I haven't posted here since August.
I suppose that is indicative of many things, not the least of which is how busy I have been professionally.
Summer and Fall brought so many great opportunities and experiences, that I have found myself wondering if maintaining this blog is too much.
I have decided it is.
BUT...I also know that I will miss sharing here...so, since I also assume that if you are reading this, or commenting on it, we probably know each other in another fashion - either real life or facebook or flickr or something along those lines.
If we don't, I hope you won't feel abandoned, whoever you are...I know there are folks who read and don't comment...and since I am a creature that can wholly admit that I don't blog just for me, I also blog for the comments I will receive, the enjoyment we can share; I feel the need to know if my words are being read.
On that note, I plan to continue "blogging" via "Notes" on my personal facebook.
You can find me here. Send me a friend request if we aren't friends already; be sure to include a message telling me you came over from here...that would be incredibly helpful.
In addition, my business photography blog is now accessible via my website...www.urbanutopiaphotography.com and you'll find me there often. Comments are moderated, so it may take me a day or two to see it. I'd love some feedback there or to chat with you on facebook or twitter. :)
Talk to you soon. But not here. :) (After November anyway!)
Dana
Monday, November 22, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
How to...
How to end a really shitty day...well, if I'm honest...it's been a really shitty past 10 days or so...

{Dana}
1. Load up the car with the kids, and the stuff you sent the hubby to the store for.
2. Drive to the local beach without telling the kids where they are going.
3. Build a fire, spread out the sand toys and get out the s'mores supplies.
4. Just be.
5. Continue to just be. For a couple hours.

Ending the day like this is HIGHLY recommended for the soul.
{Dana}
An Open Letter to...Myself.
Dear Depressed Dana,
Just because you have thought you're whole life that you CAN do it ALL, doesn't mean you have to continue with this way of thinking.
Sometimes you can't do ANYTHING.
And this is okay.
Get to that place where you can agree with that statement.
Do what you need to get there.
And be okay with it.
Your family loves you, even if it's not the family you started out with, or were born into. You already know that "family of origin" and "family" are two different things.
Embrace that.
Do what you need to gain patience. If that means a mommy "time out", take one. If that means a day of guilt free "doing nothing", take it. Even if that means cancelling a much needed play date or staying inside on a sunny day.
Do what YOU need for a change.
And be okay with it.
Love yourself,
The "Other" Dana.
Just because you have thought you're whole life that you CAN do it ALL, doesn't mean you have to continue with this way of thinking.
Sometimes you can't do ANYTHING.
And this is okay.
Get to that place where you can agree with that statement.
Do what you need to get there.
And be okay with it.
Your family loves you, even if it's not the family you started out with, or were born into. You already know that "family of origin" and "family" are two different things.
Embrace that.
Do what you need to gain patience. If that means a mommy "time out", take one. If that means a day of guilt free "doing nothing", take it. Even if that means cancelling a much needed play date or staying inside on a sunny day.
Do what YOU need for a change.
And be okay with it.
Love yourself,
The "Other" Dana.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Girl
She is silly. Sillier by the day. (She wasn't really scared here, just acting. Though the blood curdling screams tended to tell otherwise.)
She likes thrill rides. All of a sudden. The Gravitron (and all it's variations) is her favorite ride at the carnival. She'll ride it over and over and over...well, you get the picture.
She is learning to laugh at herself. Gone is the self loathing and self pity that used to accompany potentially embarrassing moments. Like missing at the KIDDIE game. Now, that was hilarious!
She adores her daddy. She looks forward to their "Daddy-Daughter Dates". She becomes quite the Chatty Cathy when you ask her "how was it?" when they return. You must hear every detail. And I do. And I love it. I hope she knows just how blessed she is to have such a great dad. I think she's beginning to get it.
She is CRAZY BEAUTIFUL.
Like that photo above.
How can she still be so dang beautiful when acting crazy?
The world may not be ready for her, but she is getting ready for the world.
I love you baby. Grow slowly.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Boy
Revisions
Jeez.
Blogger is on my nerves. Or more accurately, my "blogger" skills are lacking and that is annoying. I am attempting to make some revisions to my personal blog so I can then make some good ones to my Urban Utopia Photography blog. You know, to make it more appealing, user friendly and inviting...maybe then I'll be more apt to update more often. *Sigh.*
So, if you come here and it's busted. It'll be back soon. This blog gets to be my guinea pig.
