"You the teacher, I the stupid"

^This gem was brought to you by my oh so intelligent, accidentally hilarious three year old.

Two weeks ago as I was pulling supplies in for our "class" I said
"Lily, we're starting school next week"
"OH. MY. GOSH!! MY SCHOOL?!"
"Yes baby, I'll be your teacher and you'll be my student."
"OooOOOooh, you the teacher, I the stupid!"

I should have just returned everything I bought from Teacher's Tools and Mardell's right then and there, but, I soldiered on ;]

This year we are kind of just seeing how Lily learns. We're using a little bit of Charolette Mason, Montessori (go read this blog!), and a little bit of traditional education (as that's what I went to school for). Have I gone a little bit overboard since she's only three? ....maybe. BUT, I am only giving her what she is ready for!

Every morning she helps me prepare breakfast (including some knife skills, setting the table, serving her & her sister's breakfast). Then she cleans up breakfast and we get ready for the day's lesson.
Eamon and I came up with an easy curriculum plan and have activities planned out for each day. Lesson's are about 20 mins long, then we continue to use the rest of the day to intentionally teach her as we cook and clean.

We recently got a cool front in and it was actually 75 degrees this morning. A whole 30 degrees cooler than some afternoons have been here recently. YIKES.
Here's a peek at what school looks like around here :]

 (just a little proof that I actually put SOMETHING up in my room...)

A Glass Can Only Spill What it Contains

Right after I was saved, this was my favorite song. I'd listen to it over and over and over again, pretending to understand every word.

A cat came drifting onto my porch from the outside cold
And with eyes closed, drinking warm milk from my bowl
Thought,
"Nobody hears me! Nobody hears me!
As I crept in so soft
And nobody sees me! Nobody sees me!"
As I watched six steps off

Like peacocks wandering the walkways of the zoo
Who have twice the autonomy the giraffes and the tigers do
Saying,
"No one can stop me! No one can stop me!
No one clips my claws.
Now everyone watch me! Everyone watch me
scale these outside walls!"

Oh you, pious and profane
Put away your praise and blame
Said, "A glass can only spill what it contains"
To the perpetually plain, the incurably inane
A glass can only spill what it contains

What new mystery is this?
What blessed backwardness?
The Immeasurable One is held and does not resist!
Struck by wicked words and foolish fists of senseless men
The Almighty One does not defend

I was halfway listening to what she thinks she knows
We're like children dressing in our parents' clothes
Saying,
"Nobody knows me. Nobody knows me.
No one knows my name.
Nobody knows me. Nobody knows me.
No, nobody knows me."

I half-heartedly explained
But gave up peacefully ashamed
A glass can only spill what it contains
We went to Portugal and Spain
And in her mind the entire time it rained
A glass can only spill what it contains

What new mystery is this?
In overflowing emptiness
The Invisible is seen among the shadows and the mist
Before my doubting eyes the Infinite appears in time
The Unquestionable is questioned but makes no reply

What new mystery is this?
What new mystery is this?
What new mystery is this?
What new mystery is this?
What new mystery is this?
"My Rabbi!"
My lips betray with a kiss
What new mystery is this?

A few years later, as revalation has struck, my heart is hurt, I put it on repeat, for old time's sake.

