If you're like me, you have hundreds of pictures of your children, of your children with your husband, of your children with your parents, of your children with the neighbor - with the neighbor's dog – but only about four of you with your children.
You say it's because you're the family photographer and historian – no one ever thinks to take the camera out of your hands and take a picture. But if you are, in fact, like me, the real reason is you hate your profile:
My dad always told me I had a ski slope for a nose (which, by the way, is totally HIS nose).
Or maybe you dread the obligatory double, sometimes triple, chin (does anyone see a neck in this picture?):
Or – Or - you have some physical defect you stay blissfully unaware of until you see pictures of yourself. I have one that is actually literally exacerbated by pictures. I was born with several unrelated defects in my right eye (a congenital eyelid ptosis and Duane's Syndrome) and between the surgery for the ptosis and the syndrome itself, and depending on camera flash or the direction I am looking in, it's phenomenally worse:
You can see it a little bit here. I only recently learned the name for it (Duane's Syndrome); it's supposedly rare. A good half of every picture I take, if at the wrong angle, highlights the disparity between my eyes, and sometimes looks ghoul-ish. So I tend to avoid being photographed.
But I've recently realized I need to get in the picture already.
On this day, the light was good. And I had bothered to put on a little makeup for dinner out with friends. And so I begrudgingly gave up creative control and handed over the camera to my husband. Yeah, there were some blurry shots. And fakey smiles. And a bunch where one of us wasn't looking at the camera.
But there were also those precious few.
The ones I'll look back and love not because they're picture-perfect and frame-ready. But because they remind me of the way we were.
See how the baby almost looks like an afterthought in the above picture? Like I'm barely hanging on to her? Oh well. At least we have one of the three of us.
Evyn turned four last weekend and we went to a pumpkin farm (pics to come). I gave the camera to James. See my Special Occasion Pimple? Back in the day I called it The Wedding Zit because it always, without fail, showed up when I was in a wedding. Right there. In the middle of my forehead. What's that? You don't see it? Trust me, it's there. (which brings up another point: sometimes no one notices all that stuff but you)
My solution to those kind of days? Turn to the side and do a kissy face.
Or just play.
There's that nose. Grr. Oh well. I look like I'm having fun with my baby, don't I? That's what I'll remember when I revisit these pictures the day Ashlyn leaves for college…
I wanted one with Evyn, too. I have a number of pictures like this:
But I eventually got this:
So here's your challenge this week. Take advantage of a day when you've bothered to put on some blush, and go outside or get near a window and hand someone the camera. Tell the picture-taker to just snap away while you fart around with the kids and try not to worry too much about your hair and your chin(s) and the fat roll. You'll look better if you just relax a little. Yes, it's kind of a hassle. It takes a few minutes that you'd rather be putting toward the dishes or dinner or a phone call. And you'll have to take thirty pictures to get three you love. But you'll have them. And your kids will have them. And if you're a blogger, your readers will get to take a look at ya once in a while (if you dare to post them).