Say "Cheese!"

This week, I have no DaycareKid. It's practically a vacation, except that I still have these four kids who actually live here. And no maid.

I made appointments this week, then--this morning, Babygirl had an appointment to have her picture taken and tomorrow, she's going to the doctor for her check-up and vaccinations.

When I opened Babygirl's bedroom door this morning, her eyes were sleepy and her hair was mussed and she stuck her lower lip out unhappily. Normally, she wakes up slowly, I think, and when she's ready to see people, she screams my name, "MOM! MOM!" I went in before that point and she looked at me sadly as I picked her up and said, "Tummy hurt."

Uh-oh. Not a good omen.

I smiled brightly at her and in my most cheery voice chattered as I changed her diaper and put on her tights and gave her a drink of water and told her we were going bye-bye. I did my best not to upset the delicate balance of her toddler world, not an easy task. I ironed her new, pretty pink dress and put an older dress on her so the new dress would stay pressed and clean until we got to the photography studio. Being a girly-girl, Babygirl enjoyed getting on her tights and her shoes and didn't even mind when I wet down her hair to reactivate her curls. She probably would have liked it if I put a little lipstick on her and pierced her ears, too. but I did not. We left right on time. It's my husband's day off, so I left the boys at home.

We arrived exactly on time at the studio. No one else was in the waiting room to my relief. Sometimes we've had to wait and wait until the babies and kids are cranky. This time, fate smiled on me.

Until he walked in, looked at the paper in his hand and said, "This is . . . ?" I said, "Uh, Babygirl?" He said, "Yes." And I said, "Um, is Crystal off today? I thought we'd be having her."

This guy, this photographer, took pictures of YoungestBoy when he was a year old. This man freaked out my boy with his loud voice and his crazy mannerisms and his broad, scary movements. Plus, he has a long gray pony-tail down his back.

He said, "No, she has other appointments today," and I said, "Oh." I thought to myself, I specifically asked for Crystal. Where is my beloved Crystal, my sweet young Crystal with her low-rise pants and her gentle charm? I want Crystal! Then I said, "Okay. Well, my baby will scream in your face. Let's go." I said that in a gentle voice so Babygirl would not be scared.

I told her, "Hey, it's our turn! Let's have our picture taken!" and she followed me, like a lamb to slaughter, to the big scary room filled with props and flowing fabrics and chairs hung on the wall. She was not amused.

She said, "Go home." I said, "First, we're having your picture taken! Won't that be fun?" I raised my eyebrows and grinned at her and she scrunched up her face and said, "No. Mommy chair."

"Mommy chair" is Babygirl code for "I would like to nurse now because I'm feeling sad and scared and maybe just a little crabby." She usually only nurses before she goes to sleep, just a few minutes and I think she'll be fully weaned in the near future. But when she is off-center and feeling needy, she reverts and wants to nurse. Thankful that her phrase for this is "mommy chair" and not something like, "big-big-B00B-B00B," I said, "Yes, I will sit on the chair. And here's the pretty chair for Babygirl!"

I sat her in the white netting canopy on the pink fluffy blanket that Scary Photographer Guy set up for her. She immediately burst into tears. I did my best sweet-talking, but she sobbed. I finally told Scary Photographer Guy, we might just have to take pictures of her crying and call it good. I had my doubts.

I took Babygirl into the little dressing room, nursed her for a few minutes and went back out to find that Scary Photographer Guy had bubbles. Good thinking. He must be brighter than he looks. Babygirl was momentarily distracted and so he snapped a photograph of her--not smiling, but not screaming and wailing and red-nosed. Then she began to cry again.

I calmed her down again in the dressing room and came out to find he'd arranged a new background, this time with wide ribbons and a little blue chair. I talked faster and most convincingly than a car salesman, but Babygirl whimpered and cried big tears. He took four more pictures, but they show only a more and more distraught girl.


(The lower left was the first picture.)

During that time, I said to her, "Hey, want to go shopping when we're done here?" And she said in the saddest possible voice, "Shopping." When we finished, Crystal appeared and said, "If you want, you can schedule another sitting with me." I appreciated the thought, but I don't think so. It's traumatic enough--for both of us--to even get there in the first place.

When we finished, we went over to the mall where I purchased three pairs of size 8 "Husky" jeans and khakis for YoungestBoy. Then I bought Babygirl a little box of Tom Thumb donuts and we went home.

She took a nap, then, to recover from the trauma of having her picture taken. I can only imagine how much she's going to scream tomorrow morning when the seemingly nice nurse plunges needles into Babygirl's legs. And she thought it hurt to have her picture taken! At least she can't dread it. That's my job, the dreading.