The story (and backstory, I suppose) to the photos.

Well, I guess I was a little too subtle in yesterday's post as I wasn't try to imply that there was another photographer but that I was the photographer! I thought that the picture of Rich pulling the girls in the wagon would be a dead give-away but I can see how it could all be confusing. Anyway, yes I was the photographer and I suppose I was throwing myself a bit of a pity party last night (as we are all allowed to do from time to time.)

I know I take 10,000 pictures of the girls each month but I really like to have special photo shoots every six months - for their birthday and half year birthday. And sometimes, I think that I might be able to do this photography thing for real but then I realize my limitations (mainly time) and become discouraged.

I was so proud of myself for the planning aspects of this shoot. Rich and I had acquired an awesome wagon, I had selected the perfect park location, we arrived in the late afternoon (I didn't have much choice with that) but the sinking sun was behind most of the trees and I didn't have to contend with it. You should have seen the girls when they spotted the wagon. They were so excited and eager to jump in and have Daddy pull them around. As we made our way to the open field, we walked past a fenced in playground. All of a sudden I hear a woman yell, "OH. MY. GOD. Look at the three little girls in the hats." Ah, the beginning of the end.

So I was having trouble with my camera because like the amateur that I am, I forgot that I had been messing around with the settings. With that taken care of, I asked Rich to help me move the girls out of the semi-sunny area. He told me that he wanted to move anyway because we had picked up an audience. I was so busy with the camera that I hadn't even realized that a group of moms stuck in the playground area had moved to the edge of the fence and were watching us.

I started taking pictures and although the girls weren't being completely cooperative, I took it for what it was. They were being themselves and there was only so much I could do. I was fairly happy with how it was going until this family traipsed by us. There was a photographer with them. Her camera had an long zoom lens along with huge sun filter. In addition to her massive camera, she was carrying a tripod and dragging one of those huge bags on wheels.

I looked at Rich and said, "Jeez, look at that. Is all of that necessary?"

Rich responded, "Well, she's a professional."

"What do you mean professional?" I asked.

"She is paid to take photos."

And that's when I saw myself as everyone else must: just another mom with a fancy camera. I kind of felt like a fool. (And I'm not blaming Rich for these feelings. He tells me that my photos are great and that I'm just too sensitive. I suppose he's correct but it just seems like most people I know only see a great photographer as someone who does it as a full time paying job.)

I tried to shake it off and continued to take pictures as our time was limited. There was another family at the other end of the park with a "professional" photographer. That photographer was calmly sitting on the ground as the parents wrangled their one year old into different positions. I thought about how easy that must be as I ran around trying to pose three toddlers while taking pictures at the same time.

Alright, enough of my complaining. I thank you all for your honest comments. It is so easy for me to become frustrated. Now I'll lighten up this post and talk about some of the funny stuff that happened.

At the last minute before we left the house, I changed Allie into a different skirt. I should have just left the original skirt on her. It was size 2T and a bit too big. The skirt you see her wearing in the photos is from last year and is still too big. It kept falling down and actually fell to the ground when she was running.

About 2o minutes or so into our little photo session, I notice this big wet spot on the back edge of Em's skirt. I investigate and conclude that she has peed through her diaper and her clothes. Not only had I not brought any extra clothing with us but we had made plans to go out to dinner and if we had had to go home for a clothing change, it would have been too late to make it to the restaurant. As I watched Allie step out of her skirt, I come up with some creative clothing arrangements. We buttoned Allie's sweater all the way down to make it look like a dress and had Em wear that skirt.

Dinner went fairly well but we had no less than seven or eight people come to our table to ask/talk about the girls. All very pleasant and positive comments. The girls were well behaved too and, thankfully, with the dark restaurant no one noticed that Allie was only wearing a long sweater.