Tag Archives: babies

Grabby McGrabberton

And the first pictures I’m bringing forth from our Alaska vacay: James! My 7 month old nephew. The one with the fuzzy head. The one with the big old cheeks.

The one with the fattiest, most delightful little baby thighs I have ever seen, squished, or kissed.

This isn’t the first time that fat baby thighs have distracted me from blogging about larger events . . . as I recall, a pair of marshmallow legs at Joe and Steph’s wedding produced the identical effect. What can I say–I guess I’m predictable that way.

I’m having trouble imagining I could ever love a child as much as I love this one. Even if I give birth to a baby from my own loins, sustain its fragile life with food from my own body, name it ‘Fatty Lumpkin,’ and it has thighs so wonderfully big that they could roll down a baby-sized highway, right now I doubt it could ever be as lovable. As cute. As grabbable . . . or as grabbing-crazed. So here is a little series entitled ‘Grabby McGrabberton.’ The alternate title–from the perspective of my terrified camera–is ‘Death Claw Alert–Save Ye He Who May.’

Oh that little James. He’s a cure-all for the Monday blues.

Marshmallow legs

Twelve days ago our wonderful friends Joe and Steph tied the knot.

As it always seems to happen after a wedding or big event–at least since the advent of my beautiful Nikon–, I am wading through a quagmire of pictures. But when I sat down with Photoshop to start churning them out for the world to see, it wasn’t the pictures of the dancing, or the bride and groom escaping in a boat, or the beautiful (and hot) outdoors ceremony that I was drawn to immediately–it was the pictures of a small one. A small one with marshmallow legs.

Marshmallow legs that I want to kiss and chomp and squeeze.

Neither I nor my friends Katie and Liz had ever seen this baby before or met her parents until that very day.

But we were drawn to her like a magnet.

We had to touch that fuzzy head.

Thankfully her parents were more than generous, and let us hold her and scrunch her and squeal over her and pretty much act like a ridiculous set of hormone-crazed women.

And hey–our dresses kind of matched! I choose to interpret that as a message from the universe saying: you have a special bond.

I think baby James has a contender now for the position of Cutest Baby.

Do you ever inexplicably start taking pictures of a baby who’s not yours and whose name you don’t even know?

Apparently, I do.

Though since we’re all friends of Joe and Steph, that at least eliminates the possibility that I’m a freaky stalker that needs to be kept away at all costs.

Then again, maybe not. See, baby-snatching actually crossed my mind. What if I just grabbed this baby and made a hot run for it?

Which begs the question–can I even trust myself anymore?

My favorite shots are the ones of the Little Dumpling with her own beautiful mama. As the fates would have it, we were seated with the Little Dumpling’s family at the outdoor reception. Which meant: even more opportunities to capture the sweetness of this little bundle of pillowy baby-ness.

You have never seen a cuter pair.

Be still, my heart.