Posts Tagged ‘things I hate’

Yelling At A Kid Doesn’t Make You A Hero

Wednesday, July 22nd, 2015

This is not the post I was supposed to be writing today. Right now I am supposed to be taking pictures of my 364-day-old baby so I can post a sweet, heartfelt, sob-worthy birthday post tomorrow when he turns 1. But my baby is blissfully taking a much-needed nap while I get to sit on the couch with a Diet Coke and think about how much needs to be done before his party on Saturday.

Except instead of party planning, I am working myself into a rage for the third time this week over that story out of the diner in Maine. I have spent entirely too much time, energy and furious typing on this story already, so what’s another hour?

Sometimes my children are monsters. I'm sorry.

Sometimes my children are monsters. I’m sorry. But screaming at them is not the answer.

If you have no idea what I’m talking about, you can catch up here on Buzzfeed and also read the mother’s account of what happened here. Do NOT read the comments.

Although I am extremely inclined to believe the family over the diner owner, I cannot prove anything one way or another. Even in this age of social media and cell phone videos as far as I know there isn’t any footage to confirm or deny the length of the tantrum. I’ve already word-vomited my feelings about that part of the story all over Facebook, much to the distress of some of my friends’ friends who insist I can’t possibly know what I’m talking about because THEY SEE parents being bad parents ALL THE TIME. I actually hardly ever see anyone being a terrible parent and can’t remember any time vividly enough to recount it for you now. Maybe I’m not observant or maybe my threshold for “terrible parenting” is just wicked high after having three kids. But if that is something ALL these internet commenters experience ALL the time, I cannot deny it happens.

So I give up on all my previous statements, assumptions and conclusions. You are right, people of the internet. Maybe these parents were incredibly neglectful, lazy and selfish and their monster of a toddler screamed at the top fo her lungs for 40 minutes, ruining everyone else’s morning. They are horrible and completely in the wrong for not taking their kid out of the restaurant.

But the part I absolutely WILL NOT concede is that the diner owner should be congratulated or treated as some sort of hero, standing up for the rights and eardrums of all the polite, respectable people who all seem to have raised their children without a single mistake ever or who are doing us all a favor by not having children in the first place.

I will cut a paste a few congratulatory comments so you don’t have to read all 1,000+ of them yourself.

“LOL I really like this owner!”

“owner did the right thing. that’s it!”

“I think the owner had every right when the parents r sitting there making everyone pay for their child’s temper tantrum. If u can’t control a Whiney kid….Stay the hell home! When I go out the last thing I want to listen to is a whaling brat!”

“Ugh. I’d have thanked her right then. Take your shrieking spawn outside please.”

“Restaurant owner is right. Dumbass mother is wrong. Case closed.”

“As for the owner, I applaud her. Simply put, her restaurant, her rules. It doesn’t necessarily matter if she has kids of her own or not either. She acted perfectly fine.”

“I give the owner support for her so-called rude response…apparently that’s the only way to get thru to the parents…the child had given a pure example of that truth! 40 minutes of ignoring your child is rude …BE A PARENT!”

Let me just be clear here: yelling at a kid in this situation does not make you a hero.

Do you know what makes you a hero in this situation? Kindness.

Kindness, patience and sympathy, which all seem to be rarer than unicorns these days. I feel extremely lucky that most of my interactions on a daily basis fall into the “polite indifference” section of the grid rather than “angry hostility” or “crazy screaming person” areas. I appreciate anyone who lets me just go about my parenting and life business without instantly writing me and my kids off as brats, jerks, whiners, life-ruiners who don’t really deserve to be out in public at all.

My heroes are the people who help when they don’t have to. The waitress who sees that I am struggling to keep my toddler in his high chair long enough to eat my meal and brings him apple slices to gnaw on is a hero. The cashier at the grocery store who starts to talk to my whining 4-year-old to distract her is a hero. The nurse at my doctor’s appointment who holds my baby for me so I can get changed is a hero. The lady at the beach who shares her snacks with my kids so they don’t have a hunger meltdown after all the snacks I brought have run out is a hero. My definition of hero here is pretty low, but in all those situations I am as grateful as if they had saved me from drowning. In a way, that is exactly what they are doing.

