Picture Time

Yesterday, it was time for the annual pilgrimage to the mall for picture taking time. Oh, the groans...not from them, from me.

I've been putting this off for several weeks, just not being able to muster the energy to wrangle them both in cute coordinating outfits, while making sure their teeth were not growing any fuzz that would show up in the photo and making sure they both had clean hair on the same day. And by clean that means no baby powder in Olivia's hair since on a daily basis she seems to outwit me and finds baby powder stored in the recesses of linen closets to dump all over the floor and her head. Every single time. I now think it is a strange genetic thing and she literally cannot help herself, no matter how many times Mommy gets "mod" (mad).

For Ava clean hair means no bubble gum. She's learned to blow bubbles, and hasn't quite mastered the concept of tossing the head to the side BEFORE bubble pops. This is a highly sought after skill that most females of average or higher intelligence do eventually master, but as we all know it can take time. All this cleanliness and cuteness is no doubt a monumental task for me.

Why do I do it? It's FCC calendar time. I always submit their picture for the FCC calendar because ours is still the largest in the country and makes a decent chunk of change that is submitted to Chinese Children's charities each and every year....for 10 years now running. And, you thought it was because I was a closet stage mom, prepping my cuties for future Miss America contests. Yeah, notice the $5000 gowns they are wearing? Um hm, Target $5.99.
You too can see your amazing darling in the calendar next year by going to www.fcc-in.org for the instructions. It's a worthy cause, really it is.

Olivia for the most part got into the car and sashayed into the mall looking very much like she did in the photo. This was the look we were going for...casual summer, comfortable. Ava on the other had had the white blouse but no matching skirt or shorts. Neither girl had acceptable matching shoes. And, hair bows were folly for upcoming arguments.

My Mission before setting foot in walk-in photo store: Find Ava some coordinating something or other to cover her little bottom and find shoes for them both or give up and hope their feet were not too dirty for photo.

Ava's Mission: Beg and plead 1000 times for flip flops. End of story.

Can you see where this is going?

I had been putting this trip off for several weeks storing up all my energy for undiverted and successful trip to the mall. No amount of begging from 6 year old would break my mental toughness. We enter first shoe joint. Ava begs and plead for gross Hannah Montana pink plastic flip flops. I put my foot down and staunchly deny her. We move to next shoe joint where she finds the shoes she is wearing in the picture. I agree they are acceptable shoes and she proclaims them flip flops! Which they are technically not but who am I to argue? She gets "flip flops" and I don't have to settle on what look like 1985 pink jellies from hell that will pay for Miley Cyrus' future drug rehab in Palm Springs.

Bonus, they have matching ones for Olivia. I whip out a credit card and everyone is stepping a little lighter. Next stop, shorts or skirt that sort of matches the whole theme here. Ava and I argue for a few minutes while I try to cajole her into wearing these completely adorable plaid shorts. Of course, she hates them and refuses. I'm a little worried about her developing sense of style. Then, the whole mission almost got derailed when I spotted this. Because let's be honest, that is cuter that what I originally planned. But, I had to stay focused in that dinner time was approaching and if we didn't make some progress the whole thing was going to blow up in my face if Olivia got, dare I say it, hungry.

After agreeing on non-offensive jean shorts we turned left and headed in to the photo place. Good, news they could take a walk in. The mall was deserted. That's what happens in the mid-west when the first few 70 degree days pop up. So, now all we had to do was re-comb everyone's hair, change Ava's shorts, clean raisins out of Olivia's teeth, change both girls shoes and change a diaper. For posterity's sake, I was sweating by this time.

And, all that BEFORE anyone even picked up a camera.

But, the thrill of victory is sweet. We got a few nice pictures, and since I was in robo-mom mode I quickly discarded any hard sell for "picture club" and walked out with our 2 sheets of photos that we came for and not one thing more.

And then we ate "umburgas" (hamburgers) at Johnny Rockets. Ava asked if Daddy and I came there on dates since it was such a great place. I didn't have the heart to break it to her that no, when daddy and I do date...which is about bicentenially now...we don't choose Johnny Rockets but I would keep it in mind.