As Josie ran out of the frame, I said "Well, we could pretend we only have three kids." Crazy photographer lady thought I was on to something.
"Yeah, both of them in one chair . . .good idea, Crazy Lady."
Josie wants no part of it.
"I know the wonders of Photoshop, but you don't utilize such technology in this candy shop. Tell me when I'm in the frame next time, K?"
And exhale . . .
I have a friend with a bunch of kids who is always telling me I need to lower my expectations. Then some blah blah about how I'm setting myself up for disappointment. When I hear that, I always think that I'm being told to settle, which in turn, drives me further insane.
I will not accept half-assed attempts. From me, maybe. From others, no way.
However, as a compromise, I try to have reasonable expectations. You know, achievable.
The dresses and the bows and the hose and the shoes and the hair and the accessories just don't happen. (I realize that is a Mark sentence, but it's done to make an impression.) And I won't lie. I adore that part. I love having girls. I love dressing them like dollies. I love the mental pictures in my mind as I coordinate them all in the isles of some store.
But I hate going somewhere to get their pictures taken. I don't even know why I do it anymore.
I'll save the drama details. But let's just say there were tears involved.
These are obviously the ones I didn't buy.
I'm thinking about putting a hit on the photographer.