And I leave you with this:
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Lucky they're cute...
When I have days like today, well week's like this week...let's be honest here-annd it's only Tuesday, people-I like to see things like this, to remind me that not every day will be this rough.

Here's looking toward tomorrow.

Here's looking toward tomorrow.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Because I Suck...
Jeez.

I owe you peeps big time.
Is anyone even there anymore???
I don't blame you if you aren't.
So...to just jump headlong in, I'll just pick up right where I am right now.
Busy.
Busy with life. And decisions. And being okay making them or not making them just yet.
I have been flexing my creative muscles and my shutter finger at the same time.
Laughing at the kids singing their versions of that annoying commercial's jingle "I wear no pants...I wwweeee-aaarr no pants"...the girl sings it pretty standard, but the boy? The boy is usually a different story. So, par for the course he sings it "I wear no sweats. I weeeeaaa---rrr no sweats".
I know.
And just now, I heard him saying in a teasing voice to his sister, something about "poop on you" and "baby poop and baby diapers". Who knows? I'm not even going to ask what that was about, as I am pretty sure I don't want to know.
Let the crazy continue.
And I am relishing every moment.
Also...I'll leave you with this image...this is how most days end around here. Covered in band-aids. This one is from a day spent with fellow photog friends at a local park, and the boy, of course, ATE IT. HARD. There was screaming. As usual.

And "mommy's special band aids".
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Choices
Lately, I have been processing.
Processing information and realizations with regard to my family of origin.
Processing memories that have reconnected like wires in my brain that were fried and somehow, with hard work and an open mind (and a Higher Power) have mended themselves and electricity flows through them again.
I'm in Decision Land. And I fear that it will be lonely here. I know that making a decision like the one I am faced with will change things. It will change me. And it's been over 30 years coming. I've avoided it at all costs. I've held out hope that things will get better and change and that somehow I am the one that has all the power to make that happen.
My Higher Power seems to have other plans.
And I'm processing that.
And dealing with that.
And decision making.
And..
Seems like a lot of "and"s doesn't it?
I read this morning, after a very therapeutic meeting last night, "...The sense of being trapped is an illusion. We are not controlled by circumstances, our past, the expectations of others, or our unhealthy expectations of ourselves. We can choose what feels right for us, without guilt. We have options...Today I will open my thinking and myself to the choices available to me. I will make choices that are good for me."
While this is all helpful and enlightening, the journey and the choosing aren't made easier. BUT...yes, there is a "BUT"...I can give myself permission to not have all the answers and to take one moment at a time.
So that is what I'm doing...one moment at a time. Learning hard lessons. Lessons that are ripe for the picking. Learning to trust that my "family" and my "family of origin" may not be the same thing. Learning that I have a choice in which family members I associate with and which ones are unhealthy for me to involve in my life. Learning that I have a choice. And learning to choose to be accepting of that.
Processing information and realizations with regard to my family of origin.
Processing memories that have reconnected like wires in my brain that were fried and somehow, with hard work and an open mind (and a Higher Power) have mended themselves and electricity flows through them again.
I'm in Decision Land. And I fear that it will be lonely here. I know that making a decision like the one I am faced with will change things. It will change me. And it's been over 30 years coming. I've avoided it at all costs. I've held out hope that things will get better and change and that somehow I am the one that has all the power to make that happen.
My Higher Power seems to have other plans.
And I'm processing that.
And dealing with that.
And decision making.
And..
Seems like a lot of "and"s doesn't it?
I read this morning, after a very therapeutic meeting last night, "...The sense of being trapped is an illusion. We are not controlled by circumstances, our past, the expectations of others, or our unhealthy expectations of ourselves. We can choose what feels right for us, without guilt. We have options...Today I will open my thinking and myself to the choices available to me. I will make choices that are good for me."
While this is all helpful and enlightening, the journey and the choosing aren't made easier. BUT...yes, there is a "BUT"...I can give myself permission to not have all the answers and to take one moment at a time.
So that is what I'm doing...one moment at a time. Learning hard lessons. Lessons that are ripe for the picking. Learning to trust that my "family" and my "family of origin" may not be the same thing. Learning that I have a choice in which family members I associate with and which ones are unhealthy for me to involve in my life. Learning that I have a choice. And learning to choose to be accepting of that.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Life Lesson
This week I needed this.
I needed to read this.
I needed to hear this.
