like the more that I let loose and let myself have fun, the more fun we all had.

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When was the last time you let someone take your picture? Did you have fun with it?

This week was a very full week . . . a busy week, an embarrassing week, a tiring and exciting week.  Let me tell you about it:

I felt proud.  I watched Annabelle at her first swim lessons.  I watched her push off the side of the pool and swim to her swim instructor.  I watched her jump from the side of the pool into his arms too.  I also listened to her whisper, later in the week, when we saw her teacher at the public pool,  ”Mommy, Joseph said hi to me!” Her first crush, maybe?  She says she can’t wait for her next two lessons.

I felt busy.  As mentioned, Annabelle took two swim lessons and she also took a ballet class.  She also had more than a few playdates and she dragged Levi and me to the pool more than a couple of times too.   Add to that that we’re celebrating Levi’s one year birthday tomorrow and that my mother and mom-in-law are coming in from out of town . . . . It’s been busy.  I feel like a mommy-running around-without her head on.  Planning a party, cleaning the house, and trying to rearrange furniture for guests.  I’ve definitely crossed a new threshhold this week with crazy.

I also felt embarrassed.  After dropping Annabelle off at ballet class, I decided to be uber-productive mommy and multitask myself away.  I ran over to the cake shop to order an icecream cake for Levi’s birthday.  Which took forever.  Meanwhile, outside it started to pour.  I had about 20 minutes left before I needed to pick Annabelle up from class.  I decided to be ambitious.  So I ran into the grocery store.  I purchased, oh, about a hundred dollars worth of groceries.  I even purchased a 24 pack of toilet paper  (hey, we’re having guests and a party) and a huge “Happy Birthday” monster balloon for Levi.  It was  a very big balloon.  But, when I got back to my car, rain still pouring, I discovered that I didn’t have my keys with me.  Uh-oh.  I crammed my groceries into the back of our umbrella stroller, threw the rest of the groceries up on the roof of my car and ran through the rain back to Annabelle’s ballet class.  There I waited and waited and waited for Annabelle’s teacher to wrap up class (gosh, this lady gets carried away); then I waited and waited and waited for Annabelle to get her stickers; then I waited and waited and waited for Annabelle to strip out of her leotard and get into her clothes so that we could run out of the studio back to the car.  The entire time I felt like I was on speed, like I was a monster mom, repeating over and over, “Hurry, hurry, hurry!”  Definitely not a zen moment.  The groceries turned out to be very wet but quite fine.  Monster mom chilled out.  At home, I enjoyed a very nice glass of wine while the kids watched Nick Jr.

“Yowsas!”   I felt the newness, with an ouch factor of 10, of my first bikini wax. Okay, so this is a little personal, okay, even more personal than I usually get here, but I thought this story might benefit those of you who are considering a bikini wax.  I’d been watching old reruns of Sex and the City on TBS and saw an episode where Carrie goes to L.A. and gets waxed by a tech to the stars.  She winds up “very waxed” with a brazilian wax that makes her a wee bit too sensitive.  I wanted no part of that kind of waxing.

But, While at the pool this week, I looked down and to my horror, I had, well, more than a few stray hairs.  I decide that while I like being “au” natural, even down yonder, that it might be a good idea to tidy things up.  So I made an appointment for a wax and the next evening, off I went to a most painful but comical experience.  If I had had the pleasure of observing me getting waxed by the Asian technician, from say, the next room over where ladies were getting pedicures, I might think that it sounded something like Steve Carrell’s character in the 40 Year Old Virgin.  And yes, the tech laughed at me through the entire waxing, though in her defense, it’s hard not to laugh when the woman you’re waxing laughs when she is in pain.  It was like, RIIIIPP!!!  ”Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!  Ha, ha, ha!!”   Yes, I laugh when hair is ripped out of my body.    I’m weird, I know this. But oh, the things a girl will do to avoid being “hairy down there.”

