Please realize that I am not saying he is cheap because I am a bratty wife who wants to spend money willy-nilly. No, indeed, I am quite the deal-finder myself. Other than groceries and gasoline, it's rare for me to buy something that is not at least 25% off. When I shop, I shop the endcaps and clearance racks first. Even a sale isn't a good enough deal for me most of the time. If I see something for 30% off I think "Do I need this now, or can I wait it out and hope they still have one in stock when it hits the 75% off rack?" I have been known, as well, to wander around a store with several items, only to return most of them to their homes and not purchase them. I cannot fathom how people spend $200 on jeans. I've never owned a single thing from Nordstrom. I bought Luca's glider second-hand, 90% of her clothes are used or were gifts, and her crib wasa 50% off....if I'd had time to wait it out until it hit 75% I would have.
But that's not really the point of this post. The point of this post is that I was forced to take pictures for our Christmas cards myself, which proved to be harder than my husband seems to think it should have been. The photo card for Christmas is sort of a high-pressure thing, and I fully admit choosing a family photo based on which one *I* look best in....to hell with my husband and kid! Yes, I chose a photo despite the fact that my husband looked better in the other family photo, and Luca's not even looking at the camera. The thing is: people will save these things. People will judge you based on the photos on them. I know this, because I both save and judge. So the pictures have got to be good. The family has to look happy, and be somewhat color-coordinated. And the kid? Well, the kid has to be cute, smiling, looking into the camera, wearing precious clothes, and so stinking charming people want to nibble her cheeks.
So, with the pressure on, I set out not once, but TWICE to get the perfect Christmas card pictures of Luca. And here were the results of these failed endeavors. And, I believe, compelling evidence of why you should just pay the professional studios to deal with your army-crawling, drooling, blinking, whining kid.