Baltimore Wedding Photographer Kathy Freundel » 443.844.2352

My Caroline Joy. She’s ten and straddling the divide between girl and pre adolescent. So, yeah, I’ll admit it . . . I’m feeding the girl part, while taking the opportunity to speak about the art of being a true blue girlfriend. Caroline’s got a good bunch surrounding her, like I’ve got a good bunch surrounding me. Mine? Jenn, who came to do makeup for fourteen, Noel, who did hair for the same bevy, and my sis, Nancy who lent us racks of fru-fru costumes. Oh, wait, and my mom, who provided the venue, and my grandmas who provided a whole arsenal of  vintage jewelry, hand held mirrors, and ribbon . . . well, if you know me, my list of people to be grateful for goes on and on.

But Caroline, my Caroline. . . yeah, I want her on my roster:)

Check out the whole stinkin’ cute gallery right here. . . .and Caroline’s girlfriends . . . right click and snag away:)

Pale baby blues that made his heart stop. Confident athlete’s swagger that made her heart start. Townie falls for  Jersey girl. Blind date. Western Maryland College. Late 50′s.

I wish I had a snapshot of the first time he laid eyes on her.

I don’t. But I do have a snapshot this day. After fifty years of marriage . . . she still has him.

Theirs was a whirlwind romance. She was a senior; he had one more year on the Hill. But he had to have her. Sold his trenchcoat to buy the diamond . . . took her to their special booth at Baugher’s . . . and sealed the deal.

They dreamed together. Built a little 60′s style brick rancher on top of a hill dotted with a row of brick ranchers. Built right next to their best friends.

They had kids . . . three . . . and raised us with love and focus. Perfect in their imperfection. So much love and honesty.

And now, fifty years later . . . they are in the sweet spot. And to be around my mom and dad is to understand what it means to live life to the full, to love without limits and to count your blessings.

This photo . . . I snapped it on top of WISP mountain in the early 90′s. I’ve always LOVED this photo. What I did not know is the story behind the photo.

Dad was superintendent of the school system at the time. And it was a sticky time in our county with budget cuts and teacher’s salaries. And Dad was about the kids . . . every day he served in that role, he was for the kids . . . so, he kinda went through the ringer in the press. Lost weight. Had trouble sleeping. It was on this weekend, that Dad told mom he was done. Retiring.  This snapshot holds a new sweetness for me.  Choices. Difficult ones. And keeping the main thing the main thing.

I want that. For all of my days.

There’s a reason that Nancy, Andy and I stay connected . . . really connected to our parents. And there’s a reason why all the grandkids want to be at 64 Blue Swallow whenever they get the invite . . . which is pretty much all the time. It’s their legacy. Indulgent love.

I wanna be Lily when I grow up.

Rain out. State Fair Day. I don’t mean showers . . . I mean, no chance, not even entertaining the thought, rainout. So, while we’re all inside throwing our little pity party, Lily grabs my umbrella . . .digs out her coolest Stevie Nicks . . .and heads out, unannounced, to the yard. And I look up from my seat in the living room and see her skipping in the rain through the yard on a dreary Saturday afternoon.  She’s a party waiting to happen . . . in 100% . . .for whatever the day brings. She makes me so happy.

Yep. I wanna be Lily when I grow up.

My guess is it’s pretty hard when you’re number seven of eight to feel like you’re the special one. And for Isaiah, six . . . it’s quality time that fills his tank. The other thing about Isaiah these days is that he tells me at least once a day, “Mommy, don’t leave . . . you know I have separation issues.” (his exact words . . . wonder when he overheard me say that??)

So . . . Carl and I have been purposeful this summer about doing some confidence building with our little man. And our friend, David gave us the perfect opportunity. Long story short, I bought a car from David a month ago.  I was only going out to look . . . he must be a really good salesman or I am really impetuous. Maybe both.

Yes, both.

But, it was a big win for our family . . . especially Isaiah. Because David has this whole skill set that passed  by our entire family . . . and he’s willing to share it with us.

We were hanging out at a festival in Littlestown, PA . . . chillin’ on the front porch of David’s lot, Automotive Alternatives. Carl and some guys were playing music, the kids were hosting a bake sale/ lemonade stand, and we got on the subject of gokart riding. I remembered our friends had a renegade gokart in their garage they had been trying to unload. . . so a couple of texts later, we were heading over with the trailer to start our project.

