I can’t believe my baby sister is getting married! I’m so stinking glad that you and Adam found each other and I’ll have a brother-in-law as delightful as Adam! I’m jazzed for your wedding, but honestly, I’m mostly relieved that I won the bet that we made. Just in case you forgot, three years ago this August, we bet that you would be married in three years. I knew you’d find that *someone* but you weren’t convinced. I was SO sure you’d get married, I made the public declaration that I would tattoo “LOSER” somewhere on my body. Super glad that’s not going to happen. By like 2 months. So my left butt cheek thanks you This IS just a gentle reminder that I fully expect your first born daughter to be named Rachel. I’ll gently remind you of that for the next ten years or so!

Okay, now that THAT is out of the way, I’d like to approach the delicate subject of the location of your wedding! There are several suggestions for where the ceremony/reception will take place. Karis’ suggestion is the back field, for both the ceremony and the reception…in my opinion, the prettiest, but it’s like a ten mile hike through mud, mosquitoes, rabid coyotes, alligators and uncivilized local Brookvillites who may be lurking in the woods. YOUR suggestion for the reception was the pole barn. I repeat: the. pole. barn. I know you said that it didn’t matter if you got married (and I quote) “in a garbage can since I’m marrying the man of my dreams”, but…IT’S A POLLLLLLLLLLLLLE BARN. And finally, the suggestion from the only one of us who apparently was blessed with any brains: The field very close to mom and dad’s house that has an actual gorgeous little wood barn on it. And a flat surface. And easier electricity. And a really pretty vegetable/flower garden. And a field of horses beyond it.

I know visualizing all of this can be hard, and since you’re in Florida with limited time until the big day (uh, less than two months), I thought it would be best to create an idea of what your special day would be like at each location! I enlisted the help of Anne, who was more enthusiastic than I even dreamed she could be to throw on dad’s best tween coat and rock an eyeliner mustache, to play the part of your Mr. Wonderful.

So, without further ado…snippets from your potential special day….

First up…Karis’ field! I’ll admit that pretty-factor-wise, it’s up there! I love the lake in the background, and try to ignore the garish light, because at an evening wedding, the sun would be setting just over that hill beyond the lake. So you’d be perfectly backlit!

If you survive the trek TO this location. See that side by side in the background? With 150 guests coming you’ll either need that thing pulling a wagon hay-ride style, or force them to walk through the hazards I mentioned above.

Think about it.

Now imagine all of these trees have leaves and are strung up with a million white lights. From the magical electricity we’ll somehow manage to run back to this field in BFE.

And imagine this is a filet

Alright, next stop is the *shudder* POLE BARN.

(I feel if I capitalize it, it will sink in that you want your reception to be in a P.O.L.E. B.A.R.N. when you have so so so so many better options)

BUT WAIT!!!!!

MAJOR HAZARD ALERT!!!!!

This ravine is a death trap waiting to happen. You could fall in.

WHAT NOW?!?!?!?!

Bam. Wedding is ruined before it even started.

Your MARRIAGE is ruined before it even started. No man wants a wife who would pick such a dangerous location for a wedding reception. That’s a fact.

We’ll pretend you survived, for the sake of this experiment to go on.

(as if)

Now you’re getting your first glimpse of the POLE BARN as a backdrop for your reception. Where 75% of the pictures will be taken at and the majority of time your guests spend at your wedding will take place at. Besides the fact that looking at it (under the setting of wedding – don’t worry dad, it’s not ugly as far as pole barns go) will make your eyes bleed rivers of blood, it’s a proven fact that if you have your wedding reception at a pole barn you get pregnant immediately.

You heard me, Adam and Lauren AKA the Anti Children Duo, PREG-NANT. Hence the picture of me holding my stomach and Anne looking utterly devastated.

And I’m crying in the dancing pictures, because I GUARANTEE THAT YOU WILL SOB LIKE A BABY IF YOUR FIRST DANCE AS HUSBAND AND WIFE IS HERE.

I hear your idea was to “hang tule and fabric” over the interior walls.

Yeah. Good luck with that.

Oh, did I not mention the dead animals?

There’s dead animals and an old hunting dog shed/chicken coop that isn’t going anywhere. You planning on covering that up with fabric too?

CUE CHOIR OF FREAKIN’ ANGELS!!!!!!!!

(imagine leaves, horses in that back field, dangling mason jars, etc.)

Anne/Adam was totally disrespectful AT. OUR. WEDDING.

*sob*

I forgave her/him.

You’re welcome.

I love you, baby sis, my weeto seesto. <3 And if you get married by the POLE BARN, forget I ever wrote this post. *muah*

(beego seesto)

Last year, Lidia and I taught a workshop together in Dallas (post here) and during that week, she had Anne come and help set up sessions and watch the kids. But that was pretty much where the business stopped and the three of us forged friendships that week after 3 AM talks, amazing Mexican food, froyo, questionable stores, and our differing opinions on the tastiness of “green juice” (ask Lidia). At one point during the workshop where my son Nicholas was a model, we were in a field in the middle of nowhere and Nicholas told Anne he had to poop. That’s my son, for you, though. I swear the kid never needs to take a dump at home, but only at the worst possible times in the most ridiculous situations. In recent memory it’s been: As a plane was taxiing down the runway for takeoff, right before walking down the aisle in a wedding he was a ring bearer in, during a newborn session for a friend right as I was starting the first pose, the second we got in the car for a long trip, the second EVERY child in the group at the Children’s Museum is done using the bathroom and we’re about to go to the next exhibit, etc. you get the picture.

So here’s Anne, with this strange little boy (who due to her very short haircut at the time and a penchant for wearing thrify fedoras – kept asking her if she was a grandpa) who had to goooooo. Like right there. This is like first-class BTDT mom crap (pun intended) and she was totally cool about it and took him behind some bushes and talked him through his first ever public defecation. I knew then that it was destiny that we would be friends. That and she and Nicholas had this weird crisis-bond thing going on that I wasn’t about to come between.

