A Little Fantasy for My Reality….

Today I am obsessed. Strange, because I just found out about my new obsession last night but I am obsessed with having boudoir pictures taken. I found out that someone we know is a photographer and she is doing beautiful, glamorous pictures of women in various stages of undress. They are so beautiful and well done I am obsessed with having them done! I know it’s odd to have an overnight obsession but it really makes total sense. Believe me, I am fully aware of my physical appearance, and well, lack of fullness but I still think I need to do this. I know that I have the glamorous, sexy body of a thirteen year-old boy but hey, I can at least rock a pair of boy shorts. I think doing something like this will help balance out my life as a hands-on mother of two. Since my day-to-day life isn’t necessarily that glamorous, I think having pictures like this will help me keep a healthy balance and remember that underneath that crust of the morning’s oatmeal on my sleeve there lives a hot-blooded woman.

So, if none other than being totally fun and indulgent, I believe that I, like many other moms need to take a full set of boudoir pictures for the following reasons:

  • There is a distinct possibility that at any given time you may find one or more of the following in my purse: Perry the Platypus’ hat, rocks, dead flowers, and/or used kleenex.
  • I often pee with one child on my lap and the other wanting to know exactly what I am producing. Clearly we have no boundaries.
  • Without a second thought I will use my shirt to wipe my son’s snotty nose.
  • I sleep in the same kind of shirts as my husband.
  • What a better place to hide my child’s booger than in my jeans pocket?
  • There are times while we are watching television that I actually ask Audrey to stop talking just so I can hear what is being said. Look, I haven’t seen an episode of The Real Housewives in so damn long it’s no wonder I want to be sure I don’t miss Sister Bear’s anecdote or what great idea just flew into Thomas’ funnel.
  • Until last week’s purchase, all of my jeans were from before I had Audrey. That makes them over 5 years old. Age isn’t really the biggest issue, though. You see these jeans were from Old Navy and thanks to a good friend who enlightened me that those jeans are actually “gateway” mom jeans. Oh.the.horror.
  • I’m not the least bit embarrassed when I am verbally praised for doing such a good job on the potty. In public.

So do you see why I’m obsessed? Now I just have to find a small window of time when I can get all people big and small out of my house so I can become the woman who my wonderful husband first fell in love with. A few moments in time when no one needs me, no one has to tell me about a boo-boo, and no one needs me to find a missing toy. A few moments to have fun, and well most likely miss them.

Happy Mothering,



A Few Random Thoughts…

Just a few things that have been clouding my brain lately…

  • When shopping for a vacation condo, the descriptions should read something more like this: “Two bedrooms, two baths, with view of the gulf. Gourmet kitchen and luxury bath. Convection microwave  that is certain to confuse the hell out of you. Like pancakes? Try our pillows.”
  • It is only when you being to feel more like your old self and find that inner confidence that you realize you have a glob of dried oatmeal stuck to your bikini top.
  • Why is the dishwasher ALWAYS full of clean dishes?
  • I think the invention of the ‘Big Gulp’ is where we went wrong, or at least off course. I mean, does anyone really need 64 ounces of any kind of liquid at any one given sitting? 64? I would argue probably not.
  • How does one completely forget how to make dumplings? After three tries I think it’s time to give up.
  • I know it’s totally weird but I like the way my baby’s lovie smells after he’s slept with it all night long. (Yes, I know it’s been drooled on.)
  • No matter how well I have slept the night before, at any given time during the day I am at least a little bit tired.
  • Even tired, there are times at any given point in the day when I feel a flutter of happiness and I can hear my heart whisper, “I love my life.”

Happy Mothering,



Our Picture Perfect Life….Sort Of

Just as I entered motherhood feeling totally unprepared, I too enter the world of blogging totally unprepared. How often should I write? What is too much? Not enough? I think I will take the same perspective I do when it comes to potty training my daughter. I tell her, “Let’s just sit on the potty and see what happens.” So, I will write when it feels right and just see what happens…

So, yesterday I wrote a check to the photographer for $203 for pictures that are, at best, okay. His work is great, don’t get me wrong, it’s the subjects that leave room to be desired. My daughter, as beautiful as she is, wouldn’t so much as crack a smile. In no way was she buying into the giggles, jingling, and “show me your princess smile” being energetically yelled from the photographer and his assistant. She wasn’t going to budge. One photo, in particular she is giving such a distasteful look I dubbed it, “Mean Joe Green.” Of course I ordered a copy. I had to. I had to have living proof that she could grimace with such expression at such a young age.

