Recipe Friday, on Tuesday - Hilary With One L

I’m late (or early, depending on how you look at it) with the recipe! Time is just flying away from me. There aren’t enough hours in the day for me to get done the things that I want to get done, the things that I need to get done, and the things that have to get done.

By the time everyone is up, fed, dressed, and out the door, I turn my attention to things in the house that have been calling me. Would you believe I’ve been letting dishes fester in the sink?! So unlike me. The trash cans are overflowing, there’s laundry to be done, groceries to be purchased, presents to be wrapped. What, you ask, has me so neglectful? It’s not Pinterest (this time). I’m not catching up on Scandal on DVR. I’m not scrapbooking, either.

I’m reveling in my new freedom! No more boot, snitches!! Woop! Woop!

awww, yeah!

And I’ve been playing with my new photography backdrop. I decided to upgrade to a paper backdrop for a more seamless, professional look. The bed sheet over my backdrop stand was economical, but it really just photographed poorly. The paper backdrop is ah-may-zing! You can’t even tell that’s my living room, can you?

baby mohawks are funny for everyone but the baby.

So, the girls have been my unwilling models as I test things out. Seeing as how I can pay them in cookies, my overhead stays low and their enthusiasm stays high. I’ve also been busy with holiday shoot. Trying to fit everyone into the schedule is a great problem to have. I’m getting to a point where I can say that I love what I do. For a while, I was hesitant to embrace my status as a professional photographer or to say that I really liked it. I was afraid that doing so would invite some bad karma. Nothing specific that I could point to, but just that feeling of second guessing myself or feeling like I’ve totally blown a shoot. I had this feeling that one minute I’d be breaking my arm patting myself on the back and the next I’d be banging my head against the wall like, “Why? Why? What was I thinking?”

The other day, I was on my way to a shoot and realized, I’ve been doing this for over a year now. I’m not an amateur photographer. I have people seek me out and pay me to take their photographs. I am donating my services to a silent auction. I’ve built a sizable portfolio. My skills are constantly developing (no pun intended). I’ve got great equipment. I’ve got repeat clients. I can say with confidence and pride, “I am a photographer,” when asked what I do.

I had a bittersweet moment at the hubs’ office party when I was able to correct someone who assumed I stayed home taking care of the children. A couple of years ago, someone I had just met asked me if I was a lawyer like the hubs, and when I said, “No, I’m at home with our children,” this person literally said, “Oh,” and turned their back to me to strike up a conversation with someone else.

Literally.

But, as I was saying. . .

As I’ve discussed before, taking care of kids is no easy feat, whether you’re working from home, at home, outside of the home or any derivation where the home is concerned. I loathe the whole “mommy wars” phenomena that has been created, continually stirred up and perpetuated by the media. Parenting is hard, no matter who is doing it. Period. For someone to dismiss me because that’s how I choose to spend my wake-filled hours is hurtful and disrespectful. While I did take a small measure of pride identifying my occupation as a photographer, I felt like I had to put that first, and relegate my work as a parent in order to hold the attention of the other person. I just had the weirdest thought: It’s like the end of Dirty Dancing and instead of Johnny telling Dr. Houseman that no one puts baby in a corner, it’s me telling that yahoo that no one puts motherhood in a corner. Too much? Yeah, it sounded better in my head, too.

No one puts as much pressure on myself as I do, so I know that my choice was my own. Still, the fact that I go through such mental gymnastics speaks to the state of affairs in which we find ourselves.

I just read an article on Huffington Post by Amy Morrison entitled, “Why You Are Never Failing As a Mother,” and it was so timely. Earlier in the day, I was failing. I had been overseeing a playdate between Mo, Co and a friend, trying to get them to slow down as they decorated cookies, put the sprinkles ON the cookies instead of IN their mouths, defrost some dinner, run a load of laundry, answer some emails, and deal with the massive poop Vivi gifted me with nary a wipe in sight. Fast forward to the end of the night, when everyone was tucked in. I finally got around to reading the article and it felt like Morrison was giving me a “hang in there” high five.

She writes, “. . . but I’m just saying that we are part of a generation that considers parenting to be a skill. Like a true skill that needs to be mastered and perfected and if we don’t get it right, we think our kids suffer for it — and that’s hard sh*t to keep up with. That’s not to say other generations didn’t have it tough or think parenting was important, but there just wasn’t the same level of scrutiny that could be liked, tweeted or instagramed all at once.

You are in the trenches when you have a baby. To the untrained eye it seems pretty straightforward and easy — you feed them, you bathe them, you pick them up when they cry — but it’s more than that. It’s perpetual motion with a generous layer of guilt and self-doubt spread on top, and that takes its toll.

Feeling like you also need to keep on top of scrapbooking, weight loss, up-cycled onesies, handprints, crock pot meals, car seat recalls, sleeping patterns, poo consistency, pro-biotic supplements, swimming lessons, electromagnetic fields in your home and television exposure is like trying to knit on a rollercoaster — it’s f*cking hard.

We live in a time when we can Google everything, share ideas and expose our children to amazing opportunities, but anyone that implies that they have it figured out is either drunk or lying (or both), so don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.” I need this tattooed on my forehand, my forearm, my forefinger. It’s not that my own mom hasn’t told me this about four billion times, but reading it again from someone who doesn’t know me personally, but does know the road I’m on. . .well, my mom is supposed to be my cheerleader, you know? I know I shouldn’t worry about what other people think about me. What I think about myself is the most important thing. I think I’m getting the job done. I mean, they’re still alive, right? I’m being flip, of course. I know that I’m doing the right things for my girls. I’m setting good examples and following the best practices set forth by my own parents and in-laws.

In the wake of the tragedies around the countries that have captured our hearts and attention, I’m reminded to not be too hard on myself, or on the girls. I’m giving extra hugs and kisses. I’m saying more prayers. I’m letting little things slide just a bit more. I’m giving in to dessert more often than not. Of course, the veggies have to be eaten first. . .that’s a non-negotiable.

The “Down with Veggies” Face.

(image)

Sauteed Asparagus with Garlic and Cherry Tomatoes

Ingredients
1 bunch asparagus, ends snapped or spears sliced into coins
1 pint cherry tomatoes, halved
3 tbs minced garlic
2 tbs olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Directions
Heat the olive oil over medium heat in a saucepan.
Add minced garlic, stirring until it begins to turn brown.
Add asparagus, stirring occasionally and cooking until bright green and tender, about 5-7 minutes.
Add tomatoes, stirring until softened, another two minutes.
Sprinkle with salt and pepper and serve hot.

IN: recipes ON: December 18, 2012 BY: Hilary 2 COMMENTS