I went to a worship service for women last night, trying to shut my brain up long enough to actually listen to what God had to say.
We took a "heart inventory" as one of our exercises of things that drained our hearts (things that put us in spiritual traps) and things that fill us up.
Things that fill me up are:
A happy husband, newborn baby lips, good food, sex, golden light, that color purple that streaks down green stems on flowers, girly giggles, creative movies, the list goes on.
That one wasn't very hard (and praise Jesus for that, there have been times where it has been!) but then the next list, the list describing what drains us, where are sin lies, where we are apart from God, it was easy to write, but hard to come to terms with:
I'm harsh to overcompensate so I won't be walked all over.
I have to have control over situations- if I don't, who will?!
When I'm not in control, I have anxiety spirals. "If I'm not doing this then this will happen, and then this won't work, and then we'll be late for this, and it will throw off her bedtime, and then I won't get any work done, andthenandthenandthen...."
I'm vain. To a fault. I used to care so, so, so much about how I looked because it wasn't good enough. I wasn't thin enough so I wasn't beautiful. But now, NOW, I'm thin. Now I can fit into those skinny jeans. Now I have people DAILY telling me how jealous they are of the way *I* look, and I'll be damned if I don't. If you see a mirror within 20 ft of you, you bet you'll see me in it. And don't worry, if you don't see that mirror, I'll go find it. Shit, look how much I just elaborated the fact that I consume myself with *me*. Attractive...

and after milling over and over in my head how all of these things are connected- I came to this:

I have to prove my worth.

To who? To you, to your mother, to my neighbor, to my husband, to my mother, to my friends, to my children. TO THE WORLD. and least importantly, to my God.
To prove to you that I know what the hell I'm talking about, I will dish out the bitchiest, most graceless comeback you've ever heard, and cry when you call me out on it.
I will take control over the situation, whatever it is, to prove you can count on me, and that I can do it better than you.
I will make sure I look as attractive as possible when I'm out in public to prove to everyone my youth wasn't wasted on my young motherhood, that I can still satisfy my husband, that I am as cool as my friends, and that I'm most certainly not concerned with appearances...
I have to prove that my "mistake" of a back ally pregnancy that is my physical conception is worth my every breath. That I'm not failing my physical mother, nor that I am exceeding her expectations. I have to prove to the asshole that knocked her up that little half-breed me made something of myself, and dammit, I'm one of the best at what I do.

All of this falls like a rotting 50 pound bag of garbage right in my lap, it's stench absolutely nauseating.


At this point I'm spinning while my brain is rattling off the tiny details, hurts and wrongs of my heart when I hear the woman speaking say

"No one can steal your joy, unless you give it away."

Romans 8:38-39

And I think, "AHA! YES! It is her fault for being too trusting with me, I can't help it if she got hurt."
And then I think "... I guess it's my fault, for giving her my joy"

So then back to praying I go when the speaker then says

"Death and Life are in the power of the tongue"

Proverbs 18:21

And it hits me. How much have I killed with my words? All those times I did not encourage, I did not breath life into my friendships with words... All the times my over compensating harshness has overshadowed the Grace that Jesus has given me.

What do you do? Where do you find balance?
And that brought me right back to this song. "A glass can only spill what it contains"

*I* can't do it. Controlling, bitchy, vain, broken me CAN. NOT. do this. When *I* do this, what pours out from me is sour vinegar, not precious sweet wine. What flows from me leaves stains that can be scrubbed away, but penetrate deep. Only the One that can wash those sins away can cover all of these areas of my life.

So tonight, this is my prayer

Oh you, pious and profane

Put away your praise and blame

Said, "A glass can only spill what it contains"

To the perpetually plain, the incurably inane

A glass can only spill what it contains

XO,
Mae

That One Weekend I Felt A Little Bit Famous: Weekend In Pictures: DC Edition

So a few weeks ago, it happened. All the planning all year long, and it actually freakin happened.

I was flown out to DC to photograph "The Great Nurse-In" in Washington, DC, and local nursing mamas.
It was actually a very quick trip since I was so "go go go" the whole time I was there, and I'm still working on the pictures for all of the mamas I got to meet, but I figured I'd take a break and edit a few personal photos.

(Nursing @ 30,000 ft, Puppy enjoying some juice, "bubbles" (or clouds as they are known to the rest of us)

(norah bein a skinny lil' toddler and patiently hanging out while I shot as soon as we got in)

(rad headboard at the hotel, sorbet from room service, N & Puppy crashed)

(ridin on the metro, vegan muffins at an adorable little bakery, sneak of a shot from a mini session)

(gorgeous spread at the Eastern Market where I had my second mini session, I can't wait to share these images-they are some that I have wanted to take my entire career, and it just...happened!)

