Not a Princess

Girls,

I want you to know something. I will never call you "Princess." To be honest, I don't want you to think of yourselves as a princess. You may hear other girls affectionately called that, but you should know this: we don't have any princesses at our house.

Don't get me wrong. We will still delight in the wonders of little girl-hood. It will be okay if we have princess dress-ups and watch princess movies. We can have princess balls and castle toys. But you are not a princess, and that is not what we aspire to.

You are a brave, strong, girl. You are smart girls. You are beautiful girls--with a beauty I could have never imagined. You are independent girls, and capable girls. You girls are soon going to be women, and I hope you continue to develop all of these traits into womanhood.

I hope, more than anything, that just as every princess demands respect when she enters a room, you do too.

But here's the thing about princesses. That title is empty--it came with no effort. She didn't earn it and didn’t have to prove herself to get it. She was born, and someone handed her a tiara. She also immediately had a team of housekeepers and cooks and trainers and stylists and tutors, and yes, wealth and luxuries. She had the immediate attention of newspapers and media crews, constantly noting every milestone in her life.

It wouldn't be fair to you to call you a princess, because that won't be your life.

You will have chores and have to help make dinner. No one will wait on you, or ask if things suits your tastes. While we will always try to help you look your best, you will certainly wear hand-me-downs. You might not get applause or constant recognition. You will need to work hard, get educated, create your own opportunities, and to prove yourself.

We want you to prove yourself! We are so excited for you to prove yourself! We've already watched you prove that you are compassionate, and bright, and charming, and full of pluck. We hope that you will also prove friendship, and a strong work ethic, and grit, and loyalty, and integrity.

I won’t call you "princess" because I need you to know that you are no better than anyone else. You are not better than any of your siblings. You are not better than anyone in your class at school. You are not better than anyone on your team or at church or anywhere else. There is SO much inherently good about you--which I intend to cherish and praise you for--but there is no one thing about you that makes you any better than anyone else. You need to remember that.

Girls, don't marry someone who treats you like a princess.

Marry someone who treats you with respect. A lot of it. You should find someone who treats you as an equal, a partner, a half of a whole. You should find someone who listens to you and respects your opinion. Someone who wants to be on a team with you in everything for the rest of your life.

You should only marry someone who loves you very, very deeply. Who cares for you and honors you and is grateful for you. You should find a boy that treats you very, very well--but it is not his job to wait on you or constantly bring you home jewelry or to make sure you have everything you ever wanted. It is his job to be your companion. And you need to love him and respect him and listen to him and dote on him just as much as you want to be doted upon.

You are also not a princess, because you will probably not have a fairytale "happily ever after."

You will probably grow up and have a life full of a lot of normal things. Here's the thing about adulthood: real jobs and real marriage and real parenthood are mostly made up of a lot of tedious things. You will probably load the dishwasher more times than you can guess. You will probably eat a lot of normal breakfasts and dinners. You will probably send a lot of the same emails most days. You will probably pay the electric bill. You will probably hang up a lot of the same clothes and drive to the same places over and over.

But you can do it beautifully. And I am here to tell you that even if it’s not in a castle, you can find more than enough magic in it and still be very, very happy.

The world doesn't need any more princesses.

But we do need your opinions, and your ideas, and your sense of humor. We need your hard work and we need you to make things happen. We need you to love deeply and genuinely look after those around you. I need my brave, strong, beautiful girls--ones that live with respect for themselves and for others.

We have girls that are a lot of things. But we don't have any princesses at our house.

So You're a Photographer Now?

Some occupations are entered through an accredited system. Want to be a teacher? Get a teaching license. Want to be a nurse? Get a nursing license.

Some fields have final milestones: Lawyers have to pass the bar exam. Doctors have to pass boards.

Engineers gets jobs after engineering degrees, and business students get jobs after internships.

Through classes and accreditation and hours of on-the-job training, you can become recognized as a certified __________. It's a clear process and timeline.

The arts are different. What signifies that you've made it? What distinguishes you as having moved past a "student" of your field? When do you cross the line from a hobbyist or amateur to a professional?

Nothing. 

Nothing. at. all.

There is no accreditation process, to say, becoming a musician. There's no licensure to become a writer, or a painter. There's no exam to qualify a photographer. Or a filmmaker. Or a dancer.

You just keep producing things, and in the beginning you're a novice and at some other later point you're a professional. When do you even make the transition from, say, someone who works on film projects, to a "filmmaker?" Or someone who writes, to a "writer?" You can't even really argue that it changes when you do it for money--history sure tells us that getting paid for your work does not an artist make.

It's just this arbitrary point.

It's not exactly pin-pointable.

And I've heard others also squirm in embarrassment and fear that they know what they "practice" but don't know what to call themselves.

Man, that's how I feel.

