You know those days where you leave the house with half your closet scattered around your bedroom and bathroom? The days you know that your husband will tread lightly if he sees the wardrobe crisis first hand? Emerson had her first wardrobe crisis today.
A friend suggested I send pictures of the kids to this local photographer to be part of a Pampers photo shoot. I didn't really think anything of it. Clearly my kids are the most beautiful on the planet. I'm their Mom. I am supposed to think, say, shout that from the rooftops. They are.
It's not really my thing.
I put pictures on facebook and email pictures to family and occassionally to friends. I expect my parents to 'ooohh' and 'ahhh' over their grandkids. But I keep my 'aren't my kids amazing, brilliant, beautiful' conversations to myself or have them with the person who helped me create them. If Cannon does something amazing I call my better half to tell him. He too beleives we have created the most perfect children. I don't really tell anyone else and I keep it off the blog because I figure no one cares. Really because I can only read so many blogs about who pooped, smiled, recited the presidents, and walked super early before I vomit.
So I emailed four pictures, two of each kiddo, that I took, to a local photographer. Didn't think anything else of or about it because again, it's not my thing.
Until the phone rang.
They wanted her! My little Emerson! Said Cannon was too old. So I get the call on Saturday and they wanted us today.
I was fairly certain I was going to be one of 700 moms in a hotel banquet room with a crying baby. I was fairly certain it would make me sweat. I was fairly certain they would try to sell me a timeshare while I was there. I was fairly certain they would want to spray tan her or put fake eyelashes on (I watch Toddlers and Tiaras, I know how it works). I was fairly certain this wasn't for real.
But what if it was?
The email asked that we bring a solid colored tshirt for our child to wear. Babies don't wear tshirts. So I dug around last night for a white onesie without a poop stain on it. Easier said than done around here. Judge away.
But what should she wear on top of the onesie, you know, if this was for real. Perhaps the fact that it was a DIAPER photo shoot escaped me. I tore through her closet. First I was going to put her in this adorable plaid jumper with a big matching flower and tights and fancy pants. Then I thought they'd think I was one of those crazy moms who over-does everything. Then I thought I would put her in a sleeper. A day sleeper. You know, a cozy two month old outfit with cute flowers. I'd put a little bow in her hair once we got inside, after I got the monogrammed hat off. Then I decided that would look like I didn't care enough. So finally I decided to put her in what she wore yesterday. Don't lie. You've done it. Gone somewhere one day and another place the next and decided that what you had on yesterday was perfect.
I settled on light pink pants and a matching kimono style top with a pink bow. Done. Oh and socks. She has no shoes that fit and really, does a 2 month old need shoes? The answer is 'no'.
Guess what. It was for real. Downtown, an old firehouse turned photography studio. He was the real deal. She was precious, amazing, perfect. I have never ever seen more beautiful pictures. They are amazing. Not just because my baby is perfect, this photographer is unbelieveable. I've never seen a setup like it. A.mazing. Said that already, I know.
So she smiled and cooed and laughed in her Pampers Sensitive. She worked it.
I pimped out my baby and she was a star. So, now the question becomes, will she land on the diaper box? And if she does will they tell me or will I just happen to notice at Walmart when I'm buying Luvs cause they're cheaper?
So if nothing else I get a copy of the pictures which I will immediately share and perhaps purchase a billboard to display them on. And if Pampers choses her she'll be on some online campagin or something. Then maybe we graduate to bigger and better things. Who needs a job when I can pimp my baby part time? (Still going back to work on Monday)
I hope this doesn't land her in rehab someday.
The Best part? No one asked me to buy a timeshare in St. Pete Beach.