(made it to the Capitol just in time for the event)

(sweating our booties off after the event, came back to the hotel for some r&r, went to the National Portrait Museum before dinner with our amazing hosts)

"I'm going in, Mama!"

"JUST KIDDING!!!"

(Me "Norah!!! SAY CHEESE!!" Norah, "NOOOOOO!!"

(desert after dinner)

(Best cupcakes of your life. Vegan, some gluten free, DELICIOUS. We ate all three. Then and there. I am not ashamed. Much.)

(that night we went back to the room, recovered from my diabetic coma, snuggled, watched Phelps dominate the Olympics, and got ready for another day of metro hoppin and picture takin)

(breakfast with Puppy back at Eastern Market. apparently this was "Have a gorgeous, entertaining, international accent day" at the Bakery, I felt super classy, y'all)

(photo bombin' all my mini sessions. no but really. lots of photoshop happening people. lots.)

(more metro, bfast, and airportin.)

All in all, it was a fantastic trip, and I feel *so blessed* to have been able to go.
I'll be back with a link up to all of the pictures from the weekend.




In other news, God definitely is moving and shaking things up in this house. And it's been awesome. We started homechool this week too. WOO. It's never ending in the Burke house, I tell ya ;]

In the Waiting Womb

I have never been so busy in my whole life. Being a breastfeeding photographer during World Breastfeeding Week is...nuts. So. much. stuff. to. do.
But before I got really burned out editing another session, I wanted to give you a little peek in on our lives lately.

A few months ago Eamon and I were...uh, you know, having parent time... doing the horizontal tango... sex. We were sexing. Full on marital bliss sexing. And BAM out of nowhere I was all "Screw the condom, I want to get pregnant, my body is all 'knock me up' and I'm totally cool with that!" and Eamon was all...jump across the other side of the room. But in all seriousness, it was very weird.

For the next few weeks I floated around, secretly hoping that I made my announcement to Eamon a little too late and there was a little brother sprouting up in my womb. But, alas, no babe.
The next month came, and I was late...REAL late...like, this only has happened three times before kinda late.
I walked into Target, starring at all the mirrors and windows and glass objects, trying to tell if there was anything different about me, almost certain I saw that *glow* even planned out some baby names (here-by claiming Maxine and Rhys for future Burke babies, back off, I got dibs.) I bought my tests, chugged a water on the way home, and snuck into the bathroom.

Two minutes later.
Nada. Well, Negative, anyway.

"Ah," I think. "There's not enough HCG in there since it's like 10, I'll wait til morning."

5 a.m.
Nope. Still not pregnant.

Not gonna lie, I cried. I sat up with Jesus and talked to Him about how ready I was, how it was okay if this happened and that I will always welcome a baby. Even if we'd need a car, the momentum Eamon and I have put into both of our businesses would come to a grinding halt, we have 10k in debt from college, and I haven't slept more than 10 hrs this weeks because of work and crying babies...Please Lord...Just let me be pregnant.

Needless to say, I started my period a few days later, and am currently monsterating, so no, no baby for the Burkes right now, but the strangest thing happened. Day after day over the next few weeks, the announcements came flooding in.

She is pregnant.
And she is pregnant.
They're expecting.
And they are with child.

In fact, nearly everyone who has been pregnant at the same time as me with both of the girls is being blessed with another babe.

And, because I'm a sucky friend, I kinda didn't handle this well.
"WHY GOD!? Why them and not me?"

For the first time people were asking me why I wasn't pregnant. Suddenly everyone forgot that I'm 5-10 years younger than all of my peers. Suddenly the fact that I haven't spent the night away from both of my babies...EVER...was okay. And suddenly the fact that my intestinal lining (or lack there of) has given both of my girls life altering allergies was just no big deal. And then, bringing it up sounds like I'm being judgmental of the fact that all the woman (that I love dearly) are pregnant again. Right? Rude...


