There is some sort of unwritten rule in the Olis house that the day of family pictures will, in fact, be a day of complete and total chaos. Somehow, some way, Erin manages to turn my frazzled-to-the-core, nerves-shot-to-hell-and-back self and turn our family pictures into magic. It truly is gift- I have no idea how she does it, but she does.
Perhaps she has patience, which I do not.
Or, perhaps, she has has much more sense than me. Perhaps the fact that she is not pregnant, and forgetful or simply not crazy-- as I tend to be lately.
On the day of our crazy-as-crap Christmas pictures, I thought it would be okay to pack as many activities into one day as feasibly possible. Thinking I could apply makeup in the car, change clothes in the car-- all the while keeping my sanity in tact.
I ended up locking my makeup, my clothes and Wyatt's second outfit in another vehicle. Forty minutes away, with less than an hour until our proposed photo shoot. I panicked, I cussed in front of my mother-in-law, screamed at my husband and had a slight breakdown (which I am now blaming on my overwrought hormone levels). All in all, not my finest moment. Oh and the tooth. This is going to require a post in and of itself- but my sweet child lacked a front cuspid on the day of our scheduled pics. God help us all. It was stacking up to be the worst photo experiment of my life. But come hell or high water, I was not rescheduling.
Wyatt's outfit was too big (bought a year ago... didn't think to try it on). I didn't have another option. I had to make a mad dash into Target to find something other than a bright yellow Polo to wear. I was sweating like.. well... a pregnant girl in the middle of September in Alabama.
Anyways, you get the drift. By the time I got to Erin, I was about in tears for the third time.
I think the results are pretty good...
....Like I said, magic...
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