Of course, we were running late. I had woken Ronnie up and asked him if he wanted to go to the store to get milk or give Mellie a bath (we had made the trek to Ronnie's home town of Ganado the night before for a high school football game and had not gotten home until late, so Mellie didn't get a bath. Amusingly, though, we made the drive to see Ganado, a little 1A school, play George Ranch, a local 4A high school that was new enough to not even have a senior class yet. When we arrived, we discovered it was Homecoming, which was nice. I was puzzled when I saw the away stands full of blue instead of Maroon for George Ranch. I happen to know their colors because they are the Longhorns, and it amuses me to no end that they are also Aggie Maroon. Ha ha! So, long story short, they were playing TIDEHAVEN instead of George Ranch. George Ranch wasn't until the following week.). Anyhow, Ronnie chose to go to the store. So, I took the baby upstairs, started her bath running, got her undressed and undiapered, and proceeded to give her a bath. I let her play for a while before draining the water and wrapping her up in a fuzzy ducky towel. When I came out of the upstairs bathroom, what did I see? My naked as a jaybird husband running across the house. HE HADN'T EVEN LEFT FOR THE STORE YET! I sighed quietly, thinking about how I look forward to the day when Mellie is old enough that he can't run around naked anymore and took her into her bedroom to lotion her up, brush her (scant) hair, diaper her, and get her dressed into the cute little denim dress I wanted her to wear for the photo shoot.
The little denim dress came with multi-colored leopard print bloomers which had a matching sash. There are also several peace signs embroidered onto the dress. It was a gift from Aunt Dina (one of my friends) for her birthday, and I just loved it. Unfortunately, I had a heck of a time getting the darn thing over her head. It was denim, like I mentioned, and only had three snaps in front to make it loose enough to get it on. Except, that wasn't enough. So, I struggled to get the dress on while Mellie tried just as hard to get it off as I was hampering her attempts to play in her toy box. Finally, I got the dress on along with a pair of socks, and some shoes. I gather her along with the outfit I want her to change into and some props and we head downstairs. By now, Ronnie has finally left, but he certainly isn't back yet. I take the time to get dressed myself, using the extra time to take special care on my makeup and hair.
So, now I am done getting ready, with no sign of the husband. I get some snacks together, and make sure we have everything we need for our excursion. Check, check, and check. I find some appropriate cover-up for the little bruise/scratch she has under her eye and work some magic. Do I have her "I am one" onesie? Check. What about the purple tutu and matching suede shoes? Check. Husband? Ummm... No. So, I take Mellie to sit in the backyard so we will hear Ronnie pull up. Plus, Mellie loves to be outside, and the weather is actually pleasant for once. My phone rings. It's dear husband. "What kind of coffee do you want?" Instant fury on my part! We have twelve minutes to get there, he isn't home yet, and he's buying coffee? I quickly weight the option of yelling and throwing myself on a sword for the cause, but I know he's still going to get coffee for himself, and I would like a cup myself. "A vanilla latte, please." "Are you sure you don't want this salted caramel mocha?" (or whatever it was called) "WHATEVER JUST GET ME SOMETHING!!!" Click.
Did I mention that I get anxious when I am running late? Maybe not to y'all, but I have told him a hundred times. Finally, he is home, we are all packed up and heading to the mall. I'm FURIOUS, and I haven't taken a sip of my coffee for fear of messing up my lipstick that I so artfully applied. "I don't understand why you are so upset. It's not like they aren't going to see us because we're late" he tells me. "BECAUSE BEING LATE MAKES ME ANXIOUS!" "Really?" is his response, like I haven't ever bothered to mention this. You would think that someone who also struggles with anxiety would bother to recall something like that. So, I pick up the phone and call the portrait studio, worried that they will cancel our appointment, or worse, that they are just sitting there waiting for us, and attempt to explain that we are running late. They are slightly rude to me, and I get the feeling that they didn't actually have us on the books, despite the fact I scheduled on the internet like two days ago. After hanging up, I start getting more anxious. Afterall, the e-mailed promotion said it was only good for the first fifty customers. And, they hadn't called to discuss the sitting. They've always called in the past. Oh no, what if they don't honor the promotion? Finally, I reach down and succumb to the delicious coffee. I try to be careful so I will not mar my lipstick - which results in a giant splatter of coffee all over my blouse! No time to turn back, no money to buy a new top when we arrive.