Fast forward one day . . . and David has the project ready for Isaiah to tackle.

Best part? Isaiah got to do some of the repair work . . .

And, David gave a minimal driving lesson . . .

. . . and then let Isaiah figure out a whole bunch of things on his own. I had a huge smile on my face the entire time, watching Isaiah experiment and gain confidence, little by little.

As we were leaving, Isaiah said to me in the car . . . “Mommy, next time you don’t have to stay. Mr. David and I can take care of things just fine.” Happy mamma.

Sometimes I am humbled at the gifts I receive. Gifts I don’t even ask for. And when your child is the recipient, it’s even sweeter. Thank you, thank you, thank you, David. We are grateful.

The bread is the myriad “favorites” that everyone brings. Last night it was two kinds of meatballs, sushi, buffalo chicken pizza, spinach feta pizza, texas caviar  . . . and some yum to wash it down. And dessert to die for. And all of it beautifully displayed with the help of my girl, deb edge, with her man, Jim, cheering us on.

The jam is . . . well, just that. An evening with those “out of the box” musician types.

The caveat last night? The kids were invited. And here was the thought . . .  why not expose our most precious ones to the rich flow of talent that we love so well? Value their gifts, give them a microphone or a pair of sticks and have them go to town.  It worked. They took their turns in the jam room, played football at dusk and flashlight tag in the dark, ate way too much dessert, met some new people, stayed up way past bedtime, and couldn’t stop talking about it the day after.

Isaiah, six, sat for a long time studying Steve Drummond, the man who plays every instrument in the room, and does it well.

Lily and Caroline are besties already, but when Lily opens her mouth and Caroline gets on the keys . . .

Even Sam sang his Superman Bathtime Song . . . the one Carl wrote just for him, with vocal coach, Lily right there to encourage.

And my Kristiana and Carl did a little Mandy Moore.

Sam kinda made his rounds . . . meeting new people and climbing into laps to watch for a set. David was the winner on this set.

B & J newbie Matthew Peregoy . . . kicking it on the guitar. Guy can sing too,

And my favorite executive chef/ drum boy dude . . . Patrick Peregoy . . . the man who never sleeps.

Wonderwall, as I recall. Travis, Carl and Kristen. Sweet.

And . . . a little Journey, compliments of Andy and Sherry.

We adults got our turn too. And it was sweet.

Why is it the ones that are so quiet are so screaming talented??? Katie Morse. Case in point.

And finally, my one.  The guy who pours out his heart and soul to  make these crazy plans come to fruition . . . the one who has given our kids the music gene and continually lays down his own will to lift the rest of us up.  He is my heart.

Way back in ’83, two brothers took two girls from neighboring towns out on a double date . . . out for Chinese food at Fan’s on Main Street. The boys didn’t pan out. Our friendship did. Meet Ann.

When the rug was pulled out from under her fairytale, I watched this one find truth and walk on like a warrior. When my time comes, I want as much strength and transparency as Alysse.

She’d put egg whites in her hair, pull out her hairdryer and go to town. Then she’d head down to Hammerjacks. She’s my girl that knows all the words to the songs we grew up with and got our hearts broken with. And every time she texts me, I laugh out loud. Kim.

And, who else would be enough of a friend to lean over in the middle of an end-of-the-year kids’ program . . . while they are reciting their Bible verses . . . and whisper . . .”that blush is horrible on you. you look like Barbie!” My girl, Jenn.

Girlfriends.  We know each other and love each other just the same.

Got your net in place?

I first met him during the run of BatBoy last spring and he blew me away with incredible talent that Carl had told me about for months in advance. But it was his humility and generous spirit on stage and the way that he welcomed me that week before opening that sealed the deal. What was the deal, you wonder? Ummm, adoption:) Yeah, he’s part of our family now . . . and because Hector comes as part of the deal, I’m a happy girl. Carl’s not too disappointed either.

Lured by the promise of a good bottle of Shiraz and pesto fresh out of my garden, Jordan agreed to the deal. I make him dinner. He sings for me. He wrote it on Facebook and I held him to it.

I think I definitely scored the win on that one.

One of my favorite snapshots in all of creation is that one from Under the Tuscan Sun. It’s the one in which Diane Lane has created a beautiful life out of her journey of pain . . . she cooks a beautiful meal for all of her quirky chosen family, and they eat and drink and laugh out on the piazza way into the night, surrounded by hanging lanterns and fireflies. And her joy is palpable.

