mamapants

I realized that I forgot to put up pictures from Kate's fake wedding when she told me that she would be spending New Year's here, with her fake husband. WELL.

The story is pretty simple, really - I got a new flash unit and I wanted to practice with it. A bride-to-be had called me about doing her wedding, and I wanted to show her some kickass pictures with the new equipment... however, I had no bride to shoot. Enter my sister, whose only modeling request was that I find her a single "spouse" instead of making Rob do it.* Next, enter Matt, the grad-student uncle of the little boy I watch during the day.

* Kate refused to have her fake wedding with Rob because she's still rankled over her fake prom date with Rob. His friend from school was supposed to be her date for her senior prom, and the day before the big show he called and canceled. Rob, who was visiting with me at the time, went directly to the only formal store in town (which also just happens to be a tire dealer - for those days when you need a frock and a Firestone!) rented a badly-fitting tux, and took my sister to the prom. And now you may say either "Awww" or "Ewww," depending on how incesty you actually think that was.

ANYWAY. So I got Matt to put on a suit and tie, and strapped Katie into my dress (which fit her like it was made for her, that beast) and we went up to Duke Chapel and played with the camera. Apparently, somewhere between the flashes, Kate and Matt decided that being fake-married was actually kind of fun, and now they're sort of dating, or at least as much as two people 700 miles apart can be dating. HOW CUTE IS THAT.

I'm feeling a little less crotchety about the Box of Suck. I've decided to just keep my trap shut - which includes not sending a thank you note, good manners be damned - and pretend it never happened. If she calls and asks Rob about it, I've instructed him to say we did, and that we liked the clothes for Norah. And to say nothing else, because although my mother clearly dropped the ball on my religious assignation, she really hammered home that "if you can't say something nice" thing.

This helped my mood today: while getting out of the car at the super-preppy outfitter's today, I straightened up and whacked my head on the car (and by "whacked" I mean "very nearly split it open like the rotten and squashy pumpkin that only just left our porch"). I held on to my pain, though, and managed to squeeze out a clenched-teeth "Ooooohergggh" so that Norah wouldn't hear me cut loose with some sailorisms... and with perfect intonation, in her tiny little bell voice, the princess said, "Shit, mama. MAMA SHIT."

Posted in: babychatter, Sister Kate, work on 12/16/2006 at at 8:16 PM