We haven’t exactly mastered it yet.
There are only small windows of photo opportunities with toddlers, who’d much rather be running into heavy traffic than posing with mom. Our window had opened two seconds prior to this shot when Skye briefly took a break to rest between wails. Unfortunately, Mr. Candy cannot take a picture without first saying, “Okay. Ready?” By which point I knew Skye would have mustered enough energy to return to her duties as an uncooperative toddler, leading me to scream:
“JUST TAKE THE PICTURE!”
Twenty seconds after this shot was taken, Skye threw herself on the ground because she wasn’t keen on the idea of getting in the car (which would shut down her mission of playing real-life Frogger on Sunset Boulevard) — and whacked her face on the corner of Mr. Candy’s car door, just narrowly missing her eye. Yeah, that’s going to leave a nice shiner.
Ah, sweet, sweet Mother’s Day memories.
At least I convinced Mr. Candy to let me “cheat” on bed rest (only two weeks to go, anyway) and go out for brunch, the first time I’ve gone out for a meal in seven weeks. Naturally, I insisted on lying on the ground, head propped up on a chair cushion, while I hungrily shoveled scrambled eggs into my mouth with my hands and asked the server “What the heck are those frozen blocks in my water?” — as the other patrons looked at me funny. RUDE. Geesh. As though they’ve never seen a bedridden pregnant lady freshly released into civilization before.