Anne came up again for the last of the workshops that Lidia and I would teach together, and once again was invaluable work-wise, setting up outside during 107 degree heat and chasing kids while Lidia and I taught. After a medical scare forced Lidia back to Texas before the workshops were over, Anne stepped up and helped me teach that part of the class. This was also the week that my mom’s test results from her surgery came back – ovarian cancer. So as soon as the workshop was over, Anne drove over to my parents’ home with me and we spent a few days there, and she fit in with my family as if she had grown up a part of it all her life

It’s been a long 9 months since August, but we’ve kept in touch every week since then and when I picked her up at the airport on Friday it was like she had never left. MOVE. TO. INDIANAPOLIS. NOW.

We took the kids to Cracker Barrel (we are totally regulars there) and the kids were allowed to pick out a cheap toy from the $5 and under rack each, and some glitter-glow in the dark-fairy tattoos caught both of our eyes. I’m not sure who said, “We should do a sleeve” first but we couldn’t get home fast enough to slap those puppies on.

When Nick came home that evening and his eyes bulged at the sight of the Hello Kitty meets Hell’s Angels meets Lisa Frank sleeve that Anne was rocking, he was all, “That HAD to have taken you like, half an HOUR to do, losers.” (he didn’t say losers, but quite frankly, he didn’t have to).

Half an hour?

Psh.

It took THREE hours. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

And it was beautiful. Horses farting sparkle stars, fighting cobras, inappropriate 8 ball, and enough Hello Kitties to make your eyes bleed rainbows.

Taken on my parents’ land in Brookville, since we had to bring the whole thing full circle and hang out with my 100% healthy mama!

I promise I’ll blog the faux wedding ASAP, I just wanted y’all to get an idea of who Anne is!

**warning #2  - I saved the images in the wrong color space (I guess?) so they are all too greeny and washed out. I sorry*

Way back in August, a man named Mike was desperately trying to get a hold of me. He tried emailing, but Karis is a wonderful firewall and on my request, *sifts* through my mail before it gets to me. I HATE doing it and it sucks, but the reality is that I can’t photograph every vendor’s products, be a part of every giveaway, and travel to every location I’m asked to teach at. So when that approach didn’t work, Mike somehow (we’re still trying to figure out!) tracked down my personal cell phone number and for whatever reason, I answered the unknown caller sometime in the beginning of September.

Mike’s proposal wasn’t like other offers and requests I’d yet had up until then. He wanted me to speak at a conference. Immediately warning bells went off in my head and I, without hesitation, said no. Like NO, no. No way, no.  I am a big fat loudmouth in a personal setting with a handful/maybe a dozen people. But the second I’ve ever been mic’d in the past, my throat has constricted, by face makes this awful grimace, my voice cracks and I turn ten shades of magenta. And I ramble. And stammer.

So my final answer, was a resounding no.

Mike told me to think about it and he’d call me back.

A few days later, he called again, I knew it was him because I had saved the number as “DO NOT ANSWER 4″ —It’s a secret who the DO NOT ANSWER 1,2 and 3 are–but for whatever reason, I answered. I felt bad ignoring him because he seemed like a genuinely nice guy. So I tried another tactic. This time, not only did I say “NO”, but I told him WHY. I thought that if I could convince him how misguided he was in thinking I could do this, and allude to the fact that HE would be embarrassed and/or fired for having me come in the first place, he’d get the hint.

First up, he had mentioned that it was a PPA event. Guess who ISN’T a member of the PPA? This girl. Oh, I get the magazine every month because it’s pretty and kinda makes me feel legit. But I have never had any intentions of joining any kind of “club”. I have a stellar *club* of past workshop/eWorkshop girls that I adore thankyouverymuch. I’m a free spirit, and all those excuses. Mike said it was no big deal.

So I moved on to my next excuse. I’ve never done this before and I could totally suck. Mike laughed and said the convention needed someone “fresh and honest”. I told him that I was pretty sure they didn’t need a bumbling idiot who would probably puke all over the stage, but that just made him laugh again and say, “See? You’ll be great!” Not sure how idiot and puking made me a great candidate for this, but whatever. At this point I was kind of convinced maybe he was TRYING to get fired.

My big guns came out. “I hate stuff like this. I think people take photography WAY too seriously. I honestly just do it to have fun. I have NUH-THING to teach in that sense. These people want direction and pep and I’ll just tell to stop CARING so much. Which is ironic since they are at a convention, so they obviously CARE.” Mike enthusiastically replied, “YES! That’s what they NEED to hear!”

Now I’m kind of convinced that he’s legally insane and the Northern Light PPA people have no idea and he just some bored dude sitting in Florida drunk dialing people and seeing how many idiots he can convince that he’s some PPA convention chairman.

My last ditch effort was to sigh and say, “I’m the laziest photographer in the whole wide world. I hate doing print sales, so literally all I offer are digital negatives plus the session fee all rolled into one for $900.”

FINALLY, he paused. But then said, “That’s okay, if it works for you, it works for me.”

Against my better judgement, that September day, I agreed. Because March seemed awfully far away. And a two hour presentation COULDN’T be that long, right?

Two weeks and 6,000 words into my written speech, I had Googled, “How many words in a 120 minute presentation” about 900 times, hoping every time the number would be lower. It wasn’t.

Every time I practiced, I did the whole thing in under 25 minutes. I tried talking slow. I practiced for Karis (she fell asleep). I was starting to panic.

I started thinking about who I was going to take with me, as one of the deals I worked out with Mike was that I could bring someone. There was absolutely no way I was going to fly to Minnesota and speak for the first time in front of that many people alone. Again, lots of y’all think I’m this crazy confident, butt kicking, self assured woman. Not. The. Case.

But I do know someone who fits that bill. Well, as much as any woman can fit that bill. We all have our own personal crap that gets us down but that’s another blog post.

So I called the one friend I have who I’m scared for anyone who crosses me, the one who when I’ve been attacked in the past has been the loud mouth who says everything I secretly want to say. Basically, my evil twin. You guys know her as Erin Tole of Erin Tole Photography.

Last August, I flew to Portland to photograph her new little one, Veda, so I figured I could call in a favor for some moral support (see also: personal bodyguard who would throat punch anyone who tried to throw a tomato at me) and also use it as a chance to spend some grown up girl bonding time with her when she wasn’t 8 days postpartum. She didn’t even hesitate, and we excitedly texted each other screen shots of our flight plans and brushed up on our Minnesota accents, doontcha knoohw.

Then all of a mother-lovin-sudden. It. Was. March.