Those people are heroes because not only are they doing me a huge favor and embodying the idea that it takes a village, they are demonstrating in a real, tangible way to my kids what good behavior looks like. Instead of reacting to anger and frustration with anger and frustration, they are living proof being kind and calm is a real solution. “Oh!” thinks my kid, “She is trying to communicate without throwing a fit! Maybe I should also try that!”

That is how you turn irrational, screaming babies into full-sized good people. You model the behavior you want them to emulate, in private, in public and in diners. It can take a while, years even, but there isn’t really another option. I work really, really hard every waking hour of my day to give my kids the life skills, language and emotional maturity to one day be someone’s employee, boss, wife, husband, neighbor or friend. It is a fact of human survival that babies and children are necessary to create full-grown adults, so we need to allow for them to exist, even if sometimes they are awful. Kindness is how we teach them not to be so awful.

If you tell me that because these are not YOUR kids and YOU didn’t choose to bring them into this world you have no responsibility or obligation to help me teach them to be kind, I cannot argue with you. That is totally true. You are not obligated to do any parenting, so please enjoy doing things like sleeping in, going to brunch and yelling at whoever you want. But try to remember that you – YES YOU – were once a child. If your mother or father is available, call them up and ask them to tell you about their absolute WORST parenting moment. Maybe they can remember a time someone was kind to them while they were struggling, and the next time you encounter a horrible child in public you can pay that act of kindness forward.

No, you do not have to go above and beyond for me just because I have kids. No, I am not asking for special treatment. It is just so disheartening to think that so many people hate my family just because we exist in public spaces, we have bad days, and sometimes we make noise. I swear I am doing the best that I can to raise my tiny humans into people you would be happy to sit next to in a diner. If you can show them a little kindness, you can be a hero.

I’ve been staring at this for 15 minutes now, trying to decide if it’s worth hitting publish when I am fairly certain I’ll get yelled at for my post about not yelling at people. If you feel the need to comment or share, please be kind and give me and my commenters the benefit of the doubt when it comes to judgment, entitlement, parenting styles and anything else.

Related posts:

The Jeopardy theme songs won't stop playing in my head
Not A Year End Wrap Up Post
Face It

Let’s Talk About Inner Thigh Rub

Wednesday, May 27th, 2015

My thighs rub together. Even when I was thin and did 10 hours of pilates a week and could wear crop tops with confidence my thighs still touched when I walked. My thighs will always touch because my skeleton is held together with muscles and tendons in such a way that my thighs do not have a gap between them. I’m absolutely fine with that.

LINC THIGHS

All-caps THIGHS run in our family, but Linc’s make a way cuter photo than mine do

But no matter how at peace I am with my thighs, the truth is when they rub together it hurts. If you don’t have that problem, it’s hard to explain just how painful and unpleasant inner thigh rub can be. SO unpleasant. Inner thigh rub is why you see women wearing jeans even when it’s 100 degrees outside. It’s why women wear ugly, unflattering shorts instead of cute skirts. It’s why I have to know BEFORE getting dressed if we’re going to be doing a lot of walking. Unplanned 5-mile stroll in inappropriate shoes? Meh. Unplanned 5-mile stroll in a dress with nothing underneath? AGONY.

You would think that because this is a fairly common problem it would be super easy to find a solution. There should be something foolproof, easy to buy,  and cheap that is sold right next to dresses and skirts at the store. I assume that isn’t the case because thigh rub is a “fat” person problem and just like plus sized clothes are harder to find, anyone whose thighs touch should similarly have to be inconvenienced to deal with it. Or maybe I just shop at the wrong stores. But I am here to SOLVE everyone’s inner thigh rub problems with a multitude of options.

In a loose order of least to most effective, I present Thigh Rub Solutions:

1. BodyGlide – This is the original stuff, the kind actual runners use for chafing. It’s…ok. But in my experience it rubs off long before I am done walking. It does work great on bras or sundress straps or other smaller body parts.

2. Monistat Soothing Care Chafing Relief Powder Gel – This is essentially BodyGlide for non-runners. It works medium well, but I still feel like I have to toss it in my purse and bring it with me in case it rubs off. It actually makes me feel thinner – I’m so carefree! My thighs don’t hurt at all! Look at me float! – so that’s a plus.