Playing the waiting game is not something I do well with God. I get impatient, I make up my own rules, I tend to make a mess of things. Right now I'm choosing Hope. I am hopeful for our family's future, because Jesus knows how thrilled I would be to be pregnant again, and yet I am to wait. He will be orchestrating all the small details in our life to make our family thrive before sustaining a new life, not just survive. He will be restructuring our finances, pulling a new car in our driveway, healing mine and Norah's body, taking my marriage to new depths and heights, preparing me for the mother that our next baby will need. I know all of this from the one door He closed. And I am hopeful.

Here's to my quartet <3

Three

Today she is three.

Go here to read her birth story.

I love birthday week :]

Forward Motion

I've been talking in my head for weeks about spiritual gifts, raising little girls, being a young wife, and increasing my milk supply/cup size by drinking Mother's Milk tea on the regular (the illusion of perkiness is what matters here, folk) but instead, I bring to you this little nugget of my life:

Running.

Back up to last Saturday.
I quit my fast, decide I'm special enough to back out of my promises to God. And I'm antsy.
Monday comes along and I tell Eamon "I just need to sweat" (which I follow up with a stern reminder that certain sweaty activities need to wait 'less we end up with Burke Baby number 3).
So while the girls nap I pop in 30 Day Shred and get after it. Strange thing though...I don't die. True story. I lived to tell the tale. As a matter of fact, I hardly broke a sweat. The sad, sad truth of it all, is that it's so much easier for me to work out with 40 pounds off of me that I was working with this time last year. (From post-partum weight until now, I've lost a total of 60 pounds. And I would gain it all back if I could have pizza once a week again. Bet.)
The next morning I woke up sore, but not the dibilating soreness that I'm used to. Sure, I played it up and made Eamon get all the groceries off of the bottom shelves for me, but it really wasn't that bad.
Then, one of my friends posted on facebook that she needs a running buddy. I live like 5 seconds from her so it was kind of a no brainer. The catch- H is flipping super woman. Homegirl runs like 10+ miles a week which is exactly 10+ more miles than I've ran in about 5 years. So there's that.
All week I stay active, stare at Jillian's flexi-Barbie Doll abdomen, make sure I sweat a little (which, by the way is harder than it used to be. Why didn't you skinny people tell me you're freezing ALL THE TIME?!) and kinda dread Friday morning. The morning I said I'd "run" with Hannah. It finally occurs to me, I've never ever ever in my whole life ran without an inhaler. I used to have acute asthma and use 3 different inhalers a day, at least. My body has never ran without steroids in it's lungs. Yes they help, and man did they take away the pain, but I have no idea what my body is actually capable of.

This morning comes, and I'm pretty sure I'm in the clear, it's raining. YESSSSS. Time to stay in bed.
But lo and behold...7:30 rolls around and the rain has subsided. That takes care of that. Let's do this.
I stretch and decide to take a "warm up run" to the farmers market where we are supposed to meet. The first few blocks are up hill, then it's all downhill. Halfway up the hill I start having a hard time. We're talking a few blocks people. But I decide to just go, just push, let's see what I can do today.
I make it to the top of the hill, then feel the freeing, exhilarating feeling of running down hill on a misty morning. I've never actually experienced that. I realize then that I've been keeping my pace with my favorite praise song in my head (couldn't find my ipod) and take the few minutes to enjoy the morning and invite God into my run. And just like that, I was at the Farmer's Market.

By the time my sweaty, still somehow gorgeous at 8 in the morning friend gets there she says "Oh, I've already run 3 miles, but I could do another if you want."

Oh. right. You already did three. I did...what, 5 blocks...that's like...at least five miles. Psh. Easy.