My nervousness was visible as anyone who saw me last week would whisper in hushed tones usually reserved for cancer patients, “How are you feeling about next week?” I would then (literally) plug my fingers in my ears like a 5 year old until they got the point that I didn’t want to talk about it.

I miserably sat on the plane to Denver (yeah wrap your mind around THAT for a second…I flew from Indianapolis to Denver to Minneapolis) wedged in the middle seat between two armrest hogging dudes, typing on my laptop like a frigging T-rex (seriously, glue your elbows to your side and mimic typing-that’s what I looked like) I questioned what the heck I was doing. Like really, I hadn’t done public speaking since 11th grade French class when I gave a speech on Dave Matthews’ biography in french. It only went over good because I was a huge Dave fan and I absolutely adore the French language. And because there were only 7 other students. Microphones terrify me, I loathe the sound of my voice, and do I need to remind you what I said earlier about the awful grimace my face makes when I’m really nervous. And I shake.

Natural born public speaker right here.

The second Erin wrapped me in a half hug (Veda was on her hip) and said, “You got this, Rachel”, though…the weekend seemed a little bit more doable.

Veda facetime-ing with her boy, Elmo.

I love this kid. Oh, and any pictures with me in them, I obvs didn’t take. Erin did, and I edited them. Thanks, skank…I guess you’re pretty good with a camera

It still blows my mind sometimes, that I have such great friends. Traveling with a 7 month old isn’t easy, even if Erin makes it look effortless, and it meant the world to me that she was there. Her business is crazy busy, and she has another daughter at home and a husband. I totally get how much of a sacrifice she made to basically just hold my hand while I freaked out all over St. Paul.

I know I’ve said it a million times, Erin, but thanks. Just. Thanks.

An amazing woman, Kath, picked us up at the airport. Making us feel all swanky and legit. She was such an amazing help all weekend, our go-to woman for basically anything we needed during the trip. So Kath, thanks to you too

We got to our hotel RIGHT after the huge St. Patrick’s Day parade in downtown St. Paul. It. Was. Insane. Our room wasn’t ready yet, and we were treated like absolute crap by the woman at the front desk. Like, Kath saw the look on mine and Erin’s faces after traveling all day with a 7 month old who’s jolliness was quickly being replaced with eye rubbing and screeching, and disappeared for five minutes, only to come back triumphantly holding a room key. It wasn’t our room, but the executive director of the entire conference had offered up her suite for us to hang out in until our room was ready. Cue choir of angels.

We both made a beeline for the coffee maker, and Veda happily scooted backwards around the room in her freshly changed diaper. Kid is at the adorable not-crawling-but-furiously-rocking-on-her-knees stage.

A few hours later, we finally made it to that room, and it was more angels singing and we quickly dumped our crap and Erin said, “Oh my GOSH I’m so glad that you’re one of those hotel stayers who literally trashes the room the second you walk in” and I’m all relieved because I was actually trying (and obviously failing) to be cleaner than normal because it irks Nick when I trash hotels.

Did I mention how much I love Erin?

Veda ate (i.e. bit a spoon repeatedly making her mom pretty much have to use the jaws of life every time to get it back)

And we headed out to explore St. Paul, and grab dinner at this A-M-A-Z-I-N-G restaurant called Heartland. We really lucked out on the two places we got dinner, both in food quality and the fact that Veda ended up sleeping through the entire dinners both nights.

Funny thing – I took the top shot before we left for dinner, and Erin took the bottom one without knowing I took the other one later that night!

So then it was time for me to head down to the convention’s meet and greet going on in one of the ball rooms. I was nervous and thought a little bit of Veda giggles would help bolster my confidence. I had no idea what was going to happen once I got there!

I’m literally nervous now, just remembering what that meet and greet was like. It went something like this:

I show up and chit chat with one of the other speakers I had met earlier, Blair Phillips, super nice guy. He doesn’t stay though, and all of a sudden I’m alone and people are looking at me. They probably were totally not really looking at me. I was just really really really really nervous and convinced they all thought I was stupid. Seriously. Not making this up.

So I see one familiar thing in the midst of framing companies, print companies, photographers I had never heard of and print judging…a WHCC booth. Cue more choirs of angels. I make a mad dash and smile at the friendly guy running the booth. He doesn’t even ask me my name, but says he wants ice cream, and asks if it’s all out. I tell him I can get some for him (it’s something to do) and he’s all “that’d be great”. Off I go. I’ve just demoted myself from keynote speaker to ice cream waitress.

I come back and introduce myself. I tell him I’ve been a WHCC client for five years, and love their albums. Again, I’m just happy to kind of know something about one of the booths and that someone is talking to me. He then starts asking about my packages and whatnot and I admit that *actually* I no longer do prints. Yeah. I should have lied. But I’m a really really really really crappy liar.

He actually wasn’t that awful about it and just kind of smiled in the way that someone smiles at a cute, but really stupid puppy. That’s when another photographer walked up. With a lanyard that had lots of flare. It’s kind of like pieces of flare in Office Space. The more you have, the better. And I gathered that you get a pin every convention you go to. So if you have like 62 pieces of flare, that means you know your stuff.

“She does digital negatives, Bob.*” (Not his real name)

And then for the next hour, I was pretty much passed from classical photographer to classical photographer. Each one informing me that I was throwing away money, diluting the industry. I heard, “Don’t you WANT to make money?”  …”Don’t you WANT the photography world to respect your business?”…”Someday you’ll offer prints and *get* it.” (actually, I already did, and I hated it). One person even went so far as to tell me to absolutely not mention anything, anything during my presentation about selling digital negatives. Another was a little nicer and said, “If you feel you need to talk about your digital negative sales, just don’t tell them what you charge for them.” Another told me to cut back my 15 family sessions a year and just double or triple my prices.

It’s like they simply didn’t understand how happy and at peace I am with Rachel Vanoven Photography.

I like my clients. I already have to turn so many people down for sessions. And honestly, I think my prices are totally fair on both sides. The skill and actual work time on my part, and the images and moments I capture for my clients, which I in turn give them all of my digital negatives for them to have forever. Forever ever. And I’m cool with that.

Ten Things I don’t do, but I’m cool with other people doing:

1. Selective coloring. If you get your jollies from converting an entire photo to black and white except for a red, red rose. Rock on with your bad self.