I needed to think about this in a way that I am unaccustomed to.
So I am.
And I'm going to share it with you.
I realize it's been about a month since my last post, and truly my absence has been irritating, even to me. I want to blog, but don't feel that much has been blog worthy or interesting enough to share here. What I would like to remember, is that it only has to be blog worthy and interesting to ME. I am thankful for my readers, commenters, and yes, even lurkers. But in the end, I blog for me; to share my life, to entertain myself and to get things off my chest. The universe is responding.
So I will share with you the item I read last night. Take from it what you will, as always.
From "The Language of Letting Go" by Melody Beattie
Control
Many of us have been trying to keep the whole world in orbit with sheer and forceful application of mental energy.
What happens if we let go, if we stop trying to keep the world orbiting and just let it whirl? It'll keep right on whirling. It'll stay right on track with no help from us. And we'll be free and relaxed enough to enjoy our place on it.
Control is an illusion, especially the kind of control we've been trying to exert. In fact, controlling gives other people, events, and diseases, such as alcoholism, control over us.
Whatever we try to control does have control over us and our life.
I have given this control to many things and people in my life. I have never gotten the results I wanted from controlling or trying to control people. What I received for my efforts is an unmanageable life, whether that unmanageability was inside me or in eternal events.
In recovery, we make a trade-off. We trade a life that we have tried to control, and we receive in return something better - a life that is manageable.
Today, I will exchange a controlled life for one that is manageable.
Have a great week everyone...I intend to learn to let go of what I think I can control a little bit more this week. Progress, not perfection, right?
I needed to read this.
I needed to hear this.
I needed to think about this in a way that I am unaccustomed to.
So I am.
And I'm going to share it with you.
I realize it's been about a month since my last post, and truly my absence has been irritating, even to me. I want to blog, but don't feel that much has been blog worthy or interesting enough to share here. What I would like to remember, is that it only has to be blog worthy and interesting to ME. I am thankful for my readers, commenters, and yes, even lurkers. But in the end, I blog for me; to share my life, to entertain myself and to get things off my chest. The universe is responding.
So I will share with you the item I read last night. Take from it what you will, as always.
From "The Language of Letting Go" by Melody Beattie
Control
Many of us have been trying to keep the whole world in orbit with sheer and forceful application of mental energy.
What happens if we let go, if we stop trying to keep the world orbiting and just let it whirl? It'll keep right on whirling. It'll stay right on track with no help from us. And we'll be free and relaxed enough to enjoy our place on it.
Control is an illusion, especially the kind of control we've been trying to exert. In fact, controlling gives other people, events, and diseases, such as alcoholism, control over us.
Whatever we try to control does have control over us and our life.
I have given this control to many things and people in my life. I have never gotten the results I wanted from controlling or trying to control people. What I received for my efforts is an unmanageable life, whether that unmanageability was inside me or in eternal events.
In recovery, we make a trade-off. We trade a life that we have tried to control, and we receive in return something better - a life that is manageable.
Today, I will exchange a controlled life for one that is manageable.
Have a great week everyone...I intend to learn to let go of what I think I can control a little bit more this week. Progress, not perfection, right?
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
Texting, Girl Style
Text between The Girl and me this afternoon, directly after she got out of her first Drill Team practice.
Girl: it was SO fun mom
Me: yay! your dad should be there to pick you up.
Girl: i'm in da car
Me: 'da'. Really? You are not 'hood. Try using 'the'.
Girl: Ur DA bomb
Me: that is the only time 'da' is appropriate.
Girl: ok fun sucker
I am pretty sure she wins this one.
Damn it.
Girl: it was SO fun mom
Me: yay! your dad should be there to pick you up.
Girl: i'm in da car
Me: 'da'. Really? You are not 'hood. Try using 'the'.
Girl: Ur DA bomb
Me: that is the only time 'da' is appropriate.
Girl: ok fun sucker
I am pretty sure she wins this one.
Damn it.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
"Aha!" Moment, Captured
While perusing a helpful website, I unexpectedly ran across some "Words of Wisdom".
The last one on the page; the last one I read; for a reason, I imagine, was this:
Expectations are just premeditated resentments.
I went to the site without a conscious reason.
I think I found my reason. I needed to get this message today. I am aware of that, at least.
I'll try to think of expectations in this way, because boy, how often it is true for me is overwhelming.
The last one on the page; the last one I read; for a reason, I imagine, was this:
Expectations are just premeditated resentments.
