Sunday, September 22, 2013

I take pictures and my kids complain.

This weekend we had a picnic.  I like to call it the " It dropped below 1000 degrees so let's have a picnic" picnic.  

And yesterday we ate breakfast on the patio.  See gorgeous picture of muffins in a basket.   Totally Pinterest worthy pic, minus the plastic cups, I think.  But I am who I am, ... plastic cups and all.  

 And I took a picture of this tree in our backyard.  

And I took a picture of Ethan practicing guitar in the backyard.  This is his "stop taking my picture or I'll break your camera with my guitar" look.  

And we accidentally dropped Sam off for scouts at the wrong house.  But didn't drive off and leave him there.

And we went to the batting cages.  Where I spent about a million dollars to have Sam complain that something was wrong with the ball machine because he couldn't get any hits.  That is exactly why I never take them to the batting cages.... it's a man's job. I just sat there writing my grocery list and let the despair pass me by. 

Then we went to see daddy at the fire station where I sat beside the meat smoker all loaded up with a meat medley for dinner.  And left smelling like pork. 
And the boys played fire station football and had the best time ever. 

And of course their regular trip to the fire station roof.  They love it up there. Took a picture of that. Again. 

And the theme of this post is... I take pictures.  And my kids complain.  And they either pose for each pic, .. or they hide.... or make a threatening I'm going to kill you in your sleep face.  Never fear, they're very sweet actually.  Just camera shy.  And preteen and teen awkward that way. 

But when Ethan complained about me taking pictures of trees and muffins and HIM... I tried once again in my sweetest mom way to explain that these are moments I never want to forget. And I don't want them to forget either.  These are pictures that go in our family albums... our history book.  Pictures that will remind them of their basketball goal in the driveway, and the patio table where we eat so many meals, and of the bits and pieces of their childhood.  And to me those are giant bits and pieces. 

So I type this with curlers in my hair.  And I know my kids wish I would take a picture of that and stick it in the album.  Or on Facebook.  But I would tell them that what I share with the world is a truer picture of myself than any photo could show.  (That, and I'm very vain.)  Instead, I  tell people about my days, my family, my thoughts, hopes and disappointments.  And I invite them to share in the little moments that make up who we are.  To me... that is the picture worth sharing.

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