It’s been exactly one year since our last set of family pictures were taken, so I suppose it’s high time we get some more! One of my very favorite people when we lived in Iowa (or, to be honest, one of my favorite people ever) was my friend Erica—her husband was in chiropractic school with Jeff, and she took family pictures for us a few times when we lived there. And I’m in luck, because she and her family just moved out here to Utah, to fill all my friendship/photography needs. Those needs overlap, I suppose.
Here is one of my favorite shots from our family pictures with Erica almost exactly one year ago, right before we left the Midwest:
And for comparison/marking-the-passage-of-the-cruel-hands-of-time purposes, here is one of my favorite shots from our most recent pictures, taken about 2 weeks ago (holy moly, Jeff and Forrest look exactly the same. Did I contribute a single gene to the making of this child?):
Look how much bigger that goobnugget is now! And strained smile much, Jeffry? It will probably be obvious as you look at these pictures that soooomeoooone is not a big fan of picture day. Take note: the dearly beloved blankie made its way into our family photos. I think it’s trying to take my spot in the family. [Barely related tangent: that blankie doesn’t get washed often, since Forrest generally melts down into a screaming pile of wretched baby tantrum every time I try to put it in the laundry. But it has gotten so disgusting lately—he blows his nose on it; I think I could have cracked that blanket in half, it was that crusty—that I had to stick it in the washer this weekend, despite his loud loud very loud protests. He tried valiantly to snatch it back out, and spent the whole wash/dry time crying in front of the washing machine. The tender reunion when it emerged from the dryer was truly heartwarming. We should have recorded it—he’d be a youtube sensation!]
I love these separate mommy-daddy shots with Forrest . . . I think they’re going to make their way into his bedroom soon. This one of Jeff and Forrest is so sweet:
And while I’m at it, why don’t I just toss in dozens of photos that you’ll probably scroll past at top speed? Because, let’s be honest, unless you’re looking at pictures of your own family, you don’t really care, right? Humor me. Thanks.
I truly cannot figure out how we ended up with so many photos of Forrest smiling. Because here’s how I remember it: we drove an hour to get to Erica’s house (while Forrest cried). We had dinner with Erica and family (while Forrest whined). The kids played (and Forrest whined). We headed outside for pictures (and Forrest cried). We began taking pictures (naturally, Forrest whined). A brief, 5-minute long stint of happiness when a neighbor’s dog tried to invade our family pictures (Forrest tried to climb on its back for a ride, simultaneously thrilled and terrified—equal mix of high-pitched laughter/squealing and whining). Pictures continued (endless whining, from both Forrest and Jeffry). I don’t know how she did it, but she successfully made it look like I have a constantly blissfully happy child. Such beautiful lies!
I would like to add that I love how Forrest’s belly is poking out of his shirt in half the pictures. I think his little tummy is so cute, but I suppose this really means he needs some new, bigger shirts. Or that we should all go with the exposed round-squishy-tummy look for next year’s photos.
Oh, the deception that is professional photos. Maybe you look at this picture and think, “My, what a lovely, happy, romantic couple! They look so content and in love!”
Lies, lies, lies. How it really went down . . .
Erica: (posing us) “Jeff, just pretend you’re whispering sweet nothings in her ear.”
Jeff: “What? Sweet nothings? What do I say? What does that mean? What am I whispering? What’s happening?”
Erica: “Just pretend you’re having a romantic moment.”
Jeff: “We don’t have those. I don’t know what they look like. Let’s do something else. Let’s swing Forrest around again.”
Erica: “Okay, then just pretend you’re smelling her hair.”
Jeff: “Why would I smell her hair? I wouldn’t smell her hair.”
Erica: “JUST STICK YOUR FACE ON HER HEAD.”
Jeff: (whispering, pictured above) “Are we done yet? I hate this. Let’s go home.”
Which is why you should never trust anything you see on the internet, or framed in someone’s house.
(And, since I had a handful of questions when I put these on my facebook page, my shirt is from Vanity (the belt came with it—it’s on clearance here), and my jeans are the ones I turned from bootcut into skinnies (posted here). I have no idea where any of Jeff’s clothes came from (besides the obvious answer of ‘closet floor.’ ) Forrest’s getup is from TJ Maxx.)
[If you’re in or near Tooele, Utah and want some smashing photos taken, definitely visit Erica. We’re big fans. I’m not getting paid to write this or anything—she’s just really my friend and really does a great job. She took my maternity pictures and both sets of our family pictures, and some of my biggest regrets in life are not having her take our wedding photos (too bad I met her 3 years too late for that occasion) and Forrest’s newborn pictures. I kept thinking I’d do those myself, and 20 months later, I think I may have missed my window of opportunity. Too late to do the nakey-and-sleeping-curled-up-in-a-basket-wearing-an-owl-hat shot. Shucks. Visit her facebook page here.]