2. Charging $90 for a 5×7.

3. In person sales.

4. Attaching any sort of googly eyed monster to my camera lens.

5. Having 8 different lenses and two camera bodies, a reflector, speed light, and 6 different filters for an outdoor family session

5. Using any sort of muslin backdrop.

6. Using any sort of plastic fake wood backdrop.

7. Leather bound photo albums

8. Any Lucinda font

9. Vignetting

10. Crocheted newborn hats (weird, I know, I just don’t like how they look!)

I could go on. Fact is, in my opinion, (which I realize isn’t considered valid by many since I only have five years under my belt, but this is my blog so neener neener neener)…in my opinion photography isn’t a one trick kind of gig. As much as it makes me scratch my head, there are people who go bonkers for selective coloring. I have been asked exactly four times ever if I could do it. (I said no exactly four times, for the record.) The majority of my clients are not wanting this service. Sure, there’s a market for it. I am not taking business from classical photographers. Sure, maybe about 8 years ago, the first digital photographer who was all, “I’m SO not slapping a black vignette around this” and started shooting more lifestyle is the one to blame. But not me, and not my fellow natural light photographers with no formal training.

Erin put it best when she said, “Does Saks Fifth Avenue get upset at Walmart? If your clientele is interested in that sort of work then you need to a) produce better work and set yourself apart b) market to a new demographic. Whether you are print based or not, there’s a lot of people out there who suck at their jobs or don’t do things the right way. But that doesn’t mean it should impact too much those who go out of their way to set the bar high for the quality of their art and their businesses.”

Speaking of Erin. She wasn’t there during all that cornering going on. Thankfully there were some amazing photographers that I so wish I was better at names at so I could properly thank them. Julie, a photographer, walked around with me looking at all of the photos up for judging and better explained to me exactly what this conference was about. I am so thankful to her, not only for being open minded towards me, but genuinely helping me grasp this side of photography I seriously had no idea still existed. By existed I mean people so hardcore in their belief that *their* photography methods were the best/only way.

Then, I saw an empty chair and thought I’d take the chance to sneak in some sitting time. Fun fact, I have a bad back…like a *really* bad lower back. Probably because I slouch because I hate being tall. But that, again, is another post.

I was just going to grab the chair when someone grabbed me on my shoulder, and I turned around and was greeted by two SMILING and excited faces. But like, they were happy and I just got this vibe that they knew *me* and all I could think of was that I wanted to hug them and cry but I couldn’t do the crying part because then they would be scared and think I was totally crazy.

They introduced themselves, Brianna was 17, a high school student, and Kayla a married mom of two (right? two?) who was 25. They were there just. to. see. me. All the way from South Dakota. Which, actually I haven’t checked to see if it’s far from Minnesota since I’m completely unfamiliar with those states, but I got the feeling it wasn’t like three hours or anything.

I know I didn’t know them before, but it felt like I had. Well, except people I’ve known don’t randomly blurt out, “I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M REALLY TALKING TO YOU” every five minutes But besides that, it felt totally normal. We chatted a bit, but then I realized that Erin was back up in our room waiting for me to bring her ice cream (uh, two hours ago…) so I sadly had to scoot, but we promised to touch base the next morning.

As I walked up to the room with my melty ice cream, all the feelings of happiness from my most recent conversation started to melt as well and I was a wreck by the time I walked through the door. Erin could tell something was up and I think I said something like, “omigoshicantdothis” and “someoneisgoingtoshootmedeadtomorrow”. Erin said something that I can’t type because my mom reads this, and I think at one point threatened to wake Veda up and march downstairs and, um. Not be nice. We laid in the dark eating ice cream and I said everything I wish I would have had the guts to say and Erin said everything she was planning on saying tomorrow.

And now you see why I needed her there.

The next morning I pulled open my laptop and started writing notes. Because stupid me had my presentation “plan of attack” on my computer. Which had my slideshow on it. So I had to handwrite my notes on hotel stationary post it notes. But as I was doing it, I started mentioning that I was just going to skip the price part. Or altogether not even say that I sell digital negatives.

You would have thought I told Erin I was going to stab puppies (I DIDN’T) because she literally flew across the room and was all, “RACHEL DON’T YOU EVEN THINK OF TAKING OUT ANYTHING THAT YOU PUT IN THAT EFFING SPEECH. SCREW THEM. SCREW THEM FOR MAKING YOU FEEL LIKE THIS RIGHT BEFORE YOUR PRESENTATION. ARE YOU SERIOUSLY CHANGING THAT?”

I’m all, “no. please don’t hit me”

But seriously it went something like that and in the end I left everything the same, and off I went to give my presentation.

Remember earlier when I talked about what happened when I spoke in public? If not, here it is again:

“My throat has constricted, by face makes this awful grimace, my voice cracks and I turn ten shades of magenta. And I ramble. And stammer.”

Yeah. That still happened. But only for like ten minutes. I totally screwed up my childhood and how art played a role in it. But that’s okay since no one was there to hear that my mom doodled on napkins (like REALLY good doodles) because I forgot that part. But about 15 minutes in, I was all “This is easy—I got this.” and I tried to look at ALL of the faces I could. And there were a lot of nice faces. That sounds weird, but until you’ve stood in front of that many people (maybe 200?) you don’t realize how relieving it is to see someone smiling and nodding. Or just smiling. Just not frowning. Or God forbid, sleeping.

Creepy giant Lucy from Peanuts freaking the heck outta Veda while I taught about how to get the most out of Facebook.

And in the end? It was amazing. Like afterwards I wish I had at least three hours to spend time with all of the photographers who came up. But like a kid after a Christmas pageant, I found Erin and caught her look and big smile all, “You nailed it, Rach.” And I kinda wanted to cry, and all people kept saying was they loved how honest I was, and if they only knew that a few hours before I was going to change the parts of the program that they were telling me that they needed to hear. I’m just so thankful Erin was there.

And Veda, because she’s a pretty cute distraction, too.

(these tub pictures were ones taken by Erin/edited by me. Yes we love each other enough that she can dangle my 8,000 camera/lens combination over bath water and I can process pictures that she took!)

And then, way way way too soon, it was Monday morning and we were making a mad dash to the airport. Then, way way way way too soon they were boarding.