So as I was reviewing these pictures I thought about how my perspective has changed so much in less than two years. When my daughter was first born there was definitely a sense of wanting all outward appearances to be just right. Especially since she was a girl. I wanted everything to look perfect. Yeah right. I remember our first Santa picture like it was yesterday. She was not quite a year old and we set off to the mall to take what I certainly knew was going to be the perfect Santa picture.

I have such a wonderful mother. As a baby and young child she made many of my clothes. She is so talented. Her work as a drapery designer has landed her jobs for a few famous people that will remain unnamed. Anyway, she kept this green velvet jumper that she made for me to wear one year so of course my daughter wore it for her first Christmas. The green jumper monogrammed with her name, the crisp white shirt with Peter Pan collar, and black patent leather Mary Janes. Sounds perfect right? Did I mention the giant white bow with a green monogrammed initial? Anyway, she sat on Santa’s lap, cried and they snapped the picture. Anyone who has ever taken pictures at the mall can sympathize…we left there paying over $50 for poor quality, over advertised pictures. I couldn’t get past all of the fake snow photoshopped across my daughter’s head. I felt a little defeated when we left. We swore we would not go back to the mall again.

So Christmas year number two rolled around and I was on a hunt to find a great new venue for Christmas pictures. I found out that Santa would be at the new Cabella’s store and the pictures were free! Paydirt! That was our plan. We packed up on what turned out to be a very rainy night to get the perfect Santa picture. You could cut the tension with a knife. I was walking about five paces in front of my husband on a mission to find that free Santa and score a place in line. That would have been fine but there was no line. Just a bunch of people milling around getting on Santa’s lap while an associate from the store snapped pictures with a digital camera. Hmmm…I was going to make the best of it. I had to. I found Santa. He was sitting in a rocking chair in front of a menagerie of taxidermied wildlife. Being that this is south Louisiana, I guess it was appropriate.

As we waited for the child in from of us to finish, my husband looked at me and asked, “What do we do if she starts to cry?” I looked straight at him and said, “We will leave her there.” As if I would take her off just because she was crying. Crying baby Santa pictures are adorable and besides she won’t remember. So we sat her on his lap and to our delight she didn’t cry! Instead she looked right at Santa and said, “Pink bicycle.” A girl who can state what she wants. I’m so proud of her!

Turns out the printer ran out of ink so there were no pictures from me to pick up. I quickly scrolled through my camera (they allowed you to take your won pictures) in hopes that I captured the perfect shot. To my anguish I saw in every picture my daughter’s dress was turned upward to reveal her tights and diaper! “We have to retake them!” I said to my husband and I took another look at the pictures. He kept telling me that it wasn’t a big deal. Well it was a big deal to me! I gave him the cold shoulder and finally demanded that we go back. My daughter, thankfully, happily sat on his lap and my husband fixed her dress with expert precision. I took about four pictures and felt a wave of relief. God I’m nuts….but I know I can’t possibly be the only one.

I doubt my daughter will remember that day but I certainly will. It was tense and I argued with my husband all for the sake of the perfect picture! Four months later we decide to have family pictures taken. The day of I could feel that anxiety rising in me and I had to tame it. I remembered how awful the past photo events were and I didn’t want to relive that.

So we were outside along the lakes close to our Governor’s Mansion sitting in the grass as a family. The photographer and his assistant tried, and tried, and tired to get our daughter to smile but she just wouldn’t budge. She wasn’t the least bit interested in having her picture taken or playing along with these unnecessary games as she saw it. She wanted to feed the ducks and play in the leaves. She wanted to be held my her daddy and see the edge of the water. Do I really need to force this? Is this “perfect” picture really that important? What is the perfect picture anyway?

So, $203 later and I have an 8×10 of my family with a daughter who will not smile, a husband who is craning his neck which makes it look like his one chin multiplied into three, and me, who looks just plain tired. But you know what? This is our family. It may not be a perfect picture, but to me it is the perfect family and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Is it just me? This idea of the perfect image of the perfect life…I don’t get it. Life is not perfect. It’s messy, complicated, and not everyone smiles. I’m working on remembering that each day…it’s really not what the picture looks like in the end…it’s who’s in it and the memories you make taking it.

Happy Mothering!