So we're out yesterday at the large mall to the north, fleeing the heat; Sam was drawing everybody's attention with his insistence upon pushing his baby doll ("Ben") in a toy stroller behind me and Gabe. (The sound of ovaries twinging positively filled the air, I tell you.)

Anyway, we're walking past the expensive portrait place, and we get accosted by a salesgirl with a proposition: $20 for an 8x10 and 8 wallets. Not bad, once I verified that both boys could get the deal, and they'd both be entered in the store's contest for free pictures. What the heck? Gabe needed new pictures anyway, and Sam's eye, which he had bumped on the coffee table that morning, was de-blackened, thanks to lots of Arnica. Plus, the studio had a wardrobe of adorable clothes for kids on hand. I had little to lose.

I neglected to recall my kids' proclivity for morphing into tiny supermodels the moment they hear that Mommy is planning to buy only one or two pictures. Good God, y'all. Every picture the studio took was gold.

The behavior, on the other hand...I should back up. When I told the studio we'd go for it, and we booked a slot in an hour, Sam immediately made up his mind that he was not having his picture taken. "I don't want a picture!" he announced as we walked away. "No pictures!" he yelled as he played in the kid area by the food court. "The girl won't take my picture," he confidently stated on our way back to the studio.

"Fine," I told him. I wasn't about to force the issue and wind up with a pile of pictures of Sam looking grumpy and irritated. I figured it was no big deal; we'd just get Gabe's pictures done, and if Sam changed his mind, we'd do him after that.

Gabe was happy to have his portraits done - at first. He didn't care for me changing his clothes and gave his usual protest, but a quick nursing had him smiling and ready to go. The session was long, though, and after a little while he began to protest. He tried to crawl away; he tried to climb the drape. He yelled. In between yells, of course, he flirted and smiled for the camera, but after each "click," he let us know what he really thought of the whole matter.

Meanwhile, Sam had changed his mind, due in no small part to the attention Gabe was receiving and to the large red antique pickup truck they were posing on Gabe's lap. "Is it my turn yet? I want my pictures!" I tried fobbing him off with a water bottle (to drink from, not over his head, regardless of how that may have sounded or how I may have felt at the time), but he kept getting more and more impatient to have his turn in the limelight. He climbed my back, kept trying to take off his clothes (to put on their costumes), and generally was a howler monkey.

Gabe's shoot finished with a complete failure to get a shot of him in the buff (back toward the camera only!), so we moved on to Sam. He was instantly charming, posing on cue, smiling like a little prince, and totally working the camera in the studio's little tuxedo. Gabe took his turn playing howler monkey, nursing frantically and pulling away every few seconds to demand to be allowed to explore the room and all the props. By the time we finished shooting, the photographer was sweating, the kids were exhausted, and I was numb.

It was to be expected, I suppose, that the pictures would be gorgeous. Not one was bad, except for perhaps the last one of Gabe, where a hint of his desperation was beginning to creep into his expression. I threw up my hands at the thought of being able to choose only two pictures. Luckily, Rita, when I spoke to her on the phone after the shoot, said she wanted some pictures, so that would help a little. The salesgirl mentioned that they could put the pictures on a disk for me; I was interested just long enough for her to tell me that they could give me the disk and all the rights to the pictures for a mere thousand dollars. (They seemed unamused when I asked what it would cost if I wanted just the pictures and not the rights.)

So I called Eric, we discussed, and we got a few pictures more than I intended. I have to confess to hoping that all other kids they photograph for the contest will be little trolls; the photographer did such great work, I'd love to have been able to buy all the shots. I'll show you when they come in so you can see what I mean.

The salesgirl said I ought to get the kids into modelling, and she's not the first to say so. You know, I'd do it if I wasn't terrified at how they'd behave at a long shoot, or if I knew of a place to do it without having to drive for hours. The money would be nice, but not if it came at the cost of our sanity. An online acquaintance has her kids appearing in circulars for Target, and that sounds low-key enough, but I think she knew somebody who got her connected. Anybody want to hook me up?

Eric's in Ottawa until tomorrow night; he left Sunday afternoon. It's a real trip, let me tell you; I think this is the first time I've had to play single mommy to both boys. I suppose it could have been worse; we're not sick, everybody's relatively happy, and it's only a short trip for Eric. Still, we can't wait for him to get back. Gabe keeps babbling, "Da-DEE-da-da, da-DEE," which may just be random, but it reminds Sam that he misses his daddy. I don't sleep well without him; I keep imagining noises downstairs, and I keep my cell in my hand all night.

I'm also a little jealous. I want to travel and see new places! My biggest "adventure" lately was driving into the heart of Milwaukee to take Sam to a "Math, the Fun Way" class (for which a more appropriate title would have been "Math, the Same Old Boring Way You Remember From Grade School"). We've got the Fourth coming up, and county and state fairs, and lots of other things to do, but nothing exciting and new. Eric likes travelling for work, and while I prefer to have him at home with us, I understand completely how he feels. Staying in hotels, exploring new places, stepping outside your usual environment for a bit - it's thrilling, in a tame sort of way.

Maybe I'll take a job as a tourbook writer. I'll take the family with me, travelling around the country - the world! - and writing down everything I see. Sounds dreamy.