Phew, you guys. We did it. Family pictures for Christmas cards.
I'm not one of those moms who goes out and buys matchy-matchy outfits for pictures, but I try really hard to pick clothes for everyone that fall in the same color family. It's getting more and more difficult the more people we add to this freak show.
Usually I can find 4 outfits that look great together, but I get to the last family member or two and they own nothing that's even remotely close.
It also means that the night before pictures, half of everyone's closet is on my bedroom floor while I try to decide. Here's what I came up with:
Which one do you like better? Vote in the comments below.
We also couldn't find my son's church shoes, so he wore sneakers to the portrait studio. They've actually been missing for a few weeks, but I refuse to go out and buy a new pair. Because how do you lose a pair of church shoes? Did he come home barefoot one Sunday? They have to be somewhere.
Still, we tore the house apart and they didn't turn up. My son checked in the toilet tanks, people. The toilet tanks.
I have no other ideas as to where they could be.
One more thing about pictures: we arrived our standard 15 minutes late, but when I told them my name at the desk they said I was actually 5 minutes early for our 9:50 appointment.
I booked this thing a while ago so I can't say for sure that I did it on purpose, but I think I may be brilliant because I wrote 9:30 on the calendar. Did I just make a mistake or did I actually foresee us being late and fool myself into getting there on time? I may never know.
Phillip brought me home a handful of Dove chocolates from a church activity this week, on an evening that I sorely needed them. You know the days I'm talking about. I'd been doing kid duty by myself most of the day, I was exhausted, there was junk everywhere (including a random pair of underwear on the dining room table,) and I was still wearing the same clothes I'd worn to bed the night before.
I unwrapped my first chocolate in all my unwashed glory and read the message on the inside of the foil:
|"Let your sensuousness shine through. Love, Dove."|
So... do I need to brush my teeth first in order for that to happen, or...?
I've faked more smiles this week than I have in the last month combined, not only because of family pictures but also because my daughter started playing the recorder. There is something about that sound that haunts my dreams. I mean it, I literally had a nightmare about it a few days ago.
One of my page's Facebook fans told me that their kid's class learned the ukelele instead. Can I say this would be an infinitely better option? I know they're a little pricier than recorders, but I think the extra cost would be easy to justify. Because have you ever seen anyone unhappy listening to the ukelele?
And have you ever seen anyone happy listening to the recorder?
One of Phillip's favorite foods to make for himself are a Venezuelan sort of hamburger (sorry, South Americans, I know it's a poor comparison) called an arepa. It's like two corn-flour flatbreads with stuff between them.
I bought Phillip an arepa maker a few years back for his birthday that makes great arepas but unfortunately smells like burning human hair whenever it's turned on. Not sure if our model is defective and might burst into flames any moment now, or if that's just how it's supposed to smell.
Anyway, the kids were asking about it when the oh-so-familiar smell started wafting through our house and I reminded them that Daddy learned to make arepas when he was younger and served a mission for our church in Venezuela.
"That's right," Phillip said, "They remind me of when I used to be a good person."
Last of all, I'm glad that my day doesn't repeat itself like Groundhog Day until I get to places on time. If it did, I might still be stuck in 1998. How about you?