Because there's nothing worse than reliving other people's vacations, right?

Though we've been home from our trip to Boston for almost a month, I am finally getting around to editing the pictures I took there.

Why so long, you say?

Well, for one thing, I had eight corporate head shot sessions and a private family session that I did while we were there. Not to mention the 2-3 sessions per week I've had since we got home. Staying up until midnight every night editing does not necessarily entice one to want to work on pictures that no one is paying for.

But as I looked through them, it really brought the trip back and made me so happy that we went. Like this picture, for instance, taken on the top floor of Faneuil Hall.

You know, the top floor where there is a museum.

Which I never knew existed during the six years we lived there.

Frankly, because there was no way I was hauling a stroller up three flights of stairs to have one of my children break something historic again. So in all that time, I never once ventured to the top. Which is quite sad. Because honestly, they don't make light this gorgeous just anywhere.

I also discovered this photo hidden in the mix:

Which tragically (or luckily, depending on your point of view) is one of three pictures taken of me this whole year. We were walking the Freedom Trail and paused to rest in the courtyard outside of the Old North Church. I set my camera down on the bench beside me, relieved to be free from the 900 pound weight that it is, and McKay picked it up and started snapping. Granted, there are a lot of very blurry pictures of his feet and Chase's face, but this one really stood out and made me happy.

And we have several token touristy photos in the bunch, as well. Which really are photos only a mother (or grandmother) could love.

But I will end with this one, which might be one of my favorites taken on the trip. We had been walking for several hours in the heat and she appeared at my feet, begging to be carried. Not realizing, of course, that my days of carrying her ended as soon as she decided to sprout legs as long as the state of California.

But I like her heat-flushed cheeks, windblown hair, her baby freckles, and the tired sparkle in her green eyes. The imploring expression that is just seconds away from saying, "Mom..." followed by a plea of some sort. It's a face I've seen a thousand times.



And a face I'm sure to see a thousand more.