Remember your late teens when it seemed like all you did was attend graduation parties in the summer? Then that morphed into parties, lake days and a whole lot of beautiful summer hours of nothing, college classes and open time…which ended all too quickly and was replaced by summer after summer of bachelorette parties, weddings and arranging plans around so-and-so’s festivities?

Well…now that I’m in my *cough* extended 20s…haha…I feel like I’m slowly progressing out of the weddings stage and into the babies.

Holy. Preggo. Bellies. Er’where. Batman.

It’s like everywhere I turn, there’s a baby. Or a grown person who used to be a baby. Which starts me on this whole thought-tangent of how we have all been babies and why is it only cute to be fat when you’re too young to even eat Chinese take-out right out of the container alone in your kitchen while binging on Netflix and thinking about how you have four nearly empty containers of different kinds of ice cream and wouldn’t that just make for the best impromptu sundae after the Chinese cookies has been smashed and devoured…I bet there’s frozen strawberries shoved somewhere under the green beans and to the left of the supreme pizza…do I even have all the ingredients to make fudge?…I bet I do…if I don’t, it surely warrants a run over to the neighbors…but that’s for another post. Or maybe not.

Note to self :: turn down the crazy…but still order Chinese sometime soon. To share.

Maybe.

Anywho. Babies. My best friend is pregnant. I’ve photographed more newborn and maternity sessions in the past two months than I have anything else. Two out of the seven awesome ladies I hung out with last night at volleyball were boasting swollen bellies {and not because of the delicious mini corn dogs or chicken bacon ranch wraps…I think it might be time for lunch?}. I have a cousin on each side of my family who are going to pop sometime this summer and, I swear, there has been either a pregnancy announcement or a welcome to the world baby X declaration on Facebook at least three times a week for the past month or more.

Babies are all up in it and I, for one, am loving that I get to love on all of these fruits of someone elses’ labor.

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