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Monday, January 27, 2014

Getting Pretty (FAIL)

I tried to take Zach to a popular portrait studio today for some littleness pictures.  You know, before he's no longer little.  He is getting longer and more triple-chinny by the day, and I know I'm not taking enough pictures to have a clean conscience.  For it is prophesied that one day will come the hour of RECKONING of the COMPARISON of the BABY BOOKS among siblings (Isaiah 13:44).

Once upon a time we took James' first formal portraits at about 3-4 months, Will's at about 5-6 months, and Elise's at about 2-3 months, so I figured we were due for Zach's.  Round two is traditionally at 12 months of age, so as long as we go before that, we're good.

But today's attempt failed gloriously.

I'd gathered all of the flotsam and jetsam necessary for baby portraits--cute clothes, extra clothes (in case he were to Hot-Karl the clothes he was wearing originally), diapers, wipes, drool cloth, decorative baby shoes, etc. Then, I remembered that I also need pictures of myself--headshots.  Non-hideous headshots for bloggery and garden-variety vanity.  A lovely opportunity to make an effort, appearance-wise.  I threw on some ill-fitting clothes that I didn't used to muffin-top out of, applied eyeliner, mascara, and chapstick, and blow-dried my hair.  Wow, was I getting gussied up now!  Zach obliged by screaming his head off for the duration of the prepwork; he might be getting a tooth and is very, very mad lately when I dare attempt to put him somewhere other than in my arms.

Then, despite our having napped generously this morning, he fell asleep just as we pulled into a parking spot at the mall.  No matter!  I would have my headshots done as mine-angel slept angelically in his carseat, I thought.

Nope.  He woke up in the middle of my session.  Right when I was crossing my arms in front of me for a sassy, no-nonsense, cute Mom Blogger pose.  Dang it when kids get in the way of your sassy, no-nonsense momming!  Also, in case you are wondering, it's impossible to "smile with your eyes" or whatever it is they want you to do when they take your picture, when your five-month-old is yelling boldfaced apocrypha and obscenities in baby language.

But the picture lady persevered and got 'er done.  She probably deserved a medal for how quickly she got me in and out of the portrait area.  And the pictures themselves weren't half bad.  It was just....the subject matter.  I looked...pissed off.  And not at all sassy and authoritative and cute.  So, despite the picture lady's heroic efforts to squeeze me into the schedule and portrait me rapidly and everyone having to listen to Zach scream while Mommy tried to Smize, I didn't buy squat.

We're going back on Friday afternoon, Zach and I.  I might have to bring backup staff (i.e., our older kids) to entertain Zach so I can attempt to prettify myself again.  Gosh, it's hard being a woman of the leisure class sometimes--scrapbooks and blogs don't create themselves, you know.

Edit: I forgot the best part.  I ripped the @ss and crotch of my skinnypants (the ones I had to forcibly put on; that should've been my first hint that they didn't fit anymore, I suppose!) as I was bending over to pick up Zach-attack.  People heard the fabric ripping over the angry Zach noises, I think.  Well, at least I got some mild exhibitionism in that day, if nothing else.

Here's the portrait that Joe took of me later, with his cell phone, once the kids were in bed and it was the hour in which all mothers rejoice.

Say, "Nobody is screeeaaming!"



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