I’m sitting here at my desk with a headful of L’Oreal Espresso hair color (shhh, our little secret), listening to Bob Dylan and Green Day on my mP3 player and trying to get my head in artist mode. In a few hours I will have my reception for my solo photography exhibit. This is my first since college - and my first solo show.

My folks have flown in from Colorado for the big day and I am very happy to have them here. They have encouraged my creative expression all along and I know this is a sweet moment for them as well. Plus I just like seeing them. Mom and I went out shopping yesterday with the girls to find something new for me to wear to the reception. It took the better part of the day (including too much driving and a couple of rides on the mall carousel for the girls) but I did find something I like at Coldwater Creek.

I feel like I have been acting too humble or bashful about the exhibit and all. It’s just… there has been so much else on my mind these past couple of weeks, with the whole move/not move/move where planning of our future in question. And there is the daily intense chaotic demands of a houseful of young kids to distract me.

And there is the feeling that this is not quite all real. It’s only when I am standing in the gallery with my photos displayed all around me that it sinks in. Yes. Yes! Those are my images on the walls.

The curator, who is also an artist and mom, and I talked about how good it feels to receive recognition and validation for ones artistic pursuits, never more so than when you spend most of your waking hours tending to little kids.

The funny thing? I am more productive and focused as an artist/writer since I became a mom. Maybe I’ve learned the value of squeezing my work into the moments I can hoard, or maybe I have realized that it’s now or never.

So here I come.