I have always LOVED pictures. Even before I was a photographer, I took a lot of pictures.
Today, on Mother’s Day, my youngest (now 12) asked me to find a photo of us together from when she was young.
My mom-sense told me she wanted to post a picture of us on Social media. Probably with some sweet caption about how I’m the best.
So I’m clearly vested in finding her a picture. I mean, who wouldn’t want to read a social media post professing your own greatness, by a child who, on every other day of the year finds you completely lame?
The problem is this: I don’t exist in pictures before 2011 (ish).
Which makes me a little bit sad. Maybe a lot sad. I mean, why would my younger self not want to jump into pictures with my own babies?
The truth is that I didn’t like the way I looked. I didn’t like myself in pictures. I was never thin enough. My hair was never done. My clothes weren’t right.
But that’s who I was. And thats who they looked at with loving eyes every day. Just because I didn’t exist in pictures, it doesn’t mean I walked around fooling everyone. I looked how I looked and I was their mom and they loved me.
And quite frankly, I haven’t gotten any better with age. I’m not wine.
But I have gained wisdom, and part of that is the willingness to allow myself to be photographed with the people I love.
Like my hubs did. On Father’s Day the kids will have a plethora of photos to proclaim his greatness. But today, there’s nothing of me.
Oh wait, there’s this one, the photographer at SeaWorld caught me doing what I did.
Kind of sad that this is the only photo from our trip to Florida that I appear in.
I’m not trying to guilt you into booking a session. You don’t need us to capture you. Set up a self-timer. Take 1000 and choose the best 3. Who cares. Just get in pictures with your people. Snapshots are valuable. All of the above are snapshots (except the Seaworld photo).
And if you’re like me, and decades have passed without you stepping into the frame, it’s not too late. I know it doesn’t get easier. I’m sorry we are taught to pick ourselves apart and loathe our looks. But we have never hated a picture of our own mothers, and our kids will treasure photos of us. I always say, “one day your children will look for pictures of you” – today that day came for me. And she couldn’t find them.
Happy Mother’s Day to all you Mom-babes.