All in all, it was an amazing experience. And I’m hoping it’s not the last because already I have met so many amazing people, both those who worked/ran/spoke at the conference (Mike Aulie, Nicole Bugnacki, David Grupa, Fabulous Jen, Blair Phillips, Nate from StickyAlbums and many more). People who even if I didn’t fit the mold of what has been the norm, still gave me a chance and encouraged me–probably have no idea how much you helped!

To the woman who found me hyperventilating in the bathroom with paper towels sticking out of my armpits, about to cry, five minutes before I went on. Thank you, for making me laugh, and I think you even said that you would be praying for me. It’s amazing the people who just popped out of nowhere this whole weekend right when I felt completely defeated!

Sorry, this is turning into a Sally Field acceptance speech, but I have to thank Karis for being the person who back in August said I should do this. My mom for setting her alarm to pray for me every ten minutes on Sunday. My dad, Amanda, Courtney, Angie, Kate, Nick, Brandy, and Crystal for texting me the day of with all sorts of encouragement.

Kath for being our unwavering rock in Minnesota <3

And Erin, for the note, the necklace, the indignant rage on my behalf, the crying laughing over dinner and the level 5 conversations about crap and the goodness in both of our lives that have really made us into the women we are today. Thanks for all of it.

Again, so sorry for the thank yous, but I don’t want anyone for one second to think that I just jetted off to St. Paul and was all kicking butt and taking names on my own. Not even close. And the moral of the story? Be yourself. Whether you’re selling digital negatives or a crap ton of prints. Love what you do and own it. If not, hunt down Erin and make her be your friend and she’ll slap some sense into you.

I can distinctly remember the second that I saw him. Cheesy, I know. Something out of a movie, right? Honestly, I can’t remember *anything* in my life as vividly as I remember that moment. He was leaning against the back half wall at Outback, a new employee, wearing a crisp blue Outback shirt (before they went all swanky and now wear all black!) and chatting with another employee. My heart stopped, but 21 year old Rachel had programmed herself to write off men *that* attractive. Not because he looked like a smooth talker, but more because I was so insecure about myself that I just *knew* that guys who looked like him, didn’t look twice at girls who looked like me. I had curves, crazy brown hair and freckles (not to mention post-baby loose skin). He looked more like the kind of guy who could get any girl he wanted. So when my pretty, blonde and distinctly kid-free friend/co-worker came up behind me at that moment and nudged me saying, “Shotgun on the new guy” — it was no big deal. I had no intentions of even trying to go after this hottie.

But something happened, this new dreamy guy actually started trying to start up conversations with me…and lo and behold, he was sincerely *nice*.  We built a friendship at work (again–Rachel here was so not interested in dating) but I knew that I was really starting to like this guy. He then started to show up to a couple of after work get togethers, and I started to fall hard. Then, the other shoe that I just *knew* was going to drop, dropped. He told me that he had a girlfriend, and that they had been together for over two years. He told me point blank that he had no intentions of breaking up with her for me. I’m not sure what he was expecting, but I don’t think it was for me to shrug and say, “Okay! Well I don’t want to break anyone up, and there’s this bartender at work whose been wanting to take me out, so until/unless you’re single, I’m off the market for you.”

A week later, after an incredibly hard breakup, Nick and I officially started dating in July of 2005.

  (Don’t hate me ‘cuz you’re jealous of my Picasa skillz)

Next came the question on how to move forward with Brynn. I had her when I just had turned 20, and then dated her biological dad from the time she was 12 months to 15 months, so I wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed with introducing a new man in her life. She was my everything, so it was impossible to just not have him meet her, and since 50% of my friends at that time were male, it wasn’t a big deal to just add him to the mix. We decided early on that we wouldn’t show signs of affection around her until we knew it was a serious “thing”.

Well, a month after we started dating, Nick told me that he loved me, and for my birthday gave me a date and put in effort that I only read about in romantic drivel. He didn’t tell me where we were going and took me to Sea World! Since I was little, I always wished I could work with marine animals, so again, I couldn’t believe I was actually dating this man!

 Obligatory “Sit on Shamu” awkwardness.

Nick’s mom told me once that while all other little boys were dreaming of becoming football players or police officers, her son wanted to be a dad. And as he got older, he was always the guy at family get togethers who would be covered in kids hanging on his arms and out back playing tag. That translated to a truly beautiful thing to see with Brynn…the beginnings of a daddy in her life. I can’t tell you what it felt to simply go for a walk to the park and have his strong arms carrying my chunky monkey 2 year old. It was the simple moments like that, when I began allowing myself to believe that he might actually be the one.

By the beginning of November we had already went ring shopping. A few weeks later, on the first night of the Nights of Lights in St. Augustine, Nick literally pulled me through shrubbery to get to the middle of a courtyard and dropped to one knee. Neither of us has a clue what he said, or promised or asked. I just know I’ve never been more excited about anything as I was looking down into his hopeful face, and those dimples, and what was going to be.

A whirlwind 4 months later, he had taken a job with a new company in Indiana, and flew down for our morning wedding in Orange Park, Florida.

 We were happy.

We were young.

We were essentially strangers.

It was hard.

There were good times…

Nick’s happy dance in our first home, an apartment in Lafayette, Indiana. Note we had no blanket for our bed, just two throws we had taken from our parents’ homes!

…but there were bad times.

Our first *week* home from the wedding, we both had a, “What have we done?!” moment. We were arguing about something stupid. The way all newlyweds argue. I was leaving cabinet doors open in the kitchen. He was playing too many video games. But it was bad. Neither of us had any friends or family nearby in Indiana, we had a two year old to parent, he had never BEEN a parent and I had been doing it on my own for 2 years, PLUS he was working a job that wasn’t made for him.

Sounds like a good time to get pregnant, right?

Welcome to the world, Nicholas Patrick! Born almost exactly one year after we got married. We waited a whole whopping three months. Yeah.

We ate Ramen Noodles.

Nick sold his car to buy groceries.

We borrowed when we were forced to, but always repaid as soon as we could.

I thought about leaving many times.

I’m sure Nick did too.

I’m glad we stayed, even when that 500 square foot apartment felt like our very own personal jail cell. And we couldn’t get away from each other because we literally couldn’t afford to waste gas just to drive away from an argument.

Can I tell you how thankful I am for those years? We learned to fight fair, because at first we didn’t. We learned not to cut each other down ever, but especially not in front of other people–even as jokes. We learned that just because you have a kid or two, you don’t let time with each other take a backseat to your children. And most importantly, we learned how crazy in love we were…to take that insane hand of cards we were dealt and still surface at the end of it all and want nothing more than to grow old together.