I've been so terrified to use that "photographer" word. I think by definition I've been doing a bit of it. I've been taking other people's photos and I want to keep doing that. I'm investing significant time and resources into it. I'm reading books and learning from forums and signed up for workshops, all trying to learn and practice. I've gotten paid for it.

But somehow making a blog that says "Jennie Brown Photo" and telling people that I do this makes me feel like a big fat phony. I mean, it's not like I'm *qualified.* But I can't figure out how to qualify myself other than to keep doing what I'm doing and take a couple thousand more pictures, you know?

So, in answer to your question:

Are you a photographer now?

I'm mostly just still Jennie, and I'm just being a little more open about something I've been doing a lot of. But I'm also realizing that in order to be able to get more opportunities to do it and make it sustainable, I have to tell people that I am, in fact, a photographer.

I know I'm nothing special. It's not like I think I'm the next hottest thing to happen to photography or have some *artiste* complex. I cringe a little knowing that I'm another young Utah mom with a DSLR. It's embarrassing, really.

But I also know it gives me an adrenaline rush when people ask me to take their pictures. And another one while we shoot. And I know that I don't have to be the biggest, hottest, next thing to make something that I and others can be happy about.

And I'm really going to have to get over this embarrassment thing to keep learning and progressing. That's the other important nature of working in the arts (and, well, everything). You have to keep putting yourself out there and embarrassing yourself to get any better. Which I intend to work at.

So, without further ado:

jenniebrownphoto.blogspot.com

I hear that my social media updates of my baby can be deceiving.

People believe I have this bubbly smiley sunshiney girl. And then in person they see that she's a little fussy, and a little particular, and her tummy hurts her a lot. She also gets a little nervous and overwhelmed in a crowd.

But here's the downright truth:

When my baby wakes up from a nap, and gets to relax at home with just her mama, and her (sometimes traumatizing) older sister is taking a nap....

She just looks like this, this, and this:

And who can resist that?!

I think that giving her a bath and playing just the two of us on this summer's late afternoon was kind of exactly what we both needed. 

Sorry. She's taken.

what we've been up to

We may not be blogging, but here's a few other things we've been doing:

San Diego Zoo:

3 reasons I know I married the right person

1. At the end of the day at the beach, he looks over and says "Want to go jump in the ocean one more time?" and does a kamikaze run with me to dive through a few more waves.

2. He's really good at finding things (keys, etc).

3. He dances at weddings. 

Current status:

"We'll stay home and get so many things done today," I said.

"We'll do all the chores and vacuum everywhere and clean the bathroom," I said.

"I'll work out AND take the girls out for a walk to take books back to the library," I said.

"Maybe I'll even finish that film/photo stuff I was working on yesterday," I said.

"We'll have it all done so we can play hard all weekend," I said.

How today has really gone: 

Wake up, feed baby, bring baby into bed to sleep a little longer. Husband gets up.

Wake up to toddler whining as she tries to get in our bed. Pull her up, go back to sleep.

Wake up again. Sneak into shower while baby still sleeping.

Say goodbye to husband, help small girls eat. Change diapers a couple of times. 

Get toddler a drink, and prop baby nearby while I grab my hand weights. Start Jillian Michaels work out. 5 minutes later, jump rope to the kitchen to get more chocolate milk for whiny toddler. Interrupt dumbbell squats to help screaming baby find the binky. At minute 13, stop the DVD and decide to nurse the inconsolable baby. I'll have to get back to it during naptime.

Feed baby.
Read stack of books to toddler.

Eat hurried breakfast at 10.

Finally begin cleaning.

Put toys in basket. Put toys in other basket. Have toddler empty both baskets. Help toddler put the doll in the high chair. 

Put toys in basket again.  Have toddler empty again.

Renew library books online so we don't have to make a trip to the library today.

Visit with neighbor out front.

Hungry baby again.

Toddler crying about something sticky, which I try to wipe off, but her foot isn't actually sticky and she's still mad. Have toddler scream at me for coloring in her reading chart, storm off repeatedly throwing down and picking up reading chart. She's still angry I colored the circle pink (her favorite color at the moment).

Hold baby that apparently needs to be held. Toddler now climbing in my lap on top of baby, crying about how she needs to be held. Toddler shoving baby aside.

Get baby asleep. Pick up toddler, talk her down, sing.

Baby wakes. Too sad to be adjacent on the couch.

Both girls are sad. Both have to be held. Both are tired and both need a lap. Sing, coerce, juggle and wish for an extra set of arms. Repeat the same Primary song over and over.

Toddler down! Let nap time commence!

Baby down! Let nap time commence!

Baby flutters in and out of sleep. I realize I should stay put for a minute. Browse the internet. Pull up the blog.

It's now 1pm. We haven't gone anywhere. Still have yet to vacuum. In fact, I need to put the toys back in the basket again. No one has eaten lunch. 

But everyone is now soundly enough asleep that I may try and move these children and actually get something done. (Hint: it won't be Jillian Michaels.) 

Both children are now stirring.

I'm off!