As to not look like a wimp, I take her up. My run there was great. I felt good. And just like any great 90s sitcom, I all of a sudden can't run. My calf starts seizing up on me and this spritely gazelle in front of me sees past the gorgeous, ambiguously mixed race goddess, and sees the frizzy headed 7th grader complaining to her basketball coach that "It Hurts." Thanks calves. Traitors.

So I go around the block with her and take the walk of shame limping home.
Loser.

Oh, but don't worry, once I got on my street I made sure to sprint the last few blocks home,  I also laid out in my front yard, did some of my best yoga cool down moves, and some bicycle crunches so, you know, everyone would think I was doing that the whole time. Chumps.

Rewind again to Thursday. Eamon is trying his hardest to sweetly tell me how foolish I am for quitting my fast because it was hard. The fasting part wasn't hard, but the not getting any business, not being able to stay in touch with my friends, not feeling supported (read, not having someone cheer for me every time I didn't log on to facebook and tell me how awesome I am). Forget the fact that instead of wasting time I've been digging deep into my photography craft. Instead of scrolling through friends that I've hid on fb because I am jealous of their lives, stirring up bitterness in my heart, I am more familiar with the map of my Bible. Forget the fact that instead of thinking in status updates and concerning myself with why I didn't get more "likes" for the clearly hilarious comment I left on someone's picture, I have actually caught myself praying, or worshiping our Savior without knowing it.

As I sat down to write this, I realized that this fast has been like my first run without an inhaler.
I'd never done something like that before. I was so excited to see how far I could push my body, to defy what I thought my lungs were capable of, and fool myself into thinking I wasn't going to smack myself in my face with my boobs. I was eager to see what my body could do without those helpful steroids. But my soul...my soul I've kept more guarded. Instead of nurturing an eagerness to push my spiritual limits, I was content with the help of those steroids. I wanted that '"feel good fast." The one where, since your fasting, you and all of your friends become closer, you get a raise, and you never have a bad hair day. You're encouraged by all of these good things that forward motion is easy. Your lungs never burn, your calves never seize up.


A few hours ago I checked my "Map My Run" website, knowing that I didn't actually finish the route that I'd planned for that morning. Mapping what I ran and walked back [not including the block that I totally failed at being impressive with my friend] and it was a mile and a half! Not bad, right?! Then I mapped just what I ran... Three quarters of a mile! Half of that was uphill! I can't remember when I ran .75 miles consecutively, let alone without my inhaler.

Needless to say, I am continuing [possibly starting over] my fast.

Here's something else I've been "digging into" (boooo! ;] )

Hopefully this fall we will have sweet potatoes!
Hope you all have a great Father's Day weekend.

XO,
Mae

"With Wisdom, Power, & Love"

*All that is discussed in this post is not to bring attention to us. No pity is being requested, only reverence for our Soveriegn Lord.