We moved to Indianapolis in 2007, a promotion for Nick, a new house with an actual yard, a chubby baby boy…a fresh start.

It has been a wild seven years since I stood up in front of our family and friends that warm February day…my mouth shaking from smiling..I was so nervous. I still have to pinch myself, Nick is more than I ever imagined a husband could be.

I just love him <3

Happy Anniversary, babe. I’m still the luckiest woman in the world.

Just some randoms of us from 2007-2012

In this house…

we do real

we do mistakes

we do I’m sorry

we do fun

we do hugs

we do second chances

we do happy

we do forgiveness

we do really loud

we do family

we do love

I *love* it…we are hopefully moving into our new home within a couple of months and that is getting slapped up on a wall ASAP

I dug up old pictures today, ones that I want to put in an album with the simple title, “we do fun.” on the cover. Pictures for me to flip through when I start beating myself up for not being the parent I feel like I need to be. I’m not immune to comparing myself to moms who seem to have it all together. I may have my priorities in line in terms of balancing work and family, but sometimes I wonder if the time I spend with them is *enriching* enough. Do we do enough puzzles? Crafts? Are we teaching them to be too rowdy and wild? I think a lot of parents have this worry. With Pinterest and bloggers documenting every piece of glitter and every can of chalkboard paint used for their kids to scribble on their very own wall, I get to feeling deflated.

But then I see how confident they are becoming as they grow (a certain little blonde has enough confidence/attitude for the whole Vanoven crew) and I *know* we’re doing something right

 In our house….

We realize when a baby jumps in the tub in footie pajams, you can’t get mad.

We know that there’s only so long that your growing girl will let you take sudsy silly pictures of her in the bathtub, lookin’ a hot mess!

We have no-hands-allowed-spaghetti-eating-contests…

…that carry on to breakfast the next morning

The fun extends to baby sisters/aunts who do this:

Our kids do just about anything to make us laugh…

the art of sprinkler-butt is passed down from kid to kid

boys can rock pink nail polish if they can be coerced by big sisters

Josie knows that she never has to be “normal”

Children who are warned repeatedly to stop horsing around on the edge of public fountains will only be helped out after everyone has a good laugh and pictures are taken. Said children then get to frolic around downtown Indianapolis in a sopping wet dress

road trip pit stops are always perfect photo opportunities!

(sidenote: I’m shocked my arm pits are shaved)

If cousin Logan wants to wear goggles that make him look like Sloth from the Goonies while we go for a walk in the woods, he can.

We allow sisterly boob grabs in the name of recreating art.

If we go on a walk looking for deer and can’t find any, someone will pretend to be a deer for us.

Little ones are launched over water

When dripping water looks like pee…we make sure that moment is captured forever

We sneak in kisses whenever possible

Bubbles rule.

Parents hardly ever get to “just lay out” at the beach…

normal smiles are boring

Grandmas are able to lay the smack down on their fully grown sons!

Children can be seen AND heard

Grandpas can make clown noses out of roma tomatoes and cheesy smiles are okay too

Daddies have mad ups

Jumping off the picnic table is okay

Kids sneak coffee

adults aren’t the only ones that can hail taxis!

Lip Smacker addictions are fed

Proper nature walks involve sword fights and beaver hunting

Little girls who fake cry like this will have their picture taken and shown to them to make them see how ridiculous they look

Grown men can comfortably show off their interpretive dance skills without risk of ridicule

Pops break Nana’s “no rough housing” rule….frequently

Spit bubbles have a proper time and place

The kids know that even if they grow up to be Death Eaters, we’ll still love ‘em

and lastly, golfing is always best done in your underwear

<3

Many of you know that I was a single mom. The mom part was an amazing time of growth for me. As soon as Brynn was placed at my breast seconds after her birth, a switch was flipped. The 9 months before that moment, though, were some of the darkest of my life. In high school, our show choir had sang songs from Les Miserables and Fantine’s solo, “I Dreamed and Dream” had been one of the songs that I had a small solo part in and the words of the song stuck with me. When I was 17 and a carefree high school student, Fantine’s grief was alien to me. I had a few non-serious boyfriends, I was active with my church’s youth group and busy with Drama Club and silly 17 year old shenanigans.

Two years later, after a downward spiral of bad choices and disrespecting myself and my body time and time again, I found myself at home, friendless, pregnant and suddenly Fantine’s grief became something I felt all to well in my soul. Even now, nearly 10 years after seeing those two pink lines, listening to that song takes me right back. Anne Hathaway’s gut wrenching rendition of it captures how *I* felt those dark months.

There was a time when love was blind
And the world was a song
And the song was exciting
There was a time
Then it all went wrong

Like so many young girls out there, I had a fairy tale idea of romance and marriage. My own parents wed extremely young (20 and 21) and I grew up in a loving, Christian home. My mom was up to greet us every morning with breakfast, was home after school to read books in the hammock and cooked dinner every night except Sundays. Growing up, being a mom was all that I wanted. And of course you needed Prince Charming (like my dad) to marry and have that white picket fence with.

Where it “all went wrong” for me was Jr. High. I was teased mercilessly by boys and my spirit was crushed. I stopped believing I was pretty. I stopped believing I was worthy to be treated good by boys/men in general and this lasted through college.

My freshman and sophomore years of college were crazy. And fake. Looking back at the pictures truly gives me no joy. As I was a shell of myself. Plastering on a smile when every second I was alone was spent holding my arms and shaking with sobs trying to hold myself together. Spending time around my parents as I felt like I was letting them down, and if they only knew how my weekends were spent, they wouldn’t want anything to do with me. Of course, this was a lie meant to keep me in the dark and only sent me spiraling faster down a path that eventually I wasn’t able to find my way out of.

But the tigers come at night
With their voices soft as thunder
As they tear your hope apart
And they turn your dream to shame

Everything was turned upside down when I came down with shingles in February of 2003. The doctors were baffled that a seemingly healthy 19 year old woman would break out in such a way that typically only comes from a weakened immune system. Elderly people, AIDS patients, pregnant women, etc. I obviously wasn’t 80 years old, so they ordered a blood test to get to the bottom of it.

