First off, my camera battery is drained, and I keep forgetting to charge it.
Second off, doesn't it seem like MOST of life is completely un-photographable?
My baby falls asleep in my lap most nights, cuddled up against my chest, head turned up toward my face. I love his sweet little baby breath on my chin, and how at 11 months old he still just smells milky and sweet. I love how his little lips are parted, and his cheeks are flushed. Try and take a photo of that, without making him look like a fluke worm- I dare you. I certainly can't do it!
We went to IHOP tonight. Let me back up- my Ernie LOVES eating at restaurants. There have been times when she's asked daily (multiple times each day, even) if we could eat at such and such, or here, or there....we promised her that WHEN DADDY FOUND A NEW JOB, we would all go out for dinner. Some place nice. "Like IHOP?!?!?!" Umm. Sure. Yes. IHOP is exactly what I had in mind.
So. Sunday we got our first snow of the season- the city ground to a halt after the first 1/4". (Yes, we got three messages from church folks that church was cancelled.) It's now Monday night, it's colder than snot outside, and we are at IHOP. The restaraunt is deserted except for one lone man, but the hostess seats us way in the back corner. My girls have snagged two of the (nasty, grody, I can't believe they're touching that before eating) toys from the toy table. Our coats are a mountain in one corner of the booth. Cocoa is making his terrific "aaaaaaAAAAAA......aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAA" noise while head banging in his high chair. Mimi is wearing pants a full five inches too short, and a purple dress up dress that's more hole than dress at this point. Oh, and her hair is a mess. Ernie sits down and announces she's ill, so she's laying prostrate on her part of the bench. I'm in velour sweat pants that refuse to ever stay where I put them on my waist, so I keep convulsively pulling up my waist band and tugging down my t-shirt. Oh yeah, and I'm wearing a tank top, a t-shirt, a cropped cable knit cardigan, and an oversized (shapeless) tunic length wool cardigan. And it's missing buttons. (I thought we were snowed in today! My one pair of jeans is in the wash.) The girls keep announcing they need to go use the bathroom, so we parade out and back through the dining area, repeatedly.
The food arrives, hooray! The girls both ordered chocolate pancakes that are nearly bigger than their dinner plates, with cheery whipped cream faces. Mimi takes five bites and declares she's done, Ernie eats hers with gusto, then downs Mimi's. Cocoa takes a few nibbles of my pancake, then starts screeching to get out of his chair. By this time, Ernie's face is kind of alarming in its wildness: the sugar and excitement of being at a restaurant are catching up with her.
The next time we see the waitress, we beg for our check- just let us pay you now, because as soon as we're done with our food, we are RUNNING out that door. She laughs, and brings us the check- Wonder Daddy throws his credit card at her before she can leave again.
I know my kids can be angels at restaurants- Cocoa always comes with Wonder Daddy and I when we go out together, and it's never a problem. I know the girls can be just fine. But tonight? Oh no. Tonight was not fine.
We all finish up our dinners, and head home- I run the bath water before the girls even finish coming up the stairs. Bath time! Cocoa is happy not taking a bath, but soon coughs his way into needing a costume change, and I throw him in the tub with the girls.
We all read scriptures and hear the girls prayers, and Wonder Daddy reads them another few pages of Harry Potter (we've been at it for a few years now, and I'm not sure they're past chapter 4. I'm not too concerned about reading anything too scary while they're still young ;)
The girls are in bed, and Cocoa keeps wandering to the front room and crying. Sobbing. We realize it's because we've blocked access to Daddy's guitars- the boy is desperate to play on the strings, like his daddy lets him do sometimes. Sorry bud. Wonder if we should get him a ukulele for his upcoming birthday?
Now it's 9:30, all the kids are asleep, and still I know- I never want to forget these days, but we might not have many photographs to prove it!
Second off, doesn't it seem like MOST of life is completely un-photographable?
My baby falls asleep in my lap most nights, cuddled up against my chest, head turned up toward my face. I love his sweet little baby breath on my chin, and how at 11 months old he still just smells milky and sweet. I love how his little lips are parted, and his cheeks are flushed. Try and take a photo of that, without making him look like a fluke worm- I dare you. I certainly can't do it!
We went to IHOP tonight. Let me back up- my Ernie LOVES eating at restaurants. There have been times when she's asked daily (multiple times each day, even) if we could eat at such and such, or here, or there....we promised her that WHEN DADDY FOUND A NEW JOB, we would all go out for dinner. Some place nice. "Like IHOP?!?!?!" Umm. Sure. Yes. IHOP is exactly what I had in mind.
So. Sunday we got our first snow of the season- the city ground to a halt after the first 1/4". (Yes, we got three messages from church folks that church was cancelled.) It's now Monday night, it's colder than snot outside, and we are at IHOP. The restaraunt is deserted except for one lone man, but the hostess seats us way in the back corner. My girls have snagged two of the (nasty, grody, I can't believe they're touching that before eating) toys from the toy table. Our coats are a mountain in one corner of the booth. Cocoa is making his terrific "aaaaaaAAAAAA......aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAA" noise while head banging in his high chair. Mimi is wearing pants a full five inches too short, and a purple dress up dress that's more hole than dress at this point. Oh, and her hair is a mess. Ernie sits down and announces she's ill, so she's laying prostrate on her part of the bench. I'm in velour sweat pants that refuse to ever stay where I put them on my waist, so I keep convulsively pulling up my waist band and tugging down my t-shirt. Oh yeah, and I'm wearing a tank top, a t-shirt, a cropped cable knit cardigan, and an oversized (shapeless) tunic length wool cardigan. And it's missing buttons. (I thought we were snowed in today! My one pair of jeans is in the wash.) The girls keep announcing they need to go use the bathroom, so we parade out and back through the dining area, repeatedly.
The food arrives, hooray! The girls both ordered chocolate pancakes that are nearly bigger than their dinner plates, with cheery whipped cream faces. Mimi takes five bites and declares she's done, Ernie eats hers with gusto, then downs Mimi's. Cocoa takes a few nibbles of my pancake, then starts screeching to get out of his chair. By this time, Ernie's face is kind of alarming in its wildness: the sugar and excitement of being at a restaurant are catching up with her.
The next time we see the waitress, we beg for our check- just let us pay you now, because as soon as we're done with our food, we are RUNNING out that door. She laughs, and brings us the check- Wonder Daddy throws his credit card at her before she can leave again.
I know my kids can be angels at restaurants- Cocoa always comes with Wonder Daddy and I when we go out together, and it's never a problem. I know the girls can be just fine. But tonight? Oh no. Tonight was not fine.
We all finish up our dinners, and head home- I run the bath water before the girls even finish coming up the stairs. Bath time! Cocoa is happy not taking a bath, but soon coughs his way into needing a costume change, and I throw him in the tub with the girls.
We all read scriptures and hear the girls prayers, and Wonder Daddy reads them another few pages of Harry Potter (we've been at it for a few years now, and I'm not sure they're past chapter 4. I'm not too concerned about reading anything too scary while they're still young ;)
The girls are in bed, and Cocoa keeps wandering to the front room and crying. Sobbing. We realize it's because we've blocked access to Daddy's guitars- the boy is desperate to play on the strings, like his daddy lets him do sometimes. Sorry bud. Wonder if we should get him a ukulele for his upcoming birthday?
Now it's 9:30, all the kids are asleep, and still I know- I never want to forget these days, but we might not have many photographs to prove it!
1 comment:
Sounds like a perfect night. :-)
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