Here's my littlest love, Zee, performing on God's (actual) stage. We had him baptised yesterday. Neither B or I are religious at all and we don't go to church but both of us agreed we were uncomfortable with the idea of our kids not being christened. Something about Catholic guilt, I imagine.
The church bit went smoothly enough. My favourite part was probably B miming to LD how if he kept pulling on the tablecloth underneath some very, very big candles, the whole place was going to go up in flames. Then, the reception was spent surrounded by the best people we know. Nice.
I came away from the day with a couple of important revelations.
1. I love planning an event but my need for it to be perfect means I never end up enjoying it. At the reception, looking around at my guests eating their lunch, drinking and laughing and generally doing all the things I had hoped they would, I started to have a quiet little breakdown. So anxious had I become, I ate all of three bites of my own meal. And then, when we finally got home, exhausted and hungry, all I could think about was that fucking chicken parmigiana.
2. I don't like myself with a spray tan. Well, no, I like my body with a spray tan but a brown face freaks me out. I feel like that scary old neighbour lady from 'There's Something About Mary'.
Note to self: next big event – yes to Valium, no to spray tan.
A dear friend, photographer Steve Young, took snaps for us. Highlight?