I was watching Jennifer Lopez’s movie “Enough” when the phone rang with the test results.

“I’ve got good news and bad news”

…

“The good news is, you don’t have any immunity lowering illnesses.”

…

oh, God.

oh, God.

“Miss Murphy? You’re pregnant.”

…

“Congratulations.”

I whispered thank you and hung up the phone. Standing dumbfounded in my parents’ basement. My hand went to my abdomen in disbelief. This happened to other people. Not me. How do I tell my parents? Oh, Lord…how do I look my dad in the eyes? Who will want to marry me? Do I want to abort this baby? …..I’ve always been such a Pro-Life advocate, but oh my GOSH this is ME that’s pregnant. Is the heart beating? Is it a boy? A girl? What will he or she look like? Oh, God I’m PREGNANT. I could miscarry. Please let me miscarry. Don’t make me decide, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. I can’t abort this baby. Can I raise this baby? I want to be a mom—but not now.

 ”Rachel? Who was on the phone?”

I was shaking and told my mom. She just said, “Oh, Rachel” and held me and we cried. As a parent now, I cannot imagine how her heart was breaking in that moment.

As they tear your hope apart

Everything my parents hoped I would turn out to be. The Scarlet Letter they knew would be coming soon in the shape of a bulging tummy and a ringless finger on their teenage daughter.

He slept a summer by my side
He filled my days with endless wonder
He took my childhood in his stride
But he was gone when autumn came

I won’t talk much about Brynn’s biological dad, just that he was young, and in hindsight, I see that he was just as scared as I was. And today he does play a small (but important) role in her life. But the result of our conversation when I told him about the pregnancy was him deciding to wipe me from his life and keep me and his future baby a secret from everyone around him. I was devastated.

And still I dream he’ll come to me
That we’ll live the years together

I waited 9 long months for a phone call. I watched sappy movies that involved single moms getting their happily ever afters. I watched expectant moms and dads come into doctor appointments with huge smiles and clutched hands and designer maternity clothes. I bought a fake engagement ring to make me feel like I was “worthy” to go to appointments but it made my finger turn green, exposing my sham and only making me feel worse.

But I kept hoping.

But there are dreams that cannot be
And there are storms we cannot weather

The only way I survived those 9 months was my mom. All those months where I kept my double life a secret because I was scared of her reaction were for nothing as she was completely forgiving and accepting of me, flaws and all. I *did* weather that storm in my life, but all I did was float on a rescue raft as she pulled me through the raging sea that was the life of a pregnant teen.

I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I’m living
So different now from what it seemed
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed

I was 9 months pregnant. Working at a Wal-Mart in north west Indiana. I had no friends. I had gained nearly 80 pounds. I was on medicaid. I was taking college classes at a local college, surrounded  by carefree young adults meeting up for drinks and planning road trips. I remember playing this song and every time Fantine sings “I had a dream my life would be, so different from this hell I’m living”–I would just lose it.

We’ve all been there. At least most of us have been. Life seldom ends up like our 7 year old selves imagine it would be.

You wouldn’t believe how many messages I get a week from single moms, military wives, struggling college students, etc. who are reaching out and looking for encouragement. I wish I could personally help each and every person who contacts me. I have such a heart for struggling moms, teens who maybe aren’t from the right side of the tracks and are trying to start up a photography business with limited funds. I feel and *get* each and every one of you–the pain that you have because you feel like there is no *up* from where your at.

I can tell you, it’s one day at a time. One foot in front of the other.

Instead of focusing on my pain, I choose to remember that moment when I first saw Brynn’s sweet face, and a different Les Mis song comes to mind…

I don’t think that God has put me on this earth just to take pretty pictures. Every day, I’m feeling a nudge to share this story of mine. For now, it will be on my blog, in bits and pieces. I hope so bad that my words come as a comfort to anyone out there who feels alone. I hope so bad that some day, my story can be used on a bigger scale as a tool to help other young women who feel they don’t have worth. I truly feel at peace with my past, and all the pain that I went through has only made me a stronger person today–I am constantly grateful for the blessings that have rained down on me. But there has to be a reason. Like I said, while I love photography…every day I’m feeling a tug on my heart to take another path. One that can coexist with my teaching newborn photography and shooting client work, for now. Thank you for letting me open up my heart on this blog.

Luckily, we’re raising a pretty confident little guy and rocking his big sister’s hot pink flowered, hand-me-down pants didn’t even have him batting an eye!

They were going to make a snow fort to have an epic snowball fight behind…it never amounted to much, but I’ll blog the legit snowball fight that went down at my parents’ house a few days after this, later this week!

I have a picture from two years ago when Joss was around 8 or 9 months old, and she just HATED the snow, the cold, and pretty much anything that didn’t involve sitting inside, sucking her thumb and snuggling her blanket. I’m happy that this year she’s actually the craziest when it comes to snow out of all of them! Sister will have packed snow inside her gloves and frozen snot dripping down her face and she will refuse to come in!

Love this handsome little man.

There is still a time and a place to suck your thumb while clutching your beloved “Gackie Boo” blanket in the Vanoven home, though

Now about that hot chocolate recipe!!!

get 4 1/2 cups  water boiling in a pot on the stove

Add-

1/2c sugar and 1 TBSP cocoa (pre mixed together)

and

1.5 cans evaporated milk

1/2 TBSP vanilla

reduce heat to simmer

**if you end up letting it sit on the stove for a while, make sure to have a spoon to skim the top off every now and then**

 enjoy.

Soaking in the last two full days of my kids’ break from school!

We woke up the first day with no real plans, except Chicago pizza for lunch and knowing that we were catching a train home around 6 pm. So Brynn tore into her new American Girl toys while I checked out the Room Service menu, intent on getting some fruit after a day of vacation food snacking had me feeling queasy!

Brynn was so tickled when a tray of berries was brought in for us to share, the server was SO nice when he saw a giddy 9 year old who had never stayed in such a fancy hotel/ordered room service before and how she was smiling ear to ear!

Shortly after the berries were devoured, we heard another knock at the door, and lo and behold the server was back with a gleaming track stacked with rolls, scones and croissants, tiny jam jars, cold milk and a french press of coffee for us adults! He said to Brynn, “I didn’t realize there was a little princess staying in our hotel this morning! Thank you, for choosing our hotel!”

