Months and months ago, I set a date to have family pictures taken by Brushfire Photography.
That day, lords and ladies, is today. I’m excited, but I’m not one of those awesome moms that shows at at photo shoots with adorable props, coordinating outfits, and super original pose ideas. To quote my daughter, I’m just regoo-ler.
And that’s okay. Honestly, if I did hang family pictures on our wall of us in coordinating clothes and cute poses, everyone would say “Why do you have a big picture of strangers on your wall?” And I’d have to go through the painstaking process of explaining that the perfectly posed and coordinated people on my wall were actually US. And then I’d have to endure their stifled laughter.
So it’s really better this way. My husband picked out some clothes for us that sort of match, and we’re taking along a change of clothes for more relaxed and funzy pictures.
But really.
I wish yesterday could have gone a little better.
As I’m scheming and thinking of picture ideas, my children were terrible and awful. They haven’t been THIS terrible and awful since I don’t know when. All I know is that I was frantically texting my husband, who had to stay late at work, and letting him know that Mama was on the verge of bursting into tears.
The kids fought ALL day long. She stole his toys repeatedly and then she chased him around the house for the sole purpose of hearing him scream. And scream he did. He’d scream all the way to my side, and by the fifth time it had happened, I hurled him back into the game and commanded that he GET HER BACK and NOT PUT UP WITH BEING CHASED. So he did. And a few seconds later, a screaming girl was at my side, claiming “he HIT me!” to which I replied, “Well it’s about time!”
And that’s when I knew something was up. Mothers should never condone bad behavior. Frazzled mothers often do, though, on account of the frazzledness.
I got a lot done yesterday -never mind the little dears -and that felt pretty good. I made homemade laundry soap, four loaves of zucchini bread (the little darlings sabotaged an entire loaf while it cooled, but never mind that as well), made and canned salsa, did the dishes, folded the laundry, made phone calls, and I even got to BATHE.
As I went to put away some laundry I had folded, I came across this (please note that “picked up the hallway” was NOT on my list of things I accomplished yesterday):
My son taught himself how to use scissors. How maddeningly proud I am. I love it when my kids teach themselves how to do something. I puff up my chest, but only so long as it takes me to get the vacuum… and I didn’t even get that chance. Because as I took that picture, my son came and told me that the girl done pooped.
On.
A.
Tree.
In.
My.
Front.
Yard.
And that was it. I cashed in my sanity card and the texts to my husband became nearly hostile.
I reported the pooper and got no sympathy at all. He thought it was funny, but it wasn’t. So help me, it was NOT!
Stop laughing!
By the end of the night, I guzzled a brownie, washed it down with milk and then went straight to bed.
Today we’re going to take family pictures.
Today we’re going to like each other, even if we have to FAKE it.
Today we’re going to make memories that we’ll look at in 15 years and say “awwww…”
But most of all, we’re going to steer clear of trees…
Speak Your Mind