I have wonderful in-laws.
Truly, they are amazing. But, my
mother-in-law likes photos, and, I’m not exactly a fan of being IN
pictures. I’ve known my husband a long
time, so I remember a picture at his parent’s house of ME, a 5x7 print of me,
at my college graduation. I was
beaming—happy, proud, and relieved all at one time. But when I looked at that picture all I saw
was that my head was turned awkwardly and I had about a million chins. Maybe a billion. I asked him why his parents would have such
an awful picture of me in
their home. His answer didn’t sink in
for over a decade. “Because they love
you, and they’re proud of you, and it’s not awful.”
Like a lot of moms, when I had my babies I especially hated having my picture
taken. I had in my mind that I was puffy
and tired and without make up, and WHY on earth would I want to remember
that? I’m here to tell you, I am forever
grateful to friends and family who did take my picture—who INSISTED that I be
in the picture. Going back through
pictures of my early marriage and my first few precious years with my sweet
boys, I LOVE those pictures. I wish
there were more. I look at them and I
think, “Look how young I was. Look how
happy and healthy I was, and how much fun we were having.” I won’t lie, sometimes I also think, “Dang,
what is WITH that haircut!?” They are
all good reminders. Don’t misunderstand
me, I’m not nostalgic because life is less wonderful now. But I’m not 23 anymore. My boys are not babies anymore. You don’t get those days back.
My mother-in-law still loves pictures. She makes albums for each year. They are sorted and labelled and full of
decades of beautiful memories. And,
along with precious memories of family vacations and special people, I’m in
those albums. The young me, the less
young me, the skinny me on my wedding day, the first half marathon me, the nine
months pregnant me, the still pudgy first day home from the hospital with baby
me, the me-trying-to-lean-out-of-the-picture-please-don’t-take- my-picture-right-now
me. They’re all in there. I want to go back and tell them how it all
works out. I want to tell them to get
comfortable, to enjoy it, to have confidence that THAT body will carry you through
amazing times and places.
I want to encourage my mom friends…dads too. You don’t get do-overs. You won’t get younger. You will
want to remember that day on the beach, even if all you have of it is the picture
of you with your belly puckering and your hair blowing in your face with that
raccoon sunburn. Your kids will want
those pictures too. They don’t want
pictures of your arm around them with the rest of you cropped out. They don’t want pictures of you wearing that
pained look because there’s a camera in front of you. They want pictures of those special moments
where you (with your imperfect arms or your bad hair day or your
slightly-too-tight pants or your bathing suit wearing 40 year old self) are
giving them a big squishy hug and enjoying every second of it. You don’t want to look at them right
now? Fine. Put them away. But keep them. Don’t hit delete so fast, and don't get crop-happy. And, for the love of all things good, next time someone asks if you want to be
in the picture, say YES.
My favorite awful photo of 2014...