3. Assets (Fake Spanx) – These are the Target brand of official Spanx and they work about half as well as real Spanx when it comes to sucking everything in. They work well at stopping thigh rub, but since they do MORE than that they are not my favorite. They’re pretty hot and don’t have the access that Spanx do. (If you have never seen real Spanx, I will decode that for you: access = hole for peeing.) That means you have to peel them on then peel them off then peel them on again, which is unpleasant when you’re hot. ALSO, I had a pair that got a hole right in the thigh-rubbing area which meant one tiny section of my chubby thigh poked through and rubbed extra hard and it was 1000% worse than just regular thigh rub. Also, they’re the second most expensive option, right behind…

4. Spanx – If you want to look thinner, smoother and fancy, Spanx are the right choice. Spanx will suck you in and smooth you out and if you buy the long version they will stop thigh rub so well your thighs might actually stop touching all together.  If it’s 90 degrees out and you just want to wear a skirt to stay cool they are NOT the best choice. You cannot relax in Spanx. I can barely sit down in Spanx. Spanx are not breathable (despite the pee hole) and there is a pretty good chance wearing Spanx for several days in a row will give you a UTI. Save your Spanx for wedding receptions and high school reunions and don’t suffer all summer.

5. Jockey Skimmies Slipshorts – I actually have two different versions of these, the regular and the wicking. The wicking version doesn’t have seams right on the inner thigh, so they couldn’t split/cause irritation there, but I didn’t notice the seams on the regular pair either. They are the BEST solution I’ve found for thigh-rub. I wore a skirt to NYC for the New York Baby Show. We walked ALL day. It was warm. I wore Linc almost the entire time. But these were super comfortable, prevented any rubbing and didn’t give me a UTI. I only had to adjust a couple of times – mostly after going from sitting for a long time to standing – and they didn’t stretch out. They don’t suck anything in but they do smooth and make jersey fabric fall much more flatteringly (WordPress says that’s a word). I bought mine at JC Penny’s in person during a sale, so they were about $15 each, which seems like the right price point for something I’m going to wear ALL summer.

Alternative solution: Wear cute pants instead – I know this is not a real suggestion to solve the thigh rub problem in a skirt, but I really really want to tell you about these pants. The other day Evan’s young female bus driver told me I was “always dressed so nice”. Since I often get Evan off the bus in my slippers, I was a little baffled until I realized I had been wearing my new Old Navy pants almost every day. I am still not convinced they are not ridiculous looking and all my friends are lying to me, but they are wicked comfortable and nice and cool and dry quickly even if you walk into a lake to fetch your baby. I have them in black print and blue print and I’m going to buy them in plain black as well.

I assume everyone who wears skirts has their own solution to this problem; they just don’t really TALK about it. So feel free to share your miracle solutions in the comments so I can try them. In the meantime, I will be wearing my Skimmies, my possibly ridiculous pants and hanging out in the lake, where thigh rub doesn’t exist. Welcome Summer!

Non-disclosure disclosure: None of these are affiliate links, feel free to click through and buy or not buy whatever you want freely. I’m really just too lazy to bother.

Related posts:

The kind of kid I want
No, I do not have gout
Organizing Fail

Dance Mom

Tuesday, July 1st, 2014

Caroline had her first ballet recital on Friday night. She’s taken 13 weeks of classes and she’s only three and half, which means about 75% of the performance was her staring into the wings to watch the teacher and 25% was her screaming the words to “Deep In The Heart Of Texas” with a giant, dramatic point at the audience for every “Texas!!!!!!!”

summer 2014 dance recital-8

summer 2014 dance recital-11

summer 2014 dance recital-13

That was pretty standard for the entire class, although there were a couple of girls who you can imagine on So You Think You Can Dance in 15 years (or whatever the 2030 equivalent is – So You Managed  To Not Let Technology and Common Core Ruin Your Life And Are Capable Of Expressing Emotion With Your Movement Directly Into Our Brains??). They’ll say things like “I’ve always loved being on the stage” and “I can just feel the music and connect with it naturally.”

Caroline will probably not be that girl. I mean, this is a really early prediction and far be it from me to crush her dreams in any way and if she wanted to spend the next decade in dance classes I will be NOTHING but supportive. But I do not thing dance is going to be her thing.

Dress rehearsal was…long. And a little stressful. The class is through a local town’s parks & rec department but the instructor REALLY wants the kids to do a good job so she can be capital-I Intense. There may have been some yelling because the 3 year olds didn’t have the laces on their ballet shoes tucked in. There was some public scolding about an improper hair clip. The teacher is basically a SAINT for dealing with. like, 100 kids whose parents don’t care enough to pay for fancy dance but want a recital anyway, but even saints lose their shit a little bit right before curtain.

