daughters

Inside Out

Posted on by Lauren

Was I the only one with tears streaming down my face while watching Inside Out 2 in the theater this morning?

I’m not sure but sitting next to my four daughters, this movie really hit home- particularly in reference to our 12 year-old. 

Those who know me personally know how attentive I’ve always been of our daughters’ feelings. As a child who often felt misunderstood, I know how important it is for my girls’ feelings to be validated, seen and explored, instead of ignored. 

Spoiler alert: the climax of the movie occurs when the emotion Joy realizes that she can no longer simply dismiss undesirable memories and power forward through main character Riley’s puberty ignorant of the arrival of new emotions anxiety, embarrassment, ennui and envy. The lesson that struck deep in my heart was that there was no turning back to the way things were before. Instead, Joy recognizes her need to include the new emotions in order for Riley to feel secure with her true self. It’s a hard pill to swallow- that we can’t just keep acting like everything is fine and BE fine. That when we try to fight anxiety with denial, it only grows. We must learn to live with, around and through it. 

Watching my child struggle with growing up has broken my heart into tiny little pieces. I want to fix it for her; the embarrassment the rejection, the shame she feels. And like Joy, I can’t. I watch helplessly as she struggles, knowing that there’s no other way than through. 

And yet, the overwhelming emotion I left that theater with was pure and true gratitude. As hard and ugly as witnessing Aurora’s journey to adulthood is, it’s also such an incredible privilege. I have been given a gift- this opportunity to empower and encourage my child. I walked away with more empathy than ever for my daughter and the desire to hug her as long as she would allow. Forever and ever. Inside out. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Count On

Posted on by Lauren

“If there’s one thing we can always count on,”  I explain to my daughter, “it’s change.”

No matter how much we wish we could freeze time or return to the way things were before, change is inevitable.  

We may not be able to force the way things change, but we are able to control how we respond to it.  

Entering her first year of middle school, my eldest daughter is enduring a lot of change that frankly, she’s not a huge fan of.  

Riding the school bus for the first time, switching classes that are much larger than elementary and the loss of the familiarity of her previous school.  

Change is hard, for better or worse.  

In these beginning moments of great change, her emotions are running hot and cold. The smallest of problems are monumental.  It reminds me of a conversation I had with her when she was just four years old. 

I had just given birth to our third daughter, resulting in me leaving my two and four year old to play on their own while I nursed their baby sister to sleep.  

They would barge in with battles over a toy or to ask if they could have some pretzels, waking the baby from her near slumber.  


It was time for an intervention. 

I sat them both down and discussed the difference between “Big Problems” and “Little Problems”. I actually recorded it so that I could share it with my friends and I’m so glad I did because there’s a precious moment when the lightbulb goes off in my four year-old’s head.  She got it.  

Big problems are when you are bleeding, someone is at the door or there’s a bonafide emergency. Little problems are snack requests or arguments over toys. 

The same still holds true. Sometimes in moments of stress and vulnerability, even the smallest problems seem overwhelming. But if we take a moment to stop and really think, we realize they aren’t so life-threatening after all. 

Recognizing the difference is the first step.  

Adapting is the next. 

Forgotten materials and missed assignments are challenging, but fixable. 

Changing schools is hard but not insurmountable.  

The sooner we anticipate and roll with change, the less anxious we will feel. 

“There’s another thing you can count on.”I whisper to her as I tuck her into bed.

“Me.”  

Camille Vaughan Photography

Traverse

Posted on by Lauren

It happened gradually, so quickly.  

She changed over time, overnight.  

I thought I was prepared, but never saw it coming. 

My bedside table is stacked with parenting books, I follow counselors on social media and I listen to podcasts.

But it wasn’t until a counselor with five decades of experience said the word “stop” that I finally listened. 

Melissa Trevathan of the Raising Boys and Girls podcast often speaks “words of wisdom” in the last two-to-four minutes of each episode and in the one titled “Building Intentionality and Thoughtfulness as a Family” she explained how parenting is much like skiing. 

Sometimes you are traveling along just fine but then you hit obstacles. Our instinct is to keep going- to keep trying to figure it out as we go.  Her years of wisdom has taught her to instead, stop and reevaluate.  To form a new plan of how to tackle the difficult course ahead.  

Children, much like trails, change over time and have different needs.  Toddlers are not babies, middle schoolers are no longer elementary age and so on.  

And if we seek to parent with intentionality with the end in mind, then we must ask ourselves why did we even agree to start?

Why did we say “yes” to this parenting trail?

And how are we helping our children along the way to grow into the joyful, successful adults we all hope them to become?

As our children grow, so do we. 

When I finally took a moment to “stop” and really listen to my tween daughter’s frustrations, I saw her as another young human instead of the child I was in charge of raising. 

In my mind’s eye, I moved from standing in front of her, explaining what she needed to do and stood beside her, arms linked. 

“We’re in this together.”  “I trust you.”  “You are amazing.”  

Instead of focusing on her missteps, I more audibly recognize her accomplishments.

I am actively giving her what all of us crave: acknowledgement for how far she has come and my belief in her ability to succeed.  

My daughter became a tween and although I tip my hat to those who have journeyed before me, I refuse to accept the warnings that “I’m in for it”.  

Instead, I stop.  I reevaluate my course. 

And my daughters and I traverse this mountain together.  

Barbie

Posted on by Lauren

I just experienced the Barbie movie.

And I’m shook. 

It moved me to tears.  

This movie was masterfully made. 

Funny, thought-provoking and meaningful. 

The set design was epic. 

The cast, impeccable. 

The humanity- relatable. 

 A mother and her “tween” daughter at odds who ultimately work together to help Barbie and her land find their purpose. 

