Perhaps I was my OCD-self on crack.
Although Daughter woke up with a huge zit on her chin (which I discovered as the song, "This is the stuff" is playing on the radio...google it and listen, you'll get the irony), I was somehow able to refrain from attacking her with acne medication and foundation because 1) I'm Asian, and she has the fairest skin ever, and 2) the miracle of PhotoShop. We got through church, stopped at Mastercuts to have a professional blow out her hair (best money I ever spent), and took a lunch breather where my Diva initiated a toast to her "senior year pictures."
The next 4.5 hours were exhausting. Granted, it wasn't all about the Diva. Husband is launching a new handyman business, Twin Cities Home Repair, so we took a few pictures for that purpose. The Gopher came home, so we spent considerable time taking family portraits. And for the first time ever, I'm thinking about the Christmas card ahead of time, so we took a picture for that. But, much of the day was spent behind the photographer waving my hands saying, "Look here!", in front of the Photo Diva fixing her hair, or cajoling her into a natural smile with songs, questions, and general hysteria. Tears were shed about three-quarters of the way through ("the tiara incident"), and the threats kicked in towards the final stretch ("the tree standoff"). At the end, I heard some frazzled, haggered woman offer Daughter the restaurant of her choice if she would just take a few more pictures - I, the woman who claimed she would never resort to bribery, who would never negotiate with terrorists, was broken.
But we made it. Our photographer and her assistant patiently worked with the crazy that is our family. We went out to dinner, enjoyed complimentary desserts (complimentary because I pretty much begged for a glass of wine, but I forgot my ID, so the server brought us a dessert tray on the house instead...complimentary dark chocolate mousse definitely has its own calming effect...
This evening, I brushed my teeth as the Diva was putting lotion on. I rinsed off the toothbrush and said with a sly smile, "Pictures tomorrow!"
Daughter looked uncertain. She tried to be agreeable, and nodded her head.
Not to be deterred, I tried again. "Tomorrow we'll go in, get your hair cut, then take more pictures."
Daughter, who hates hair cuts, gave me a look. "Hair-cut?"
I smiled extra big, and prodded, "Tomorrow pictures, Wednesday pictures, Thursday pictures, Friday pictures, Saturday pictures, Sunday pictures twice..."
Daughter stared in horror.
"And," I said, "No school. Just pictures."
And then Daughter knew this was just ridiculousness. She burst into a smile from ear to ear, and yelled, "Nice try Mom! Nice try!"
We laughed. Daughter and I have never had this type of interaction before, where she laughs at herself because of a friendly mom prank. I have never heard her say the phrase, "Nice try," and it was music to my ears as I walked out of the bathroom and I heard her mumble over and over to herself, "Nice try mom. Nice try."