By the end of rehearsal, when all Caroline had left to do was the Hokey Pokey with the rest of the little kid classes, she lost it. She was the kid – the only kid – who ran off stage crying that she wanted her mommy and didn’t like dance anymore. I left Evan to misbehave in the audience while I tried to coax Caroline back on stage.

When I say “coax”, I mean I tried every single thing I could think of that didn’t involve physically dragging her on stage and leaving her there. I told her she needed to be a big girl. I told her she could quit if she wanted to and we could go home. I told her she was being ridiculous. I promised her ice cream if she would JUST STOP freaking out. I told her everyone got scared before they went on stage and it was totally OK and I loved her no matter what. I told her dancing was FUN and she LOVED dancing and why didn’t she want to do some FUN DANCING on the stage?

I don’t really know what my parenting style might be called, but it is definitely not “consistent”. I have no idea what I am doing.

The next night, before the actual performance, she threw a fit again. I was supposed to drop her off with her class back stage but every time I tried to leave her eyes filled with tears. There was an incident with her hair bow (apparently it was on the wrong side and needed to be moved despite the fact that no one had EVER said ANYTHING about WHICH SIDE it needed to be on before WHATEVER I DON’T CARE) and she started crying again. I went back to comfort her (mistake!) and she started the clinging/crying/yet insisting she DID want to dance cycle all over.

I left. I sat in the audience with all my crossables crossed that she at least WENT on stage, even if she just stood there.

summer 2014 dance recital-18

summer 2014 dance recital-19

summer 2014 dance recital-21

summer 2014 dance recital-23

And she did great! Once she was out on the stage under the lights she performed and hammed it up and blew kisses. She loved the applause and the cheering and being the center of attention. She did both routines as perfectly as I could have hoped from a 3 year old. It was adorable.

summer 2014 dance recital-16

summer 2014 dance recital-25

summer 2014 dance recital-26

summer 2014 dance recital-27

But even though it ended well, I’m not sure how I feel about signing her for more classes. I don’t want to be the mom who pushes her kid to perform when she doesn’t want to. I didn’t like snapping at her not to mess up her hair or smush her skirt. I am embarrassed that I was embarrassed when she was upset and even though she knows I am SO proud of her I don’t want her to feel disappointed in herself if she messes up. I loved dance class when I was a kid but never really loved the recital part. To this day I have that nightmare where you show up backstage and realize you have NO idea how the routine goes.

I am probably (definitely) overthinking this. Caroline is 3. If she says she wants to take ballet again in the fall, she can take ballet again in the fall. If she DOESN’T want to do the recital next June, she doesn’t have to do the recital. I do not have to have a philosophical discussion with myself over Intro Ballet or Beginner Tap and whether or not I am turning into a crazy Dance Mom after ONE recital. If you ask Caroline right now if she liked performing she will say “YES!” and shout at you about the stars at night and their largeness and brightness. That’s really what matters. But I think I learned something about myself and my parenting I am not sure I’m totally sure I like what I learned.

Let’s ignore my poor parenting and just squee over how adorable my daughter is instead.

summer 2014 dance recital-29

Adorable cowgirl themed finale costume handmade by me…HAHAHAHAHA NO, I bought it on Etsy. I could have tried to find her some jeans and a bandanna but this was easier to do from the couch.

summer 2014 dance recital-30

summer 2014 dance recital-31

summer 2014 dance recital-33

summer 2014 dance recital-34

summer 2014 dance recital-38

summer 2014 dance recital-40

summer 2014 dance recital-41

summer 2014 dance recital-42

summer 2014 dance recital-43

summer 2014 dance recital-44

summer 2014 dance recital-46

summer 2014 dance recital-47

summer 2014 dance recital-49

 

Related posts:

Appointment Update
Baby Face
Support Breastfeeding Honesty

Adventures In Kidney Stones: Sequels Are Never As Good As The Original

Friday, June 13th, 2014

On Wednesday, I wrote a hundred words of a boring, nothing-to-see-here baby update before I lay down on the couch with a pillow over my head and screamed swear words into it until I worked up the energy to go to the Emergency Room.

Pregnancy is fun.

