We recently had family portraits made. If you have small children, or if you have ever had small children, you know taking a family portrait is no small endeavor. Generally, taking a family portrait is pretty darned miserable.
It is miserable because you have to get ready, see. And you have to look nice. And any time you and your entire family have to get ready and look nice, bad things ensue. People start fighting and yelling, and everybody is miserable.
Where are your shoes? Get your shoes on! Get your shoes on! Did you put on your shoes? Sit down so I can fix your hair. Sit down so I can fix your hair. Sit down. Sit down. Did you just take that bow out of your hair? No! No jelly in your nice clothes! Don’t touch your brother!
Take this scenario, and multiply it by 84,000, and you will have my house on family portrait day. I scheduled the pictures to be taken at 6:30 p.m. on a Monday. My husband gets home from work at 6 p.m., so the bulk of readying the children was on me. We were taking our pictures on the beach at the lakefront, so my plan was for us all to look effortlessly casual in varying shades of white, a breeze blowing through our hair as we all laughed together like the adorably perfect family (I imagine) we are.
Here is how it went down. First the baby fell and bonked his head on the concrete, barely an hour before it was time to get dressed. It was like slow motion as I ran toward him in an attempt to prevent the fall–”Nooooooo! Not on picture day!” But of course, on picture day. And of course it left a huge, red goose egg right in the middle of his forehead. And of course my 6-year-old was attacked by mutant mosquitoes that same morning, leaving enormous welts the size of small apricots all over his arms and neck.
Once it was time to get ready, nobody wanted to cooperate with me. Nobody wanted to get dressed. Nobody wanted to put on shoes or get their hair brushed or allow me to brush my hair. The baby clung to my leg and whined, “Mommy hold you! Mommy hold you!” (translation: “Mommy, please pick me up immediately.”) while I attempted to curl my hair. But I got it done, I got them dressed, and they looked adorable. My husband was impressed when he walked through the door.
And then I noticed something blue on the baby’s face. And on the front of his romper. And when he opened his mouth, I saw blue, blue and more blue.
“The blue! The blue! Where is it coming from? OH MY GOSH THE BLUE!!!!” I started shouting.
My husband thought I was insane.
I rushed at the baby and tackled him to the floor, digging my fingers into his mouth. A blue crayon. He had been chewing it, and now he was drooling it, and it was getting everywhere, and we had to leave for our family portraits in like four minutes. So I’m trying to remove the crayon from his mouth, and he’s gagging and sputtering, and the crayon is all embedded into the little crevices in his 2-year molars, and I had to brush it out with a toothbrush. Finally it was gone.
Just in time for my 4-year-old to wet her pants. Oh, yes, she did. Like, 14 seconds before we were supposed to walk out the door, and yes, she was in her adorable white dress I had bought specifically for her beach photography session.
“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.”
But she wasn’t kidding.
“Just go outside, Betsy,” my husband said quietly. “Just go. I’ll handle it.”
He did handle it. And miracle of miracles, she didn’t wet on her dress (much). We arrived at the lakefront, where the children immediately threw themselves into the sand and wiped it all over their faces. Since it was approximately 700 degrees, they were covered in sweat, and the sand stuck to them and wouldn’t come off. And then we were attacked by stinging flies, the likes of which I never knew existed until that very moment.
But the lakefront was picturesque, and the kids smiled for the camera (when we tickled the heck out of them), and here is the miracle–our photographer shot a beautiful family portrait with everyone smiling and looking in the same direction, and I have no idea how she managed to pull it off.
I’ll tell you this much. That picture better last us a long time. I’m still upset about the stinging flies..
(Betsy Swenson can be reached at sliindelife@gmail.com.)
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