A man in uniform

My mother, like any normal woman, loves a man in uniform. I think that is why she married my dad--when she saw him looking so handsome and stunning in his turnouts she just couldn't say no! (I always thought that I would marry a firefighter for the same reason, but I guess that was not meant to be. Do dentists wear uniforms? Some wear scrubs...I guess that will have to be good enough.)

Anyway, my mother takes this love of a man in uniform to a higher level than anyone I have ever known. I would say it is probably an obsession. An obsession that she has taken around the world with her.

What? What's that? You don't believe me? Let's look at the evidence...

About two and a half years ago my mother and I took a trip around Europe. We went to three different countries--England, France and Italy--and in each country my mother found a police officer to take pictures with. I am pretty sure the only reason that she took me along with her was so that I could be a pawn in her little "find a cute man in a uniform and use my young daughter to entice them to take pictures with us" game. Well, it worked.

In London we found an officer with a really cool uniform. Here is my mom with a member of the Scotland Yard. We found him when we were taking the Underground to Chinatown. Isn't his hat just the best?

From there we went to Paris. I felt a little sheepish asking strange men who I did not know to take pictures with me. This is especially awkward when you do not speak the same language as the strange men, so you end up looking like a monkey as you point first to yourself, then to the man, then to the camera you are holding in your hand. "Me...You...Picture. Oooh oooh aah aah."

Luckily my mother took pity on me sometimes and instead told me to walk in the same general area as the police officer, and she would snap a picture of me. This is me complying with her obsessive desire.

And here I am taking a picture with the police officers in front of the Notre Dame. Want to hear a funny story? So my mom spots these guys and pushes me over towards them so that we can take a picture. I am mortified, but she is my mother, so I do it. Later we walk back over towards my aunt, uncle and cousins who happen to be in Paris at the same time we are. My aunt comes over to us and tells us that not five minutes before they had gone up to the same police officers, and asked them if their son Will could take a picture with them. Apparently the police officers had refused. I guess being a young adult woman is good for something...

And here I am in the train station in Paris.

Mom: "Oh, look there are some soldiers! Let's go take a picture with them!"

Me: "No Mom! It's so embarrassing! They will probably say no, then kick us with their huge boots!"

Mom: "I need their picture! Stand right there."

Me: "Wait, why? Awe, mom. This is so embarrassing."

And here I am in Florence. This guy was definitely the most friendly and accepting of all of the officers we asked to take pictures with. I think he called me "Bella blue eyes" as I was leaving. I guess he was a comedian, as well as a police officer.

And here we are in Rome, right next to the Spanish Steps. I gotta say that this guy's uniform is probably the best one we saw in all of our travels. He just looks so spiffy with his silver buttons and black tie.

But, do you think that my mother limits her obsession to overseas travels? Oh no no no.

Here we are in New York City. Guess who made us all take a picture with the cops. (Oh, by the way, the boy on the end with red hair is Will--I guess the American officers don't discriminate in who can take photos with them.)

And here she is in Santa Monica (or as our family likes to say: Santa Montica) with some officers. Sorry, I just have to say it--I definitely saved the best for last. Are those cops hot or what??