Let’s start this extremely long and health-detail related story at the beginning! At my regular check-up on Tuesday, I mentioned to the OB I didn’t feel great. Nothing was HORRIBLE but I just didn’t feel well. I said I had a vague pain in my left kidney and with my history of stones it made me a little worried. She offered to send me up for an ultrasound, but I said I’d rather just do a test for an infection and see if it got any worse. I spent the rest of Tuesday doing nothing and went to bed early with a headache, but no other symptoms and no more pain.

Wednesday morning I woke up feeling totally fine. I made breakfast! I cleaned (a little)! I bought end-of-the-year teacher gifts for Caroline’s teachers! After school I got both kids to the dentist (where I lied straight to the hygienist’s face and told her I would try to only let Caroline snack once a day) and then we went to swim lessons. Right after I got both kids into their suits and turned them over to their instructor my left side started to hurt. It felt like I was being stabbed. Sitting comfortably in the pool chairs is hard when you’re pregnant, but sitting comfortably in a pool chair while you’re pregnant and being stabbed in the back is impossible.

I got up and paced. I sat down. I leaned forward. I leaned back. Half way through class Evan needed the potty, so I took him upstairs where I leaned against the wall and moaned. Being in pain discretely is hard – I didn’t want anyone to think I was in labor (I knew I was definitely not in labor) – but I managed to have several conversations where no one freaked out and asked if I was OK, so I think I pulled it off. “Why yes, we have greatly enjoyed swim lessons! No, no, I didn’t just lose consciousness for a second, I’m definitely paying attention to you!”

Because I had promised the kids Panera to celebrate the dentist AND the last day of swimming, we went to Panera. I’m guessing I ordered lunch and paid for it, since the cops didn’t show up at the house and the children look well-fed, but I don’t remember any of that either. We made it home. I ate a turkey sandwich but immediately threw it back up, which was when I realized I should probably call the OB.

The OB’s office suggested I just go to the ER to be evaluated, since they had an ultrasound machine and good drugs and could give them to me a lot faster than if I was admitted straight to L&D. I messaged a friend who said she could come over and watch the kids so I didn’t have to take them (THANK GOD) and made it to the hospital, which is luckily less than a mile away. The lady at the check-in desk took one look at me and paged four different people to come help. I got a bed and some water and a nice male nurse who I couldn’t pick out of a line up right now if my life depended on it because SERIOUSLY it hurt SO BAD I don’t remember anything.

I was expecting I’d have to live through a lot of poking and tests before they were willing to give me anything for the pain, but as soon as the ER doctor saw me he said I was crazy for not asking right away. I’ve seen enough medical dramas to know asking for morphine is a good way to get labeled a drug-seeker (Because TV is TOTALLY the same as real life!) and I didn’t want anyone to threaten to call CPS on me (I am not entirely rational when I’m in pain) so I resisted for about 20 seconds. Then it hurt so bad I threw up again and begged for drugs.

10 minutes after the first dose the nurse said “It’s amazing how fast Dilaudid works, isn’t it?” and I said “Are you $%&*ing kidding me?” It took three doses before I felt any better.  It also made me feel totally drunk and loopy and dizzy. I’m extremely surprised I never fell over. I did get rolled down to ultrasound where the tech said she could see stones in my kidneys (both of them, because why half-ass kidney stones?!) but couldn’t see a blockage where I was complaining about the pain. Surprisingly, never once did anyone say “I guess that means you’re OK! Go home!” They ran some more tests that said I had the beginnings of an infection and there was blood in my urine, so in addition to the narcotics I got pumped full of fluids and antibiotics.

At some point I messaged another friend (I didn’t have cell service in the ER but they do have free wifi!) who got a hold of my husband at work and told him I was in the ER. He showed up after the ultrasound but before they admitted me. It turns out extreme kidney pain, probably stones and elevated blood pressure (due ENTIRELY to the pain) at 35 weeks pregnant automatically gets you admitted.

I don’t remember the timeline for any of the rest of the night very well. I do know I couldn’t keep any water down so they gave me zofran (useless) then something for nausea through the IV. It took two more doses of Dilaudid and some heartburn medication but I finally, FINALLY, passed out at 2 am.

I spent all of Thursday lying in bed feeling better and waiting for the urologist to come check me before I lost patience and asked to go home. My nice OB agreed, since if I was feeling well enough to give up the IV drugs I was obviously OK. My kidneys on both sides still hurt a little, but not enough to waste a Percocet. The current plan is to wait out the pregnancy and see if the rest of the stones pass/clear on their own (we’re assuming the one that was stuck last night did)(they’re also assuming I had one, even if it didn’t show on the u/s)(because my doctors are nice and my history supports that theory). If I have more pain or any signs of an infection I have to go back in.