We finally arrive, and they assure us that they are offering the promotion to everyone, not just the first fifty customers. I am relieved. Mellie is in a good mood, and I am cautiously optimistic. There are some kids around, and they take an interest in her. I try to warn them that she can be mean, but they don't listen to me. Fortunately, Mellie decides to be nice. She watches them play with some toys. The older boy even goes so far to tell me later that he likes my daughter. Clearly, there is something wrong with him. I thank him as my polite southern upbringing dictates, but I am more suspicious of him and his well-behaved siblings.
The photographer sets us up in the room, suggesting a brown backdrop which I readily agree to. She is nice, she took our Christmas photos, and I am pleased that she is taking our pictures again. As she is setting up some stools for our family photos, Ronnie's phone rings and he wonders off to answer. I inform the photographer about the coffee spill, and she tells me that it's ok, we will put the baby in front of the stain. I thank her profusely. She's ready for the photos, but where is my husband? Still on the phone. Damn! Mellie is busy climbing all over a little wicker like chair that she has found that is just her size. The photographer decides to start with pics of Mellie instead, and removes the stools, bringing the little wicker chair for Mellie. This is about the time that Ronnie shows back up.
Mellie had been happily climbing all over this chair. Sitting in it, climbing out, climbing back in, etc. I get her stuffed lion and sock monkey that I brought as props, and sit on the ground next to her in the chair. She promptly has a meltdown. The photographer jumps up and down and does cartwheels and about everything else that can be expected to get her to a). look at her and b). smile without much luck. I'm terribly puzzled as anytime I am taking pictures, Mellie becomes the biggest ham. I have a bazillion pictures of her looking at the camera and smiling so big her eyes close. Here, like this:
The photographer decides to take a break from that and we get some family pictures, with Mellie artfully arranged so she covers the spilled coffee. She does much better in these pictures, which I expected. The photographer then directs me to change her into her second outfit.
While I am changing Mellie, the photographer changes the background to a solid white one and puts a little pseudo staircase up for a prop. Mellie is now dressed in her white "I am one" onesie with a purple tutu and purple suede shoes. We put her on the prop and again, I am seated nearby. She has a meltdown, even worse than the first one.
I don't know if you can tell, but there is a giant tear slowly running down her face, and I think the look on her face about communicates it all. We are done. The photographer sets us up at a computer, shows us the shots, and talks to us about packages (we all know that the promotion just gets you in the door). We decide on a package, but we are having trouble choosing shots and prints. When she comes back to check on us, we explain our trouble as there are not many good shots. She suggests we schedule another shoot and add more shots. We readily agree and schedule for the following Monday afternoon.
Yada yada yada, more adventures on the way home. When we actually GET home, we discover this. God forbid she allow the photographer to take a picture like this!
So, Monday rolls around. I take off work at 3:00 in order to make it there by 4:00. Nothing is ready, including my husband, and by the time we take off to pick Mellie up, it's nearly 4. Of course, much to my dismay, we are late. Again. It's a different photographer, but I have also worked with her in the past and she's nice (although I suspect she was the one who was rude on the phone on Saturday). She does a splendid job of handling the studio all by herself, dealing with a controlling mommy (ahem) and a little girl whose greatest ambition is to not cooperate. The photographer thinks the pop the flash makes scares her, but I know Mellie better. That child is a daredevil, she's not scared of anything.
Eventually, we manage to finish taking shots (I forgot to put on my lipstick this time) and get to selecting photos. Mellie has decided to continue her uncooperative behavior, and we frequently have to stop and chase her through Sears. Once, she found underwear in the little boys department and took great pleasure in ripping packages of Transformers underwear off the rack. That's my girl. Finally, we make our decisions, only to discover the poor photographer is having trouble checking us out.
Sigh. Anyhow, here is the result....
Sorry this post is so rambling. I'm having trouble focusing. Crises abound all around me....
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