Family Photos

My name is Kristin, and I'm a terrible blogger.

There have been a gabillion things this summer that have made me think, "I need to blog this." Freddie's crawling now; he (finally) got his third tooth; we spent this past Saturday nite in Andy Griffith's childhood home.

So much going on.

But then comes the boys' bedtime, and after that, I am as useless as a matchbook in a swimming pool. In other words, those "gabillion things" are gone with wind, the same way Jones's love for swings was replaced with an obsession for slides - something ELSE I should've blogged about.

Near the top of the list of things I need to blog about is our family photo shoot with my good buddy Brooke. Jeremy had a men's conference in Nashville in early August. As soon as I heard that this was on his agenda, a visit - and photo shoot - with Brooke was added to mine. Jeremy rode up with our pastor and some other guys from the church on Friday, and the boys and I met him there on Saturday.

Sunday morning, the day of our shoot, dawned hot and humid, as days do in the South in the summertime. We got ready and got on the elevator. I was feeling pretty miraculously organized to have us all fed, dressed, packed up, and ready to roll by 9 a.m.

Then, we boarded the elevator.

Jones was showing us how he can push the buttons (because: BUTTONS!).  When we got to the lobby, Jones let his hand slide on the door as it opened. The problem was that, when the door got to the point that it recessed into the wall, it kept recessing, his sweet little hand still resting on it. Stuck. The child's hand was stuck in an elevator door at the Franklin, TN, Embassy Suites, and all I could think was, "Can she PhotoShop the 'swell' out of his hand?"

That's not true - what I was REALLY thinking is, "Oh, my gosh! Oh, my GOSH! OH, MY GOSH!" Jeremy and I took turns tugging, my having laid Freddie on the floor of the elevator to free up both of my arms in the service of freeing Big Brother.

The hand would not budge.

Would.not.

Praying and panicking, panicking as I prayed.

Jeremy finally pulled one of the door panels toward him at just the same time that I tugged Jones's hand, which - FINALLY - slid out, to everyone's elated relief. The whole ordeal probably lasted seventeen seconds, but it might as well have been a week and a half for the way it felt  to me.

Initially, we weren't sure whether or not to take Jones to have his hand checked out or not. Then, he was consoled by a bag of Cheetos given to him by the front desk clerk - herself the mother of a two year old. At that point, we figured it was safe to go on with the shoot.

Though we probably shouldn't have.

Jones was a BEAST (I now think it's because his shoes were too tight ... good job, Mama), and Freddie was all drool and eczema, and nothing, not even Brooke's adorable niece and nephews or their precious dog Pepper, could console either one of them.

I left, though, knowing that Brooke would come up with SOMETHING frameworthy, and she DID. Here are a few of my favorites, though, as she always does, she got a million that I just love. The problem is always narrowing them down to hang in the hallway.

Thanks, Brooke, for, once again, getting some super shots of my baby boys!