Tuesday, March 29, 2011


We attended a wedding on Saturday. We did okay at the church, until Fletcher discovered the cane belonging to the man in front of us. I hauled my boy to what they call the "mother's room" which was really just an area carved out of the ladies' bathroom into which they squeezed a couch, a room which really wouldn't work if you were a dad with a trouble-making child, and I'm trying not to let this be symbolic of the role of a woman vs. a man in religion, so.

Because the mother's room was basically the bathroom, I wasn't trying too hard to make the door close, locking in that lovely public restroom smell. The wedding photographer was hanging out in the back of the church just outside the mother's room, and Fletcher was quite interested in him. In fact, Fletcher was quite interested in EVERYTHING LET ME CLIMB ON IT PLEASE.

Dutifully, the photographer snapped a few shots of my boy, who he said was very photogenic, and so my ego exploded with joy.

Courtesy of Rex Munyon Photography.

Generally, I'm all for keeping him in onesies as long as absolutely possible. You won't catch me dressing him like a mini-adult too often. But I don't think my baby has ever been cuter than he was in his tie and sweater vest.

Yes, his hair is starting to go in his eyes. I don't know how to possibly cut it anymore, not without him freaking out because he wants to eat the scissors and then I'd wind up accidentally stabbing him in the eye.

On the subject of eyes, it turns out I had a slightly lazy (droopy) eye as a baby, which I outgrew. It's something that also appears on other men in my family when they are really tired. And I see it a little bit in Fletcher here (along with his buck teeth. Did I mention that he has eight teeth now? Eight.):

A few photos I took:

three schultz generations

tie off for the reception

my little stud

In some ways, I'm not the stereotypical woman who wants to go out with the girls and, I don't know, shop for shoes? I don't miss "girl outings" or "adult" outings without Fletcher. I don't ever wish for time away from him, not really. So even though he was a handful during the wedding (and especially the reception when I discovered he has a built-in tracking device for finding cake and various other bits on the floor), it was my choice to have him there. I'm not broken up about not being able to dance the night away.

That being said, I know a non-baby-appropriate outing when I see one, and so I feel a little prickly about the fact that during the reception my engaged step-sister-in-law thought it necessary to ask my husband to babysit Fletcher next weekend while she and I and the rest of her bridesmaids go looking for bridesmaid dresses. I'm obsessed, but I'm not dumb.

Hmm. Maybe I am stereotypical, then, reading too much between the lines and getting worked up over nothing.

In any case, I'm honored that I get to stand up in her wedding next year. I was honestly surprised when she asked, because I'd taken it for granted that my bridesmaid days were all behind me. Fletcher will be nearly two years old when that wedding comes, and if he attends, I bet he'll be the handsomest boy to ever strut his stuff. Do you think I'm biased much?

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