Meanwhile, I felt aged, in an odd way.  In yoga class that is.  Since Levi’s birth and my ppd diagnosis, I’ve been practicing yoga just about everyday.  I’m pretty flexible because of it.  So when our teacher told us to move into plow pose and I easily swung my legs over and behind my head and let my knees touch the floor behind me, I wasn’t expecting to feel my palms sweating with a rush of heat over my chest, my arms, and my face.  I thought that perhaps I’d experienced a movement of kundilini up my spine.  Wow, I thought, this could be a major yoga moment for me; I thought, I must be feeling my energy move up my body.  So after class I asked our teacher.  She made a face and said, “Well, I haven’t heard of that happening before.”  And then, “Where are you in your cycle?”   Apparently, I had had my first hot flash.   Shit.  I guess I’m no yogi master.  No kundilini moving through my body.  Just age.  And let me say that I am not looking forward to menopause.  If what I felt in yoga is what I am going to experience night after night after night when my body goes through “the change,”  uh, uh, I think I’d rather not.

And yet, I also felt young, in an annoying way.  I’ve started getting into tasting and drinking wine.  I’ve never been much of a drinker but when my husband started bringing home a yummy dessert wine week after week, I decided to start branching out, trying different reds and whites.  I discovered I’m not a fan of sparkling wines or roses and that my favorite wines tend to be reds.  Anyway . . . getting back to the age thing.  I’m twenty-nine.  I realize that this is not very young nor am I old.  And I suppose I should feel grateful for what I am about to share, but I’m not.  I feel annoyed.  Every time I go into the grocery store or wine store or even when I order a glass of wine while I’m out for dinner with my husband, I get carded.  Yes, yes, I know, you’re probably thinking, well, enjoy it while it lasts.  I mean, just 3 months ago I was worried about wrinkles and getting older.  But this whole getting carded thing.  It’s just embarrassing.  Especially when the carder repeatedly looks at my license and then my face and then back at my license and then looks at my two children, like she is checking to see any resemblance between us to see whether I really am old enough to have two babies.  It’s just so humiliating.  And this isn’t a new thing either.  Since having Annabelle, I think I’ve been mistaken for her nanny more than a few times.  Nowadays she looks a great deal like me so I get looks less and less.  But getting carded just sucks.  I hate it.  But I don’t want to “look old” either.  I’m not going to stop wearing makeup, dress frumpy, or do whatever it is that keeps people, like my husband, from getting carded.  You know what, I bet it’s because I smile alot.  I look too damn happy to be my age.  Little do they know that I’m taking a great antidepressant.

Last, I felt real empathy for a friend of mine who is going through a difficult time.  I can’t say what the problem is or who the person is but I’ve been listening and listening and listening, not knowing what the heck to say.  But what I feel?  I feel sadness, utter sadness, the way I think this other person feels it, for what is happening in his/her life.  And it sucks because there is absolutely nothing else I can do but listen.  I realize that listening is “doing something” but it is frustrating still to be able to take no action to help.

So, how was your week?

It all starts in the mall bathroom (at least this time it does)
I pick you up before I dry my hands
You need to wash your hands
You shriek
My wet hands wet your shirt
You hate getting your shirt wet

Our stroller blocks people trying to get into the bathroom stalls
I focus on you
You scream and scream and scream
I decide it’s time to go home
“We’re going home.”
You remind me that I’d promised you a train ride
I feel like we’re going on a “mommy and me” train wreck
I shake my head. No, I tell you.
You scream and scream and scream
I turn and walk away. I walk and walk and walk

I keep my head up and my eyes on you
You stomp behind me
I tell myself to keep cool
“Do not yell. Do not yell.” I repeat this over and over in my head.
You grab at my dress and pull hard. You step in front of the stroller and holler “NO!”
I walk and walk and walk

I refuse to let myself be a three year old.
You need me to be the mom. You need me to help you calm down.
I walk. You scream. People stare. I pay them no mind. I walk. You scream.
What feels like hours later, we find our car.
You refuse to get into the car. I load up our stroller and put your brother in his carseat.
You refuse to get into your carseat.

