Home-Photographer

Saturday, 07 August 2010

Today we had a photographer come to our home and take some pictures of Isla (and some of Owen, too). Just as I like the idea of having midwives come to our home for appointments, I also like the idea of a photographer bringing all their stuff to us. It’s a good idea, if you think about it, ‘cause then the kids don’t get all cranky from having to get in the car and go somewhere. And if Owen got hungry, or Isla spit up on her outfit – no problem! Just go take care of it.

The photographer, Tami, decided the best lighting was actually in one of the stairwells of our apartment building, so we set up camp, with backdrops, props, chairs, tripods, and camera equipment right there in the hallway. A few people walked by and had to do a double-take, but apart from it being odd that we were hanging out in the hallway, things turned out okay.

I think there was a moment this afternoon, while engaged in the photo-shoot, when I can say that I really, truly became a father to Isla. That moment was when I had to lay on the floor and hold my arms straight out above my head. I held Isla, who was totally nude, in my hands. Tami set up her camera so that only Isla, with my supporting hands, would be in the frame. Well, right as Tami was setting up the shot, Isla decided to poop on me. I don’t know if it really qualifies as poop; it’s more runny mustard, really. Mercifully, none of it got on my face, but it took all my mettle to not put her down immediately and run screaming for help. Instead, I patiently held her there, waiting for Jennifer to take her from me. Then I got up and freaked out. I think we really bonded there.

Here are some of the photos from that day: CLICK THIS.

Sunday, 08 August 2010

Owen was really bored today. I tried explaining to him that it’s the Sabbath, and so we shouldn’t do any work or have any fun, but that argument didn’t go over so well. I considered taking him to the park, but, man, it is really hot and humid outside. Have I complained about the weather here yet?

I took Owen to Target to buy a few items today. While we were standing in line to pay, he looked up at me and said, “Wait, I know something we forgot!”

“What’s that?” I said, figuring he was going to name off some toy or piece of candy.

“Batteries.”

“You’re right,” I said, inexplicably surprised that he was so conscientious. “Let’s go get them.”

I asked the cashier if I could leave our other items sitting there, and she said that was fine. Probably because the guy in front of us was really slow. How slow was he? He was one of those people that didn’t bother to pull out his checkbook until after the total was announced. Man, I thought those people only existed in comedians’ routines. But no – this guy was real. The cashier said something like: “$33.72,” and only then did the guy reach into his pocket and begin to write out his check. Because, you know, there was no way he could have possible known the name of the store, today’s date, OR HIS OWN NAME! Before he knew the total. Also, he had to re-ask the total so that he could enter it in his register AND BEGIN BALANCING HIS ACCOUNT right there. Because, again, you know, it’s not like they give you a receipt with your totally on it. The guy actually turned to me and said: “Sorry for the wait.”

He must’ve been able to tell I was getting antsy. Must be a New Yorker thing. Then I said: “That’s okay.” Oh – that’s another New Yorker thing: I’m really good at lying, too.