Waiting for Special Moments

I like to say that I enjoy photography as a hobby.  Really, this means I like to take pictures of my kiddos.  Unfortunately, with the exhaustion of a third pregnancy in 100+ degree heat in the 8th and 9th month, I realized I went a whole month without taking a picture of my lovelies with a real camera.  Shameful, hmm?  Yep.  I had fallen into the trap of only taking pictures of "special occasions,"  definitely contradictory to the thought that life happens in the in-between moments.  So yesterday morning, I brought out the real camera to capture some lazy Saturday morning moments.

Elliott told me they were having a camp-out, hence the pillow & blue blank. 

I think he learned this pose from Glammy.  It's her go-to photograph pose.  

I love this picture.  Not modest of me at all, but I still am entranced.  

She's very serious about her playtime.

Check-out those crazy curls.  We're on experiment #4 of what I fear will be hundreds of taming solutions.

 

It was a good morning.  Simple fun.  No special occasion.  Just one of those magical hours that remind you of the importance of joy and how 'nothing special' can be the most special of all.  

When You're Married to a Bald Guy. . .

There are things that seem like common sense, but then you realize maybe not so much.  The latest was this week when, for the first time we were forced to use conditioner on Brook-Brook's hair.  She has some serious ratty-frizzy-turned-curly hair on the back of her head.  The matted-hair-look is not in, so conditioner it is.  Well, since I'm roughly the size of a blimp (as noted by the repeated "How many babies are you having?" comments), Chris was in charge of conditioner administration because blimp-people don't reach into a tub so well.  Imagine my surprise when he vigorously scrubbed the conditioner into her hair, only furthering the matted-hair situation.  I put the brakes on that and he turned to me saying, "Oh.  I've never used conditioner before."

Being that the girl inherited her ratty-frizzy-turned-curly hair from me, I could only stare in confusion.


P.S.  If you're married to a bald guy and the shower drain is stopped up, it's always your fault.  Always.  Even when you hate drain hair more that just about anything.