I was never really into having children before I met Amy. I liked them enough but I didn’t have that now constant “YOU SHOULD HAVE A BABY” voice in my head as I do now*. Then, inevitably, I suppose, a love and adoration developed for Noah. And subsequently over the years for Ezra and now Ike. I make time to see them whenever I’m in Washington. I curse my way to their home because of traffic and then I am there. They are there. Just like that everything is perfection and legos and wooden apple pies that I should blow on because IT’S HOT! I find myself surrounded by love and hugs and a cuddly baby boy. They are sweet and charming and unfortunately you don’t get to see all of it from online. Amy can weave a story so you get them in pieces but oh, how much you miss from real life. Because how they are is perfection ten-fold. I will consider myself beyond lucky and perfectly blessed to end up with just one child who is exactly like them. Oh how I hope and pray.

*A story for another time. Promise.

This is Sherice.

This is Sadye.

Now follow along: Sherice is a colleague/friend. Sadye is my cousin. Sherice’s cousin is also Sadye’s cousin. Sherice’s cousin is my cousin. Sherice and Sadye aren’t cousins and neither are Sherice and I. And this is why they call it “SMALLbany”. Everywhere you go you are either related to someone or know them or hell, your parents know them. Once my mother’s secretary caught me at the mall when I wasn’t supposed to be at the mall and she totally told my mother and now I work with her – my mother and her secretary – and I cannot let that shit go.

But I digress.

I have fallen in love. Well, back in love. With my 50 mm (f/1.4 for interested parties). I fell back in love so hard and I’m in the type of love that makes you feel like time has stopped when you’re together.

You guys? I think my 50 mm and I are going to go all the way!

There’s something about the freedom of the self-timer. Freedom from looking and being precise. You hit one button and then another and whatever happens, happens. You rush to the perfect spot and just do the damn thing. And so with my camera, a self-timer and an incredibly sturdy twin bed, I jumped. And jumped and jumped some more.

You know what? There was a sense of freedom with each jump feeling myself higher and higher though trying to keep my head from bashing into a ceiling fan. Regardless, fun? Have you had any lately?

After a trip to the beach. Far too hot for makeup or anything for that matter.

It takes on average of 30 minutes and just as many shots for me to find the perfect self portrait. Even then I stand there critiquing myself. I list off the things I dislike as opposed to the things that I do like. The things that others like. So, I’ll say this: That hair. Oh, that hair. There’s so much of it and it gets all over the place and gets bigger with each hour. And I love it.

The last few days have been less than stellar but starting on this tomorrow has given me this renewed sense of joy.

My creative and colorful side often gets stifled under the weight of Very Serious Work. Which is a shame but for the first time in months I’ll be busting out my DSLR. It’s currently covered in cobwebs. It rarely happens where I am genuinely looking forward to something without trepidation or having anxiety wrapped around my shoulders.

That lack of wonderfulness has not been without that moment of clarity that comes from a dire (in my world) situation and think that’s what making me a little bit joyful right now. That moment of realizing that things are bad and that I have the ability to make it better.

I’m writing this from a hotel in Chicago, over a pot of coffee in between checking various email accounts and gazing out the window. It’s a yucky day here. It started last night when I sat outside in a rocking chair while watching a storm roll in over Lake Michigan. Hours before the storm I sat on the beach for a break. A beach that New Yorkers don’t think is a real beach because it’s on a lake and a lake isn’t a real body of water capable of having a place to sit one’s fat ass for an hour between meetings. Whatevs. There was sand and now I have a tan line.

All photos taken with Instagram. I’m HeatherBarmore

Since I’m here in Chicago until eternity and there are so many people I’d like to see, I’m going to do a meet-up on July 5th at Quartino at 6-ish. Because wine is the best way to get people to say “See! She only plays an asshole on Twitter!” See you then.

Instead of a weekend at the beach it was a weekend in the District. One that resulted in the summer’s first tan lines. After lazily lying about there was the Pride parade. I don’t know what Pride is like in your town and given that I’ve only attended Pride parades in two cities it’s not as if I have a wealth of things to compare it to, that said, DC Pride was enjoyable. Think people being happy to be themselves, without fear of ridicule or being an outcast. They are free to just be. That’s what I loved about the parade. Families, religious leaders and a few real housewives rounded riding along 17th street celebrating the act of love. My heart. It was good.

Photos live here.

I recently posted this on Facebook and Flickr because, oh, look at my Daddy’s punim:

Not five minutes later Garrett comments on my photo with,”Doesn’t beat my picture”:

Meanwhile my father is somewhere with his ear’s burning trying to figure out how to use The Google.

It’s no secret that I like children and babies. And I’m good with children and babies. They take a liking to me and I am quick to hold a tiny hand. And honestly I’m not sure what it is about me that make the small set so into me. I’m the girl in the grocery line with a pile of Lean Cuisines and there’s always that woman standing in front or behind me with the children that are contorting themselves to take a look at me. Then they smile. Then I die.

I would like children one day. Though I have this endless fear and strings of what-ifs. Most importantly, What if I don’t find anyone – a partner – to do this with? What if I spend the rest of my life living with my cat and spending rainy days on my futon watching terrible reality television? That might happen regardless, of course.

But enough of that! During BlogHer, I knew Heather would be there with her scrumptious baby and so I spent two whole days stalking her. Of course I wanted to see Heather but I really just wanted to hold her baby. Brief digression to say that I have a habit of just wanting to ‘hold your baby’. I used to go to Amy’s house just to hold her babies. Because that’s the kind of friend I am.

Anyway, back to Heather and the stalking. I found Heather, hugs were exchanged and then she said HERE! HOLD THIS! and handed a lovely Annabel to me. That baby? Oh, you guys. That baby is a sweet little chunker of a baby who was fascinated by the giant statement necklace I was sporting. She kept putting her little head into my chin right underneath my nose so I could inhale deeply because nothing like the smell of a baby. Am I right or am I right?

Yvonne snapped this photo of us together with Annie checking out my jewelry and me trying to keep my ovaries from exploding. Lovely, indeed.