Today was the day my son and husband have been dreading all year: family Christmas photo day. Although Jeremy can grin and bear it, and maybe even eventually crack a genuine smile, wringing one out of Ashton is almost impossible. While his lips may say, "Okay, okay, I'm smiling!", his eyes tell me another story. Most of it with words he would never ever say aloud to me, if he wanted to keep that thatch of goldilocks he prizes so much.
After a lazy Saturday morning of telling myself over and over, "I really need to get up and start getting things together for pictures", and half-hearted prompts for the kids to do things like shower, brush hair, gather clothes, etc., I finally started rushing around at 2pm, realizing I would swiftly lose my light if I didn't get moving STAT. This is my standard M.O., and seems to have worked for me fairly well in life (She said sarcastically).
I started racing around, while Ashton complained about having to actually leave his video game screens on a Saturday, and the girls tussled and shrieked over the bathroom mirror. I checked my car for my tripod and camera. Tripod, check. Camera... Camera. Where is my camera?? I hunted through every room in the house, which took me about one minute. Then I called Missy, who confirmed that I had, indeed, left my camera in her car after our photo session the other day. So we packed everyone in the car to head over to Missy's house. Halfway down our street, I finally tuned in to Ashton's shouting, saying that his seat (in the third row) was not up. He was just squatting in the back amongst the blankets and my tripod. Jeremy threw the car in park while I ran around back to fix the seats, hollering the whole time that he was about to miss the light and then he'd have to sit through it all over again and couldn't I hurry?? In my hurrying, after safely adjusting Ashton's seat, I attempted to jump directly into mine, a la Dukes of Hazzard. That did not go so well.
We picked up my camera, and headed to one of my favorite photo spots, Fort Monroe. Although I had envisioned something grassy and woodsy looking, after realizing I wouldn't have enough light to search for such a place, I settled for industrial and decayed looking.
I started out snapping photos of the kids first, while Jeremy found some fellow bikers to talk to. I have found that this is the best way to work during family photo time: get the kids' out of the way first, before they start melting down and nitpicking each other to pieces. Jeremy finding something to do was a definite plus.
After I had rushed the kids through their pictures, I added Jeremy and myself. Here comes the tricky part. I have the tripod and the remote. The remote can be finicky, and for some reason, I can never get it to do what I want without obviously and directly pointing it at the camera. Jeremy has learned to wield it a little better. Following a few prideful failed attempts on my part, I surrendered the remote to my husband and let him handle it.
Out of all of our (many, many) shots, I have one- one- photo of us all looking and smiling.
The rest look like this:
Lastly, I wanted to get a few pictures of Jeremy and me together. After having some issues with the camera focusing properly while on the tripod, a bitter argument broke out amongst the kids, each of them determined that they could take our photos better than the other. I handed the camera to Ashton, being oldest, tallest, and (I thought- more the fool me) most capable of taking direction. His first set of photos were focused completely on the corrugated metal of our backdrop. After telling him that I wanted our whole bodies in the photos, he took a dozen 3/4 shots and a few others from the knees up- would that be 1/4? This went on for several rounds of photos, with me correcting him each time. Each time, he defended himself. How he could assume that my entire body began just above my kneecaps, I don't know. Eventually, after several threats on my part, and much huffing and grunting on his part, he managed to get a few full body shots.
While all of this was happening, the girls had run to the nearby playground to swing. As we were taking our last shots, I heard Atleigh set up a hue and cry. My mother senses being immediately on high alert, I immediately told my husband, "Go see what her problem is", while I took down my camera equipment. Priorities.
Atleigh continued to walk toward us, crying with every step, while Chloe, my little grapevine, raced ahead to tell me that Atleigh had gotten a sand burr stuck on her tights. Definitely a job for Dad, who unstuck the burr while lovingly saying, "Oh, get over yourself! Don't you think I've gotten sand burrs too??"
We all piled into the car, heaving sighs of relief, Atleigh still sniffling, Ashton still rolling his eyes, Jeremy and I both ready for a beer (or three).
And that, my friends, is how to do family Christmas photos.
You may expect your Christmas cards in the mail soon.
Sounds about right!�� I want one!!!
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