Thursday, April 17

On Completing

I had planned to write a post upon the completion of my bachelor's degree.
A degree I've been working towards for the better part of the last decade.
A degree I started in the Photography Department of that art school perched high up on Mt. Scopus.
A degree I eventually completed at an ubiquitous and marvelous institution, in the Department of Psychology and Education.
Friends, I am officially educated.
...
As I write these words, my hear pounds heavy in my chest.
A thick emulsion of pride, relief, joy, fear, apprehension, and ecstasy is as best I can describe the reason for my nervous arrhythmia.
Not including my one and a half years taking pictures and then (superfluously) talking about said pictures, my journey in academia lasted a full seven and a half years.
...
Many of my peers had, by this time, been granted their M.D.'s, Ph.D's, M.A.'s, and various other combinations of letters signifying this or that venture in this or that field of study had been accomplished, conquered, mastered.
A twinge, a pang, a furrowed brow always accompanied my learning of yet another set of letters being appended to another last name.
And always, always, feelings of inadequacy and self-torment.
...
Someone smarter than me once said "Comparison is the thief of joy".
...
I, in the meantime, trudged along in my rudimentary studies.
I got married.
I had a baby.
I worked a few meaningful and meaningless jobs.
I moved to a house that we bought and renovated.
I traveled a bit.
I figured out, in the midst of a where-is-this-thing-going-and-why-am-I-doing-this sort of breakdown, what I actually wanted to do with my life.
I started a job that I liked, at a place that I liked, with people that I liked and that liked and appreciated me and my work.
I had another baby.
I suffered a great disappointment trying to return to that job that I liked only to find out that it wasn't there anymore.
And then I wrote two seminars and I was done being a psychology major.
...
I enjoyed immensely being a student - the learning part was a thrill and a high, the work part was always a struggle.
I never believed I  would one day be done being a psychology major, as the road was long and arduous, the end never really in sight for me.
I began as I usually begin most things in my life - lacking self belief and drowning in pools of self doubt.
...
So when I handed in that final paper, cutting that last string labeling me "student", I was sure it would come back like a boomerang with a note attached reading: nope, you have yet to master this.
But what in fact returned, was a grade. A final grade for a final paper, marking the end of the list of tasks to be completed in order to receive a bachelor's degree in psychology.
...
I was done.
...
On April 27, if the universe aligns just so that all the bureaucratic gods have been sacrificed to with enough time wasted and paper pushed around, I am set to begin the next chapter.
Another two and a half years, give or take, of intense and unrelenting studying, to become a nurse.
A nurse people!
Call me crazy, but I am beyond excited.
And fearful, of course.
But I worked hard to get here.
Because here is where I wanted to be.
It took me longer to realize, to see, to understand, to accept, and to do.
My knowledge all the while that it couldn't have gone any other way - that the lessons I learned, children I birthed, fights I fought, struggles I overcame, successes I snatched - all of these were my milestones on the road to here.
...
Shush, self doubt. Hail, pride.







Wednesday, April 16

10-15/52











Project 52
A portrait of my kids, once a week, every week (read: when life allows)

It's been six weeks and I'm behind, I know. 
We've had a bout of pneumonia. 
A babe turned one. 
A black ninja with a handmade oak sword, and matching handmade leather sheath (guess whose lovely talented hands are responsible...)
One bachelor's degree completed. COMPLETED! DONE! O-V-E-R!
Oodles of seething, fiery jealousy as cuteness overload threatens to devour us all.
All in a day's six weeks work, no?
Here's to hoping I manage to get myself back on track, as I do thoroughly see and feel the beauty and importance of this Project 52. 
Happy Spring!





Sunday, March 2

9/52



Project 52
A portrait of my kids, once a week, every week

We're in this. 

Sunday, February 23

7/52 & 8/52

7/52




8/52



Project 52
A portrait of my kids, once a week, every week (well, in theory...)

Sniffles, coughs, sick days.
A farewell to nursing. 
An onslaught of envy tantrums.
Outside my window, what looks and feels like the end of a winter that never really was.

Monday, February 10

6/52



Project 52
A portrait of my kids, once a week, every week


Sick kiddos and sick mom means this is a day late.
Oh, weird Israeli winter-no-winter. Make up your mind already. I'm tired of being confused.


Sunday, February 2

5/52



Project 52
 A portrait of my kids, once a week, every week

Though not for lack of trying, I got no worthy shots this week.
And then it occurred to me, is there a rule, somewhere, stating that the photos had to have been taken this past week?
Perhaps it's implied, but I don't care really. My archives are busting, and it's time to rip them open.

Alon- About one year ago. I was very pregnant, he was 4.5.
Anna - Celebrates her first birthday so very soon. This is her at 6 months. 

Sunday, January 26

4/52




Project 52
A portrait of my kids, once a week, every week

As of this past Tuesday, I'm 32 years old.
That's all I have to say about that.

Sunday, January 19

Better Late than... About Committing

3/52



Project 52 
A portrait of my kids, once a week, every week

...
I don't make New Year's Resolutions. 
But I've been following this project series here, and been reading about it here, and I have been inspired to action. 
For me, it's about committing to something, one thing, and seeing it through. 
So, I'm off. 2 weeks late, but hey, it is still me here.