I’ve really let myself get into a funk. A massive funk. The kind where every little thing just sent me deeper into my funk. Lately everything has felt like a struggle – everything. Not even rushing my baby to the hospital brought me out of it like I thought it might. I felt like the whole "what if” worst case imaginings that turned out to be a normal childhood ailment should have made me grateful and aware of what a baby I was being. But no, the funk lived (lives?) on.
Tom and I went out Saturday night and had a nice evening with just the two of us. We talked about all of this and I’m starting to get over it. The main thing is I worked up the courage to tell him that I’m not anywhere near ready to go into business as a photographer. He and I agreed that I would get this semi-pro camera with the idea that within a year I would be earning money from it. And that’s put pressure on me. Which I need, honestly, but it was too much. I’ve been taking picture after picture and editing like crazy trying to get to a point where I produce consistent in camera and post processed images. I am going to go forward working on one aspect of my photography at a time rather than all at once. But I think to do this I actually need to take on some sessions with people other than my kids. So I need some courage to offer sessions to people I know. Big step for me.
Tom and I began planting my seedlings into our newly enormous vegetable garden (living on a farm does have some advantages – especially since farm owner – my FIL – enjoyed the fruits of my tiny garden last year and gave me a huge section of land this year). Miss V just played in the dirt while we planted rows of lima beans, squash, zucchini, watermelons, canteloupes and tomatoes. Oh, and my mystery plant. I ordered a bunch of seeds and planted them in a little greenhouse thing. I planted them in a certain order so I would know what was where. Most of them died (just one facet of my funk) but one plant thrived. All of them lived and look fabulous. But I can’t remember what they are. By process of elimination, they’re either eggplant or bell peppers. I *think* they’re peppers. But I can’t be sure until I see some fruit.
My garden is so me. Tom insisted that we have rows (last year it was sort of a jumble, but it was tiny and I didn’t have room to leave spaces for silly things like rows). So it’s slightly neat. But I have tomatoes here and more tomatoes a few rows over. I have a row that is eggplants, red bell peppers and roma tomatoes. Another row is carrots and cayenne peppers. I did draw a map. Now let’s hope I don’t lose it, like I did the notes on what I planted in my mini-greenhouse.
Yesterday was my Mother’s Day. And realizing it made me kind of unhappy. I had the day I truly wanted yesterday. We worked in the garden, we drove around playing sweet car games that I played as a kid, we wandered around Lowe’s for hours picking plants and garden tools. When we got home, the kids and I worked in the garden more while Tom helped his dad with the farming. I made an easy dinner for the kids while I dined on freshly made salsa. I finished off the bottle of wine Tom bought for me last week and then read a bit of a book.
The thing that makes me unhappy is that I didn’t enjoy the actual day of Mother’s Day. Everyone in my family visits my grandmother and basically we have a big cookout at her house every year. But we now live two hours away. So I spent four hours in the car. I hate to think that I don’t want to go there, though. My family is hugely important to me and I’ll continue to go, because I kind of liked having my unofficial Mother’s Day yesterday.
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