America Ferrera’s speech to “wake up” the barbies: “I’m just so tired of watching myself, and every single other woman, tie herself into knots so that people will like us.”

Me too, Barbie. 

Me too.  

Lucky

Posted on by Lauren

I braced myself. 

Typically, it’s “You’ve got your hands full!”  Or “Wait until they are teenagers!” And “I hope your husband has a shotgun!”

But instead, this stranger at my door remarked, without hesitation, “You’re so lucky.”

And my heart smiled.  

The girls, never far from me, peeking from behind my legs smiled, too as I replied, “I really am.  I hit the jackpot!”

To be valued, to be appreciated, to be wanted- aren’t these all things that make us feel safe and joyful?

Getting my girls to the ages of 4, 6, 8 and 10 has been a rocky road.  In the back of my mind, I always held these particular ages up as the light to the end of my endless tunnel.  

And we made it!  We are here!  We are cruising and absolutely cherishing our baby girls.  

For the first time, I finally feel what mothers have been telling me for a decade now.  That it goes so fast.  That I’ll miss this time, one day.  Before, another baby always followed so I never felt like I had the chance to miss any phase. 

Now, I look at my eldest and I see her changing.  I want to bottle her up and cherish this moment in time.  But there she grows.  I find myself equal parts nostalgic and eager to continue to witness who she is becoming.  To know her. 

I’m no fool.  I realize the teenage years, especially with a house-full of girls (sharing one hallway bathroom with one sink!) is going to have its share of drama.  It already does.  

But I am actively choosing to focus on the light.  To focus on the blessing of their existence.  To feel lucky.  

Camille Vaughan Photography

Witness

Posted on by Lauren

Not for you.

Not in place of you. 

With you. 

My eldest is entering her tween years and as much as I want to save her from the harrows that lie ahead, 

I recognize,

It’s her journey

I’ve already lived mine.  

I wish I could change the hands of some times, 

But they’ve led me to this moment, right now. 

The time I let go and witness. 

Not for me. 

Not in place of me.

With me.

Us. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Feet First

Posted on by Lauren

Life in our home has been extremely stressful, lately. 

And that’s saying a lot, considering the last four years with our youngest’s health issues.

When our Big Three returned to public school in January, we knew there would be a transition.

But I don’t think anyone could have fully prepared us for: 

The sickness: after living in a bubble for two years, this was inevitable but Lord, it has been relentless. 

The overwhelm:  “7 hours?!” They lament.  They are tired by day’s end and dreading the next. 

The pressure: to perform, to make friends, to survive. 

And yet, here we are.  Just beyond the Ides of March.  We are halfway there and I know we are going to make it after-all.  

These have been trying months. 

As much as I thought I would have “free time”, I have spent the last 2 months playing catch-up to all that I neglected while they were home the last two years.  

My husband and I look at each other and realize, 

There’s so much more to come.  

So, we hold hands. 

And jump in, 

Feet first. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Here I am

Posted on by Lauren

“I’ll always love you but some days, I don’t like you.”  

I remember my mother saying this to me, as a child.  

It has never resonated with me more.

It sounds harsh, but as a parent myself now, I understand what she meant. 

One of our daughters has been having a really tough time lately and I’m going to be honest; spending time with her feels like work.

She’s struggling and her way of coping is to act out. 

This week my mom said, “They need the most love when they are the most unlovable.”

Ugh.  The ugly truth. 

She knows this from her experience of parenting me.

I was NOT an easy child.  Strong-willed, relentless, exhausting. 

But she kept on loving me.

Despite my outbursts and her exasperation, she held. 

I pushed, she stayed.

And here I am.

Exhausted and exasperated with my daughter. 

But I stay. 

I love. 

I hold. 

Like her behavior or not, here I am.

Camille Vaughan Photography

Let’s Go!

Posted on by Lauren

One year ago, in the face of a dooming pandemic, I made the difficult decision to homeschool.

I worried.

Oh, I worried. 

I worried about FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out).  I worried about them becoming hermits, afraid of unfamiliar shadows.  I worried about them being taught by their mom, because as a former teacher myself, I know the power of a teacher’s ability to reach students in a different way than other teachers, parents or friends and I wanted that for them.

In all honesty, I still want to be that for other students.

I worried about them being left behind, especially as they witnessed their friends still attend our beloved, local school.  

Ultimately, I went with my gut and we had an incredible year. 

Spring arrived and with it, the hope of the pandemic’s near-end. 

I started to prepare the girls for their return to school in the Fall, casually mentioning how cool it would be to wave to their friends in the hallway on their way to P.E., Music or Art class.  Did they know the Fall Festival was already booked for this year?  Were they looking forward to the Fun Run?

But upon Summer’s dawn, doubt settled in. 

A vaccine, that I had traveled to another state to get just so I could get it as soon as possible, was available and yet, less than half the country had opted to receive it.  The country was split- my body, my choice/ our country, our responsibility.  

Now, variants are on the rise and social distancing measures, including masks are still required at school.  

Holding a Masters in Elementary Education, I am in a unique situation.  

My husband has worked from home since the pandemic began and I am able to stay home to teach with hired help to occupy the girls not currently in lesson.  

Moreover, apparently I made homeschooling too fun.  All three big girls have begged to continue; and while part of me felt that this was fear-based on having been away for a year, I couldn’t bring myself to convince them that their school could provide a better learning environment than what we had going on right in the Carawan Classroom.  

My *entire* experience as a parent has been blessed with the wisdom of my elders: Don’t blink. Cherish these days.  It goes by SO fast.  

Combine the pandemic, the pressure from my children, the wisdom of my elders and my innate joy in continuing to teach my daughters, and here we are.

That time we homeschooled (X2). 

2021-2022.  

Let’s Go! 

Camille Vaughan Photography