I'm Late

I'm late.

It's all her fault.

Don't get so bent out of shape about it.  I'm not late like that.  There are no extra little people residing in this body, thank you very much.  But it was a good title, right?  Gotcha a little worried, didn't I?

Because I am late.  As in, late editing my photographs.  I still have photos from the last week in April and we are nearing the second week of May.  For those who don't know me personally, I used to send out a kodak album of all 4 zillion of my monthly photos of my kids to interested friends and family on the last day of the month without fail.  You could set your watch to it.  But someone had to go and have a birthday extravaganza week, so now my editing is all out of whack.  I'm late.

But these photos are not the kind to be forgotten merely because they are out of chronological order.  They are from one of the most magical days of the year--the first day of shorts for Jax and a dress sans Baby Legs (although you know I love them) for Em.  It was close to 70 degrees.  The afternoon was golden.  My babies were playing on the deck, soaking up the sunshine, when Daddy got home from work.  Jax was anxious to show him his new gardening tools and to start wielding them. And for the record, this might be my favorite outfit of his yet, although I'm ready to lose the omnipresent pout.

Em was anxious to be as attached to Daddy's hip as humanly possible.

Literally. 

Aren't her thighs epic?  And don't you just want to kiss them?  Or am I the only one who finds hefty baby thighs irresistable?

Anyway, Em was glad to have her BFF back.

I was just happy to take some picture of my family doing what they do best: loving on each other and living life.

Missing:  One Baby Boy.  Blue Eyes.  Dirty blonde/light brown hair.  Cleft chin.  Dimple in his left cheek.  Alphabet monger.  Oh, that boy in the pictures?  No, that's not him.  That's a twelve-year-old.  My little boy is still a baby.  Oh, wait...

Maybe not.

Damn, when did that happen?

At least I still have my other baby.  My baby girl.

If I could only get some visitation rights over here?

Fine.  I'll just photograph your loveliness from afar.  And laugh at how you use Daddy's ears as steering wheels.

I'm glad we took this little romp down the driveway to where the world's most humongous snow bank once stood.  Jax still talks about how we conquered it, and on this day, we were able to say good bye to winter for good.

The last shovelful of snow for the year.  In shorts and a t-shirt, no less.

And then we went back in the house for dinner.  Supper, as my mom calls it.

Fifteen minutes, tops.  I'm really starting to realize that it's these fifteen-minute memories, the ones we could have skipped over but didn't, the ones we could have just gone inside and avoided, but didn't, that are what build up a family.  Fifteen minutes to create a wonderful memory, some beautiful pictures, and a chance to reconnect after a long day.  To count our blessings.  To bask in the golden hour of light and stomp out a snowbank.  A day I couldn't have glossed over or forgot.

Better late than never.