I went to the site without a conscious reason.
I think I found my reason. I needed to get this message today. I am aware of that, at least.
I'll try to think of expectations in this way, because boy, how often it is true for me is overwhelming.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Exploring
Last year, I started following a television series called Ruby, maybe you've heard of it. Maybe you've watched it. At first it was just inspirational to watch someone attempt to save herself from herself. I thought she had such strength and determination, all while having that slightly annoying Southern ditsy-drama queen thing going for her. (This is not to be taken as an insult to my Southern friends, I have personally had experience with this type of Southern Belle, and this is not to be taken as a blanket statement.) I love Ruby. I love her courage, faith and sense of humor.
Ruby, like myself, is missing chunks of her life in her memory banks. There are many spans of years she can't remember a single thing that happened. So do I. I connected to her on that level until she decided to visit her old school. I didn't understand why. I didn't think it would help, and I was seriously judgemental about her reaction.
That was a year ago.
And an experience ago.
Last weekend, I pointed out my mom's old place to a friend. Then I decided to stop there. This place, seen previously as my mom's old home, became something more for me. I expected to point out the poor decision making that went into this home of theirs, this weird situation I found them in but what I didn't expect was to feel. You see, I never lived there. They moved to this property after I no longer lived at home. I visited. My daughter spent the night. Even I spent the night. It felt a lifetime ago, and in a sense, it was.
I didn't expect to be affected by this place. I thought I was detached from it. I thought that I had no feelings attached to it.
I was wrong.
This place brought back a lot of memories for me. A lot of pain. A lot of anguish. A lot of fear and loneliness I didn't even know I felt at that time. I know now, mostly because I am no longer in that place in my life and honestly I am no longer that girl.
This place suddenly felt less pathetic and more sad to me. Sad that my mother had valid hopes when she established that home. Sad that she is unable to see her repetitive actions. Sad that I keep expecting her to, even when I no longer think I have any expectations of her.
I suppose I get it now, Ruby. I get why you went back to that place. If it affected you in the way revisiting this place did for me, and the memories came flooding back, I can understand why you would want to keep doing it. Keep visiting these places. Keep pushing your memory to...well...remember; to release those memories to you again and trust that you can handle them.
I get it, and I'm sorry for the judging.
I am there too.
Ruby, like myself, is missing chunks of her life in her memory banks. There are many spans of years she can't remember a single thing that happened. So do I. I connected to her on that level until she decided to visit her old school. I didn't understand why. I didn't think it would help, and I was seriously judgemental about her reaction.
That was a year ago.
And an experience ago.
Last weekend, I pointed out my mom's old place to a friend. Then I decided to stop there. This place, seen previously as my mom's old home, became something more for me. I expected to point out the poor decision making that went into this home of theirs, this weird situation I found them in but what I didn't expect was to feel. You see, I never lived there. They moved to this property after I no longer lived at home. I visited. My daughter spent the night. Even I spent the night. It felt a lifetime ago, and in a sense, it was.
I didn't expect to be affected by this place. I thought I was detached from it. I thought that I had no feelings attached to it.
I was wrong.
This place brought back a lot of memories for me. A lot of pain. A lot of anguish. A lot of fear and loneliness I didn't even know I felt at that time. I know now, mostly because I am no longer in that place in my life and honestly I am no longer that girl.
This place suddenly felt less pathetic and more sad to me. Sad that my mother had valid hopes when she established that home. Sad that she is unable to see her repetitive actions. Sad that I keep expecting her to, even when I no longer think I have any expectations of her.
I suppose I get it now, Ruby. I get why you went back to that place. If it affected you in the way revisiting this place did for me, and the memories came flooding back, I can understand why you would want to keep doing it. Keep visiting these places. Keep pushing your memory to...well...remember; to release those memories to you again and trust that you can handle them.
I am curious now. I am curious about the dozens of other places we have lived. I am curious if I could get my memories back if I visited them.
I am curious, scared and exhilarated at the thought.
I get it, and I'm sorry for the judging.
I am there too.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Opposites Day
Dear McDonald's Patrons:
In an effort to find the positive in things, and possibly be less catty (for a minute at least, what do you want from me?) I want to take a moment to thank you for a few things. I mean, I REALLY want to give you props.