A few weeks ago I mentioned that I was going on a fast.
As we loaded up the car to go to Rockport, I told Eamon we should pray about what things in our lives we should be giving up in order to spend more time with Jesus. I knew immediately that facebook had once again started to cloud up my mind, consuming more of my thoughts than prayers, and carrying weight in my heart that should be Jesus'.
The night before my fast I sat with my bible, journal and a cup of tea meditating on what this fast would look like. I decided to give up sugar for 40 days as well since fasting from food is so biblical [and selfishly because after a year of not eating dairy [of absolutely any kind], eggs, and wheat, giving up sugar for 40 days shouldn't really be a big deal.] As I sat on the porch thinking about all of this, one thing kept popping in my mind "Satan will make this hard for you, but I will be there." I had visions of Eamon and I fighting, of empty wallets, of an ER trip, and of me writing in my journal. It seemed very...small, looking back on it. Like I had an attitude of arrogance that *I* can overcome it, that *I* was going to be strong enough to get through it. To stick through my fast without wavering seemed to be the real goal in my head.
The first day of my fast Eamon and I fought like we never have before. And the second day. And the third day. On the third day, being completely sick of the emotional turmoil in our home, I spent time with Jesus in the morning to bring clarity and favor into mine and Eamon's communication. It was going well, until my genius toddler stuck a bobby pin up her nose and got it stuck. So off to the ER I went. An xray and hour and a half later, the doctors decided a) she swallowed it or b) we're full of crap and it was never up there. So home we went.
By the end of the first week I was very weary. And then financial distress sent me into an extreme bought of worry. All that week and the next we had less than $10 to our name with rent coming just around the corner. Eamon and I hustled and did everything we could to bring in some money, and by God's grace he found enough costumers for the both of us to pay for rent and a week's worth of food in about 4 days. Nothing is too big for him.
*As a side note- When we moved into our new home Eamon and I were making more than enough money to cover the expenses of a home and the bills that go along with it, we wouldn't have moved otherwise. We expected Eamon to get busier as his job was terminated allowing him to work at home, which he has. So it would seem as though we are being irresponsible with our money, but that just isn't the case. What we didn't expect is that my job, which was bringing in twice as much as Eamon on my slowest of month, would come to a screeching halt making me less money per month than I was a year ago when I was half as busy. I only say this because I have been shamed about our financial planning in the past and don't wish to make this post about that.
So week one was spent tearing my family to bits, Week two [and the majority of week three] was spent sulking in the stress of finance. So last night, I was just over it. With my phone being disconnected, and having no way to keep in touch with my friends [and lets face it, if you aren't on facebook, not many people, myself included, go out of their way to see how you are] and still being hungry after dinner, I sent Eamon to the store to get me something to eat for dessert. So there I sat, eating half package of Fig Newman's after binging on facebook, jumping from friend to friend's profile in silent. Catching up on all that I had missed, and not feeling great about it. Eventually I put the cookies down and logged off of facebook and spent the rest of my evening present for my husband.
Not really expecting or wanting anything in particular from this morning's service, I sat through my Care group and had a good time honing my spiritual gift, more so than most weeks, got through the stress of getting Norah to stay in Children's Church, and listened carefully to the sermon. I was hoping that God would interrupt Michael's sermon and give me a word that would be specifically uplifting and encouraging, but didn't get anything.
Our current series is on Worship, so as usual, we end the sermon with a mash up of two worship songs. When the words to "How Great is Our God" came up on the screen I felt conflicted. On one hand I was glad to know the words, on the other it was just that one song that we all know that lost it's meaning a long time ago. So I sang loud as they were playing it in just my key and I didn't have a baby on me to tame. The Lord had my attention. Then they went into "Our God." However you practice your faith, shoot, even if you don't believe, I'm sure you've hear it.
The refrain goes like this:

"Our God(our God) is an awesome God
He reigns(He reigns) from heaven above
With wisdom(with wisdom) pow'r and love
our God is an awesome God"

As soon as the words "He Reigns" came out of my mouth I was overcome with shame and immediate repentance. I couldn't stand on my own knowing how faithless I have been with more Lord. I have acted as if there are limits and boundaries and expectations on where/how/when God can work. I have not given Him credit for sending me to bed each night with a full belly, for clean, growing, healthy children, for a roof over my head that is in every way shape, and form EXACTLY what I prayed for. For loving me deeply in a way that I take for granted daily. I tried my hardest to make the words come out, but Jesus met me where I was and I felt the Holy Spirit with me so intimately, like it hasn't been in a very long time. As I came out of my fog, I was singing "With wisdom, pow'r and love, our God is an awesome God." and though my words may have been indiscernible to the ears around me, they resonated deep within my soul.

While this isn't the most eloquent post I've ever written, I share this with you just because this is my life right now. This is how God, once again, shows me how he will never let me down. I will not cease singing His praises of His sovereignty and divinity over shame and a financial slump. I'm praying you will look past your circumstances to find what Jesus is doing for you.