Birthday Boy

Saturday was the day of the big Sweazy photoshoot, where I was actually going to be documented on film holding my child. Such are the pitfalls of being the photographer in the family. Judging by the pics over the last year, H looks to be one of those Disney heroines, all big eyes and no mamas to be found. We're promoting photographer Lisa Thomas' work through the store, because she's badass, and I was so excited to have her come to the house to do a "lifestyle shoot" on the eve of Harlow's first birthday. Unfortunately we all woke up feeling like ass. Poor Harlow was up all night coughing and sneezed giant snot bubbles roughly every 7 seconds. Caleb and I both had sore throats and I started running a fever, yet this didn't stop us from taking H to meet the Easter Bunny and  help her score some candy on the easter egg hunt. 

Lisa and her assistant showed up just as the light was getting golden. Harlow would have made Tyra proud. She was totally fierce, working the camera for a good two hours before melting down and demanding the boob for all her hard work. Preview pics of the Sweazys working it coming soon.

While the rest of the world was celebrating Jesus, our household was celebrating the birth of my babydaddy. We had a nice lowkey lunch where we grilled some chicken, ate some couscous and Caleb made the loveliest tarte tatin:

I annoyed the crap out everybody by photographing said tarte for about 10 minutes before I'd let anyone eat it.

Harlow spent most of the day talking to us about how much she loved chicken, blueberries, her Uncle Neil, playing the piano, and cardboard.Or "gwerda-berda-gdoo-ba," the signature phrase in thew new language she woke up speaking. She seriously chowed at dinner tonight, and at the rate she has been nursing, I'm thinking we're going to be seeing some major milestones soon. Like walking. Or turning into the Swedish Chef.