That was me tonight. In my  sunroom and gazebo. With my loved ones around me . . .

Jordan and Hector know it now . . . mi casa es su casa. (that may be totally lame Espanol, but you get my drift)

Wanna hear the serenade??? 

I call that a score on every level. Watch Jordan roll . . . the man is going places and I’m lucky to be in his corner.

I love the Fourth of July. It’s all about freedom. patriotism.  family. bocce. oh, and fireworks . . . and I’m a sucker for every single bit of it.

My girls are experiencing the Fourth in Boston this year . . . Needham, to be exact, with our good friends, the Dirks. Remember last year, we stayed for the week in their Boston home and visited them on Plum Island? Well, this year, the girls are lodging at Camp Dirks for the week. First solo airplane ride, first week away from home and I’m happy to report they are having the adventure of their lives. They even made it into the town parade. What a taste of Americana.

When I was a little girl, my brother, sister and I would decorate our bikes with streamers and tinsel and ride to the end of the block in River Edge, New Jersey where we would watch the small town parade. Then we would walk to the local park where we would sit on the old stone retaining wall while the veterans were honored. And my Grandma would give us red, white and blue rocket popsicles while we watched. My very favorite part of the morning was the cadence of the marching band that would resound deep in my chest and make my heart beat faster. Even today, I can’t watch a marching band without feeling like I wanna cry. I’m not sure what that’s all about, except my 100 year old grandma is exactly the same way.

This year it was all about family. All my peeps in one house . . . Catch Phrase, my sister’s amazing potato salad, 500 Rummy, and the addition of one more to our posse . . . Willie Mac, all the way from Goochland, Virginia. Senior at JMU and gonna be an English teacher! Haha. Instant adoption:)

My super gorgeous Rachel, who informed me she’s naming her first daughter Kathryn.(mostly for my namesake, Katie . . . but I’m still honored)  She’ll be off to James Madison in the fall, where she’ll take on the world! And today is her 18th birthday!!! She’s my Lily’s birthday buddy.

Here’s what I’ve been chewing on lately. One of my favorite encouragers, Kristin Armstrong says, “To truly relinquish your interest and be totally absolved of seeking information regarding the affairs of others is a major step toward of life of freedom.” Wow.  I want it to be true for me. To walk in freedom all of my days.

Mmmmm.  Mamma love.

It is about church, the verb.

Not just to go to church, but to be the church.

Not just in the church, but for everyone and everywhere.

It is about recognizing that we are all impoverished beggars, and being willing to tell the fellow beggar where to find bread.

It is about being real.

The messy kind of real.

The beautiful kind of real.

I’ve heard Reid say it more than once.

God made fun. And it glorifies Him when we have it.

So every couple of months, we make it a point to celebrate together . . . Crossroads style. That means really good food, really crazy competitions, and a whole lotta laughter.

You want food that doesn’t cost? The living water? You are invited. Crossroads Community Church. My perfectly imperfect family.

It was a total God thing. We were at a party, and a friend said, “Hey, if you ever want to use our beach house, just let me know.” I answered in the next breath, “Ummm, yes. I’m letting you know.” So Frank and Gayle were gracious enough to give us the week, and it was one of the best of my life.

Here are the God parts. It was two houses over from Craig and Jill, friends that go way back . . . she was the model for my very first trash the dress session!  Then, on day two, my ten year old, Caroline was out taking a walk with my Mom, and saw our good friends from Baltimore, who happened to be vacationing right down the street.

With my bff’s Ann and Kim, and their brood of kids by our side, and my Carl commuting back and forth from Bmore, we had the week to end all weeks. We spent lazy hours out on the deck watching our kids kayak out to Davy Jones’ Locker, drinking coffee and red wine. We had a blissful day with my mom and dad and nephew AJ. We sat for hours at the beach watching the kids ride waves and then jumped out of our chairs every so often to show them how it’s done, old school style. We cooked beautiful food, ate and drank out on the deck wayyy into the night, and sang the words to the songs that marked our own restless youth and broken hearts.

Kim texted me this morning. . . our weekend motto. “to love someone is to know the song in their heart, and sing it to them when they have forgotten the words.” That’s the kinda girlfriends I have. The kind that I would die for and vice versa. My prayer is that our kids watch us slog through life together, watch us hold each other up, watch us have each other’s backs . . . and do the same for one another.