Before our trip to Florida last weekend to visit Grandmother, I had these grand visions of gorgeous, magazine-worthy portraits of four generations of women, a soft-focus study in genetics & a mother's (and grandmother's and great-grandmother's) love. In my head there would also be a white fluffy kitten in the picture, but then I remembered that the Kardashian's already did that for their 2012 Christmas card, so I replaced the imaginary kitten with an imaginary cheese cube party tray (but only the white cubes).
But then I woke up, drank a cold cup of coffee on the way to the airport, got stopped at security, ran through the terminal with the baby strapped to my chest, missed our flight, cried hysterically while people stared, somehow got on the flight even though the plane door had already been closed, did a pretty impressive walk of shame to very last row of seats, still sniffling and holding a plastic shopping bag full of baby food and my baby, and then, once I settled in my seat, I got peed on.
Not only did we not end up in pink & white like Grandmother and my mom (a compromise after my mom suggested all-white, which I shot down fearing we'd look like we were joining Heaven's Gate), but I had also cried away any vestige of makeup, replacing it with a pretty impressive display of puffy, red "cry-face".
I tried to make it up to my mom by nabbing these pictures. The baby's wearing the dress my mom had made for her, and the headband is one I picked up (when I bought this one) specifically for this dress.
Grandmother said this was the best birthday she's ever had, which was worth five hundred ugly cry-face episodes. Of course I would have loved for Grandfather to be there too, but when we were escorted through a locked door onto a flight that should've missed, I realized that he already, and always, was.
Happy birthday, Grandmother!