I want to thank those parents who don't allow their children to come over to the table where my three-year-old is trying desperately to not be distracted. Thank you for teaching your brats to keep their hands to themselves and not take his Happy Meal toy...off his tray...at HIS table...after I have asked them twice not to...while giving you dirty looks.
Thank you.
I would like to thank those parents who realize that ragged footy pajamas are not appropriate at lunch time in Playplace on a six-year-old. (Assuming she is six-years-old is being generous, trust me.)
Thank you.
Also, to expand on that gratitude, I will thank the parents who don't then have their generously-six-year-old girl change into actual clothes in the middle of a Playplace that has a bathroom RIGHT THERE. IN THE PLAYPLACE. While she screams that boys will see her naked, and "please mommy, can we just go in the potty".
Thank you.
I want to thank the parents who don't allow their children to literally walk on the 3" wide window sill behind the booth we are sitting at, who subsequently fall down onto the booth we are sitting at and crying for what feels like several minutes while a stranger consoles them until their mother finally realizes where the wailing is coming from and that it is, indeed, her spawn.
Thank you.
I would like to thank the parents who teach their children not to climb the outside fence of the Playplace. You know, the one that says "do not play on fence". Yes, that one. Thank you.
In addition, it is my pleasure to thank those parents who made today's outing the most eventful and interesting hour of my week. Thank you.
Lastly, but certainly not least, I want to thank the parents who follow through on a playdate they set up with a certain three-year-old boy who gets very upset when he is told for three days that his friend will be having lunch with him in Paradise...er...McDonald's... I would also like to thank that same parent for calling to tell me they will not make it to said playdate. A very special thank you for that.
You know...maybe I just shouldn't have gone out in public today.
Smooches,
Buttercupyaya
P.S. that may have been less catty, but the snark? I will always give you a bit o' the snark! You're welcome.
In an effort to find the positive in things, and possibly be less catty (for a minute at least, what do you want from me?) I want to take a moment to thank you for a few things. I mean, I REALLY want to give you props.
I want to thank those parents who don't allow their children to come over to the table where my three-year-old is trying desperately to not be distracted. Thank you for teaching your brats to keep their hands to themselves and not take his Happy Meal toy...off his tray...at HIS table...after I have asked them twice not to...while giving you dirty looks.
Thank you.
I would like to thank those parents who realize that ragged footy pajamas are not appropriate at lunch time in Playplace on a six-year-old. (Assuming she is six-years-old is being generous, trust me.)
Thank you.
Also, to expand on that gratitude, I will thank the parents who don't then have their generously-six-year-old girl change into actual clothes in the middle of a Playplace that has a bathroom RIGHT THERE. IN THE PLAYPLACE. While she screams that boys will see her naked, and "please mommy, can we just go in the potty".
Thank you.
I want to thank the parents who don't allow their children to literally walk on the 3" wide window sill behind the booth we are sitting at, who subsequently fall down onto the booth we are sitting at and crying for what feels like several minutes while a stranger consoles them until their mother finally realizes where the wailing is coming from and that it is, indeed, her spawn.
Thank you.
I would like to thank the parents who teach their children not to climb the outside fence of the Playplace. You know, the one that says "do not play on fence". Yes, that one. Thank you.
In addition, it is my pleasure to thank those parents who made today's outing the most eventful and interesting hour of my week. Thank you.
Lastly, but certainly not least, I want to thank the parents who follow through on a playdate they set up with a certain three-year-old boy who gets very upset when he is told for three days that his friend will be having lunch with him in Paradise...er...McDonald's... I would also like to thank that same parent for calling to tell me they will not make it to said playdate. A very special thank you for that.
You know...maybe I just shouldn't have gone out in public today.
Smooches,
Buttercupyaya
P.S. that may have been less catty, but the snark? I will always give you a bit o' the snark! You're welcome.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
{Quickie} Fast & Funny
Scene: driving down Highway 99 in South Everett
The Girl: Mom, what is Honey's.
Me (fully anticipating the look of horror that would elicit from her face upon answering): a strip club
The Girl: EWWWWWWW!
The Boy (without missing a beat): I want you take me to Honey's, Mommy. I love it.
We laughed.
We laughed hard.
Seriously.
The Girl: Mom, what is Honey's.
Me (fully anticipating the look of horror that would elicit from her face upon answering): a strip club
The Girl: EWWWWWWW!
The Boy (without missing a beat): I want you take me to Honey's, Mommy. I love it.
We laughed.
We laughed hard.
Seriously.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)






