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The Desperate One-Handed Photographer

Candy's Column

The Desperate One-Handed Photographer

Since returning home from the hospital, we have captured approximately — I’m being generous here — TWO whole pictures of me holding Skylar.  Partly because I am taking most of the pictures.  And partly…?  Because Mr. Candy obviously shares my dad’s belief that Skylar is a super-star whose photos should not be sullied by the likes of me.  Yes, when I lamented how awful my hair looked in the hospital photographs, Dad rolled his eyes:  “Nobody is looking at YOU in the pictures, anyway.”

Ouch.  True.  But ouch.  Et tu, Dad?  If I’d wanted a stinging dose of reality, I would have complained to my MOM!

Combing through the four billion pictures I’ve taken of Skye these past two weeks — God bless digital cameras — and seeing her posing with everyone in L.A. EXCEPT her own mother… pretty sure I even saw one of her with Spencer and Heidi… I became increasingly desperate for photographic evidence of Skye and me sharing the same air.   I’ve begged Mr. Candy to take more of us, but between working and changing the endless stream of dirty diapers, it hasn’t been high on his priority list.  Go figure.

Clearly, I needed to make this mother-daughter photo op happen.  Because lord knows when my mother-in-law comes to visit next week, I will be relegated to the role of photographer-slash-breast milk-provider.  I’ll be lucky if anyone even remembers my name beyond “that woman who feeds my granddaughter.”  I adore my MIL and we have a great relationship, BUT… let’s just say that she framed a number of pictures from Mr. Candy’s and my wedding and none of them featured ME, the, um, bride.

So.  I ended up having a one-handed photo session with Skylar yesterday.  This is the closest I got to capturing both of us:

Yes!  That’s MY arm!

Something tells me this is going to be my mother-in-law’s favorite picture of the two of us.   Once she Photoshops the outfit to say “daddy,” that is…

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Candy Kirby is the founder of The Laughing Stork and a professional fun-maker who will never stop chasing her lifelong dream: to find the Pomeranian or porn star after whom her parents must have named her. A humor columnist for Disney, Nickelodeon, Scary Mommy, Reductress and Redbook, she also used to be a staff writer for the soap opera, The Bold and the Beautiful, where she penned many scripts featuring prolonged heated stares and countless “Who’s the Daddy?” story lines. Candy lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two young kids and three rescue Persian cats, the latter of whom are the real brains behind this operation (so send all complaints to them).

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