You jump into the passenger seat
You scream. I look at you. I make eye contact.
I open my arms and pull you onto my lap.
You curl up into a ball and just sob.
I rub your head and brush your hair off your face.
I kiss you.
I love you so much. I don’t want you to know how hard this is for me, sometimes.
I want you to be able to show your emotions
and I want you to be able to trust that mommy and daddy are safe places.

I need to be mindful that yes, yes, you are growing up, yes, yes, you are smart and loving and emotional, and yes, yes, yes, you need your mommy and your mommy most definitely needs you.

And we made it through another day.

Even though I should read Dr. Sears Baby Book, I read Wine for Dummies.

Even though I know I should wake up at 6:30 to go to yoga class, I sleep until 8 and run around with my kids, twirling around, skipping, and lifting them up over my head. Just as good of a workout for body and for soul.

Even though I think I should save every penny for camera equipment, I buy shoes.

Even though I know I should be grateful for what I have and hold onto to old pieces of furniture, I sell the old stuff to make room for some new stuff.

And even though I know my moisturizer, foot and hand cream, shampoo and conditioner, and my makeup too contain all sorts of weird chemicals, I use them. I want nice skin, smooth hands and feet, a clean mane (roar), and lipstick. I just do.

Even though I think I ought to encourage my daughter to play with her wooden, natural, educational toys, I laugh when she and her brother play with their colorful, plastic McDonalds’ set.

Even though I know gasoline and oil are wrecking the Gulf, ruining natural life and wrecking the lives of people who depend on a clean ocean, I fill my tank up and drive. I say to myself, “I want to help but I need to drive. I live in this world.” So I think about making a donation or collecting Toby’s hair to ship to the cleanup crews. Pet hair apparently absorbs oil.

And even though I sat down to check e-mail and only e-mail, I wrote this post.

What do you do when you know or think that you ought to be doing something else?

What I know is, sometimes it feels good to break my little rules, the shoulds, the oughts. It’s somehow liberating.

With Levi’s first birthday less than a month away, I decided to put together a slideshow of his first year here on planet Earth. For the last week or so, my hubby’s been taking the kids outside for a half hour to an hour so that I could review, organize, re-edit, and pull together my favorite photos from our first twelve months together. What I notice is that the number of photos increases somewhere around Levi’s fourth or fifth month, which I think corresponds with when life with two babes and ppd started to improve for me. The urge to be snap snap snap happy returned (I remember forcing my family to sit in front of the wreathes at Whole Foods and asking a bypasser to photograph us after I’d set up my camera. My hubby endures a lot, :-) ).

Anyway, I wanted to photograph Levi with and without an adorable little boy outfit on (they are hard to come by after all). I wanted to remember his pudgy baby thighs, butt, little belly, arms and legs, and oh of course, his adorable chubby baby cheeks. And now, my little bear has six teeth!

Meanwhile, Annabelle is snapping away with her own camera. She’s more enthusiastic about photographing flowers, our home, and her feet than her baby brother, but I have to say she makes a fine assistant. Most of the photos where Levi is smiling, I owe to her.

And some in a cute outfit that I searched high and low for. What’s up with the abundance of cute girl clothes and the shortage of cute boy clothes? Little boys need cute clothes too!

To celebrate Baby H’s one year birthday, I met with the S family for a morning session at their home.  Before the session, I met with Mrs. S to talk about the location of the shoot, clothes for the photos, and different kinds of portraiture . . . since my portfolio is in its early stages, I brought along a great book of stock photos that I’d picked up a few weeks before, which I’ll use until I can bring along albums of my own work to show clients.

On the day of the shoot, we started inside with Baby H and then moved outside for a little bit of play and pictures with her sister G; G loved being photographed and likewise the camera loved her too.  So expressive, such a free spirit.  After crawling around on my hands and knees and photographing the girls, their dog R and their roses, we regrouped for the family portraits.  As a final touch, we drove a mile down the road to a gorgeous old barn and asked the farmer whether we might take photos in front of the barn’s bright American flag.  Again I found myself crawling around and rolling around in the grass.  Great great fun.  Here’s a little peak at our session: