Yesterday we got ourselves all fancied up and headed off to a photoshoot. Here’s the part where I say, let me explain. You see, I don’t normally go in for portrait sittings, and here’s why: there are a-freaking-mazing photographers less than a mile from my house. One in particular I have been wanting to schedule a photoshoot with for a long time (MEG!) I just haven’t gotten around to it. Something about the baby taking all my free time.
Besides Meg I know at least four or five other incredibly talented friends who could take some amazing portraits of my family. So why were we scheduled to have a family portrait done with a large run-of-the-mill studio corporation? Two words: Family. Portrait. Ok, wait, that probably didn’t actually help.
Three words: Extended. Family. Portrait.
This was basically a favor to my mother plus an excuse to get some shots of Isobel with my cousin’s daughter Victoria plus their new baby Sam. I’m not one for traditional family portraits, especially when so many studios take terrible photos that I later have to retouch in Photoshop because they didn’t bother to white balance or the damn thing’s too dark. But it was for the family so we got dressed up and took one for the team.
In honor of the occasion I tried to wear cute shoes. This is a big deal for me, as I suffer from often severe Crohn’s-related arthritis. This means I can’t stand for extended periods of time and walking sometimes gives me trouble. I used to wear boots every day but now I’m forced to wear sneakers. I keep a small selection of heels in my closet that I wore in happier times. I just can’t make myself get rid of them.
Yesterday I (literally) dusted them off and tried them on. They were as cute as I remembered them. Oh! the longing for cute shoes. It never really goes away.
However, guess what else doesn’t go away? The pain! Ah yes, I remember you. Bitch.
I wore the heels maybe 15 minutes before I just couldn’t do it anymore and switched to some mary jane flats. Even then I was in pain all night and into today. C’est la vie. Or fuck it. Whatever. Plenty of people have it way worse than me.
Isobel was a champ for pictures. She’s a total ham and my mother must have told the photographer at least a thousand times that Isobel is the most photographed baby in the universe. I tried to explain that was an exaggeration but it would have looked pretty hypocritical of me, seeing as how I was taking her picture at that very moment.
She smiled with no prompting and nearly fell off the platform laughing at the photographer. He was trying desperately to make baby Sam smile or at least look in his direction, but Isobel thought his act was all for her. She was belly laughing so hard we all started laughing. It was too much. The photographer said she was an extremely easy baby to photograph and everyone commented on what a cutie she is. I know, I know, I’m an insufferable mother bragging about her adorable child, it’s awful, but have you seen my baby?!
Afterward we waited in a courtyard for our ‘buying session’ and Isobel shocked us all by immediately peeing through her diaper. As I sat there, slack-jawed and bug eyed I thought to myself how grateful I was that this happened right then and not while in my lap for the family portrait.
My Mom got to work hosing off the courtyard and we whisked Isobel off to the trunk of the Buick, which is our preferred changing area when we’re on the go. Do other people do this? Our trunk is large and deep and safe and relatively clean. Also protected from both sun and wind. I don’t know if I made this up or heard about it somewhere but it makes me feel like a genius. Change your baby in your trunk, people! It’s awesome.
We still had time to kill so Isobel taught herself how to climb up and then go down a slide without assistance. We were there watching (hovering, maybe) over her in case of accidents, but she did just fine and had a blast going down that slide. She’s becoming a little girl before our very eyes.