My heart was SO happy. Her face…it’s hard to sit here and describe it, without my eyes welling up. That man was an angel…representing all that is good in this world. How absolute strangers can make such a tiny tiny gesture without knowing just how magical their action is for someone else. He must have known how touched I was, when he caught my eye and I mouthed thank you. I of course tipped him gratefully, but I sure hope someone blesses the pants off of him. Thank you, Lord for people like him in this world.

From then on out, the mood was nothing but fun! A little Gangnam Style, anyone?

Then some dreaming…

We decided to grab a cab and head to the Navy Pier

I *love* this shot of Brynn.

The Navy Pier had their Winter Wonderfest going on–thank you to all of the Facebook fans who suggested we check it out!

It. Was. Awesome.

 Brynn’s grand finale of her Chicago magic trip was Build-A-Bear workshop Thank you to Nana and Pop for buying her little Bunsies outfit!

Everyone has their favorite Chicago pizza joint…mine is Bella Bacino’s on Wacker! I’ve been coming here since before Brynn was born!

And I couldn’t blog Chicago without including this guy

 I made sure to take as much time off during this holiday season, since in years past I worked right up to Christmas Eve…I was determined to remember that this season, the kids would do things that would be set in their memories, and maybe even be the start of traditions for THEM to pass on!

 We actually will be decorating Christmas cookies today, so few words and lots of pictures for this post!

After we finished making the decorations, it was raining, so we decided to decorate the tree on the next day!

I bought Josie and Cora these matching ponchos on our Chicago trip! (Part 2 coming soon!)–fun bright colors for a rainy, dreary day!

Later, it was an intense game of hide-and-seek at Karis’ house!

And then a big breakfast in the morning!

And then back to Nana and Pop’s house to decorate the tree!

It was SIXTY-TWO degrees out when we were doing this! Just one week later it was 14 degrees and we had two inches of snow!

Merry Christmas <3

Like I said the other day, I’m not organized (or brave) enough to actually make winners—so instead, everyone gets on the Christmas Card superlative list!

Best placed apostrophe,

Creepiest Nutcrackers,

& Most camouflaged kitty

sends THREE awards to KAS Images

Holy-freaking-Christmas-Unicorn-of-Doom

&

See through ghost kitty

makes Chesney Photography the winner of scariest card award!

KlAsSiEsT uSe Of A cAr AiR fReShEnEr

&

biggest fire/burn hazard goes to Angie Knutson Photography!

Most realistic inserted kitty

(almost took off points for being too darn cute still!!!!)

from The Boutique Photography

Most likely to instill terrifying, mind numbing nightmares of glowing red devil children and dangling cats

by the lovely Life Captured

Holy-Random-That’s-A-Monkey-Playing-A-Guitar

&

Are those hat’s real or photoshopped?

awards to Billie Bush Photography

Most-uh-natural blue eyes,

best place of unrealistic bokeh,

& Holy crap is that a candle in his clenched fist?

awards go to Falynn Dial Photography

HUGE award for using Grumpy Cat!!!

ANOTHER gold star for a farting unicorn!!!

and I’ll stop geeking with the shameful dog….

My mind is numb with the awesomeness oozing from this entry by Heather Richey Photography

Hungriest dog/oblivious baby that  he’s about to be eaten award goes to Keri Hamilton Photography!

One that makes my eyes bleed the most

&

Most classic “Baby Hates Santa” shot!

by Laura Thornhill Photography

BEST skin tone, by far by Creative Custom Collages by Jesica

LOLOLOL at the pissed of cat! I laugh everytime I look at him!

Whew, but the award for this shot goes for best selective coloring! Because every parent wants their child to look like a vampire!

by Harlow Moon Photography

Best out-of-the-box thinkers/non-photoshop card goes to

BGB Photo & Design

WOOT! Big bonus points for sneaking an Elf on the Shelf in this one!

by SLJ Photography

Biggest mash up of craziness…not sure WHAT is going on here…the kid is like, part cartoon, part real, the baby’s first Christmas stockings…the CGI rat coming out of his pants….

Definitely the trippiest!!!!

by Hala Eliya Photography

Um…..are those rubber duckies?!?! LOL

I’m losing my mind midway through this blog post…rubber duckies?!?!?!

I say they win for most random PS brush utilized!

by Bluetree Photography

Oh you FANCY, with your bedazzled hats and upside down Christmas trees!?

Klassiest award goes to DNA Photography!

Appears to be the most legit work done! Gold stars all around for attention to detail!!!

by Jennifer Burden Photography

Most garish awesome actions used!

And Beluga whales?!?!?! Seriously, I have the best/funniest group of photographers participating in this!! LOL…who even thinks up Beluga whales?!?!

by Photography by Amber Lee

Best use of a WHITE VIGNETTE!

I especially love how it’s flat on one side and rounded on the other! Brilliant!

by Cat Howell

Too much amazingness going on award

&

Best side drama between kittehs award

goes to ReFOCUSed Photography

THE FARTING UNICORN MAKES ANOTHER APPEARANCE!!!!

Best use of ninja kitties looking like they are saving children from snowballs!

by Polka Dot Umbrella Photography

Most “cringe” factor because I can tell the original shot was AMAZING before it was barfed on by Santa Claus!!

By Danielle Nicole White (I’m sorry, I couldn’t find if you had a photography page!)

Best stalking kitty, but sorry Crystal, you LOOOOOOOOOSE points for being incapable of misusing your own actions!

by Pure Actions for Photographers

Again, SO MUCH AWESOME!

Bonus points for:

regal unicorn

country Christmas snowman

creepiest cats ever

and flamboyant Christmas tree!!

by Alysia Richter Photography

FATTEST kitteh award,

best cartoonized children,

&

most hateful doggy!

by Britny Sirotak Photography

Most likely to give me a seizure by looking at it!

Best Diffuse Glow filter

and craziest selective coloring….ever.

by MVL Photography

BEST KITTY PLACEMENT!

scariest selective coloring combined with eye sharpening!

by ViGee Photography

Best snow

&

Cheek blushing!!!

by Amanda Cox

Wow. That was epic.

I apologize to any new fans/potential client that I’m scaring away with this blog

Favorite part? Going to all of the photographers who participated pages and seeing how MAD talented you all are to produce such, uh….lovely images!!

THANKS for participating, guys!