Kids with a camera

I'm always amused (and irritated) when I go to use my camera and when I turn it on, I find that my children have - at some point- gotten a hold of it and taken random and bizarre photos. Here's what I found today...

Jane and Lizzy and I went to a birthday party for our friend, Brooklyn, today. That girl is amazing. She's turning 15 tomorrow and had a party held in a church with a live band and a gazillion people there who all agree with me that she's amazing.

I bring this up because I sat next to Brooklyn's mom, thinking how I don't know another person in the whole world who could pull off that kind of a rockin' birthday party other than Brooklyn, and then I looked up to see my eldest daughter full on skanking, by herself, having a grand old time in the middle of the dance floor. One would never have guessed that mere minutes before, she was so terrified of the building and everything in it that she would hardly let go of my leg and broke into tears at least a couple of times.

At that point, I leaned over to Brooklyn's mom and thinking that she could probably relate, I asked "Did you ever have a moment when you looked at your daughter and thought to yourself 'that girl is a piece of work.'? Because I'm having one of those moments."

Actually, I have a lot of those moments with Jane. Good heavens, if we all make through her teenage years, it will be a miracle. But I'd never change her even if I could because I love a girl with spirit and that is why I love Jane. And Brooklyn too.

Moving on, Lizzy also got her sticky little fingers on my camera. And they WERE sticky. Literally. Like, several wipees were employed in an effort to restore the camera to it's original 'not sticky' state.

Although I believe we'd all prefer to see them from a little further distance, one must admit that my middle child has some amazing eyelashes.

They look ever better when she doesn't appear as though she's been drugged.

But in all fairness, she probably had been.

Don't judge me.

You're judging me, aren't you?

Dealing with a toddler with insomnia is really no fun.

I promise.

For Pete's sake, why do I always seem compelled to talk about the occasions wherein I medicate my children on this blog? I really don't understand myself sometimes. I'd better just delete this whole paragraph before you

a) think I'm a bad parent for drugging my child on a regular basis

b) think that I'm a lunatic or

c) I regret publishing it.

Oh, nevermind. I don't care that much.