Mother Nature's son

Yesterday was a hellish day. Every May, I drag - d.r.a.a.a.a.a.a.g. - my family to a gorgeous flowering wall about five minutes from our house for pictures. Last year, the sun was way too bright and you all kindly helped me and suggested earlier in the morning as a way of avoiding all the squinting. Just so you know, Matt totally blames you, yes you, for our 8:30 a.m. excursion Friday morning. Don't mention it.


It was like herding four children and a Great Dane puppy. Cats would have been a pleasure is what I am telling you. And no, I didn't put on any make up. We were there before 9:00 a.m. It's a miracle some of us aren't naked.



I know they look all cute and adorable and cuddly, but mere seconds before each of these pictures was taken, I had to wipe and moisturize and threaten and cajole to rid them of the snot and tear tracks and nasty, pouting faces. No shadows though. Yay!!




Quinn's pants got wet. THE TRAGEDY OF WET PANTS. WE SHALT NOT SURVIVE IT. Saige was excellent. She likes having her picture taken. Hallelujah. Garrett was constantly doing something dumb with his hands. I have 80017 outtakes in which it appears that Garrett's hands are possessed by freakish aliens.

Nate decided a few days ago that he hates nature. Hates it. Trees? Hate. Grass? Hate. Sticks? Leaves? Natural surfaces of any sort? HATE. He even cries when I set him down on the sidewalk. It is absolutely bizarre and disturbing. If you even shift him on your hip over grass he clings like a little howler monkey and cries. Ohmigod NO! NOT THE GRASS!!!!


You see? Flowers! Are! Touching! Me! Nature. The horror.


Saige: You're totally going to blame me if the baby falls, aren't you? Also, I look pretty, adore me.
Garrett: How can I unexpectedly do something completely bizarre and picture-ruining with my hands before the shot?
Quinn: Mine panz R weehheetttt. Oh. Something shiny.
Nate: I see how you have cleverly arranged it so that nature is not touching me right now, but nature is alarming close to me and the minute nature brushes any part of my body with its pretty soft little flowers, I am going to howl my outrage and ruin your pictures. I see you nature. I'm on to you.
Matt: (That's Matt hiding behind the baby in order to ensure that at no time does nature sully said baby by touching him with its beautiful, but deadly, blossoms of doom. He's thrilled, I can assure you.) You have got to be effing kidding me.

The pictures turned out okay this year, don't you think? Which is all that matters, no? Who cares about stinking reality as long as I have beautiful, idyllic NON SNOTTY pictures posted on my mommy blog with which to not-remember how my real life went down. Perfect.

If I can summon the courage and energy sometime this weekend, I'll write a little story about the rest of my Friday. Because it got progressively worse from yelling at my entire family about my obsessive compulsive need for cute flower pictures before 9:00 a.m. Have a fabulous weekend, and be careful out there, campers: NATURE, she is sneaky, she is everywhere, and that bitch will touch you.