The whole thing is just a terrifying deja vu of what happened with Caroline, except I had NO IDEA what was causing my pain last time and it took almost a full DAY before anyone believed me enough to give me something. I’m going to be careful about drinking more (and then more and more and more) water and avoiding things that make my heartburn so bad I break down and take a Tums. I would also say I’m going to take it easy but there’s just no way. Maybe I’ll put off painting the nursery but I’ve been “putting off” literally every household chore for so long now I have to catch up.

I also missed Caroline’s last day of preschool yesterday. They didn’t do a graduation or a show or anything, so all I REALLY missed was dropping her off and picking her up one last time (and giving her teachers their gifts, which E assures me made it to school but were unfinished so weren’t quite Pinterest-worthy). But I didn’t get to take her last-day picture on her actual last day and I didn’t get to thank the school headmistress for taking care of my baby for the past 2 years. I’ve got 16 more last days before she leaves for college (OMG ONLY 16 MORE LAST DAYS) and hopefully I won’t be in the hospital for any of those.

Today is Evan’s kindergarten orientation where we both get to see his new school for the first time. It’s very Time Marches On, since Time obviously doesn’t care that I’m not READY for kindergarten yet and could he please just take an extended summer vacation for a few months so I can have this baby and recover and THEN I can think about sending my first baby to full time big-kid school. I CANNOT think about kidney stones anymore though, so I fingers crossed I don’t have to.

Related posts:

Faceplant
Story time
WELCOME HOLIDAY SEASON

No One Puts Plus Size Maternity Photos On Pinterest

Monday, June 9th, 2014

While I was at Mom 2.0 at the beginning of May, I ended up in a bunch of photos. And since this is 2014, some of those photos ended up on Facebook. And because it’s Facebook, I ended up tagged, which meant all my friends – from my 4th grade classmates to the girl who lived on my floor in college to my mother’s second cousin who lives in Sweden – saw them.

I did not like it. They were not flattering. They were candid, and that is what I look like in candid photos, but they made me sad.

**insert literally 1000 words I wrote then deleted about how being fat sucks here**

You know what’s a huge waste of my time? Being sad about being fat while pregnant. I feel a compulsive need to mention my doctor is unconcerned – I don’t have high blood pressure or gestational diabetes or any other weight-related complications – so all my sadness is purely vanity-related right now.

I do a lot of maternity photo sessions and my clients are always GORGEOUS. Because that’s who wants maternity photos – people who look adorable even at 8 months pregnant. People who look like me spend 5 minutes on Pinterest and realize no lacy dress and oversized sun hat will ever change the size of their arms or shape of their face. But this is what I look like. This is what I look like right now while growing baby #3 and walking around in the world and there is nothing wrong with wanting photos of myself OR with showing those photos to other people.

It’s like that meme about how to get a bikini ready body: Buy a bikini, put it on your body. Done.

Here’s how to take plus size maternity photos. Be pregnant in front of a camera, get someone to press the shutter button. Done.

Plus-Size Maternity Photos

Plus-Size Maternity Photos

Plus-Size Maternity Photos

Plus-Size Maternity Photos

Plus-Size Maternity Photos

Plus-Size Maternity Photos

Plus Size Maternity Photos

Plus Size Maternity Photos

Plus-Size Maternity Photos

Plus-Size Maternity Photos

Plus-Size Maternity Photos

Plus Size Maternity Photos

Plus-Size Maternity Photos

I owe my husband a huge thanks for helping with these. He very patiently posed for all my pictures so I could adjust the manual camera settings and then I had to explain exactly what I wanted – “The sun should be shining behind us to make haze but not TOO much haze and don’t get the sun actually in the picture and try to get the focus point right on the kids and tell me if my bra is showing [it was ALWAYS showing] and does my arm look OK like this or should I hold it differently?” – and he did all of it standing in the buggy, snakey orchard without complaining. He doesn’t really understand WHY I wanted 400 photos of myself standing in an orchard, but he knew it was important so he helped. He’s a good guy.

Related posts:

The Big 3-0
What If What If
Take Me Out To The Ball Game
Clickin' Moms
Wayfair Homemakers
Get Adobe Flash player