Click, click, boom

If I were a contender in the Mommy Olympics I might post something on Facebook like “Supermom took three kids to get their pictures taken today, then out for lunch afterwards, how sweet is that!?”

Since my entry into said Olympics would be laughable, instead I will tell you that even with a ratio of 1:1 (my mother in law accompanied Tim and me on this incredible journey) I was overwhelmed. Getting three kids to sit down (or stand up, or just stand still), smile (or just stop crying) and look at the camera (or past the camera and at Mommy, or in the other direction, at Daddy, but FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CAN WE ALL BE LOOKING IN THE SAME PLACE AT THE SAME TIME) is difficult. I recommend a full tactical special forces team if you actually have a goal in mind besides “look, we have three kids who were at one point awake in the same room together and not arguing over toys or debating the relative merits of Yo Gabba Gabba vs. The Backyardigans.” (At this point Tim would like to point out that Pablo from the Backyardigans is absolutely far superior to anyone else.)

As I predicted, I didn’t even bother letting the photographer take pictures of Lily in the little outfit that I picked out this morning, but she was a champ for the blanket pictures, laughing and cooing and being generally adorable. She was a little over it when it came time for the christening gown shots but smiled and we got some good ones. And then…we pushed our luck.

My mother in law made the girls beautiful Christmas dresses and wanted a shot of all three girls in said dresses. All three girls together in said dresses. See two paragraphs up and you can imagine how that went. Lily was done. Not having it one bit. The photographer tried to hand her to Mary. Four year olds are amazing baby holding experts. Mary tried. Lily slumped. Her head tilted backwards. And then she let out a scream that would take down the walls and my mother in law and I hastily said at the same time, “or maybe just the older girls.”

Anna played shy. Mary played “I’m too cool for all of this and I’m not going to give you a real smile” but then got into things and took her little sister along for the ride, so my father in law’s office walls will have one really great shot of two of my kids, and one really great shot of the baby, and if we put them in the same frame, well, that pretty much counts as three kids in the same picture, right?

Right?!

The best shot of the Christmas dresses turned out to be the one Tim took of Mary, hamming it up in front of Bertucci’s afterwards.

Who says the promise of pizza doesn’t fix everything?

Twas the night before pictures

It started innocently enough, with a few shots in between outfits, about four years ago at a Picture People in the mall. At my in laws’ insistence, we were gathered together to get pictures of a five month old Mary, this first time mom having missed the memo that digital prints weren’t enough, nay, the fact that my child had reached almost six months of age without being plunked before a canvas backdrop and photographed by strangers smacked of my ignorance and possible neglect of my precious firstborn.

Or something along those lines. I’m a little hazy on the details. I had not, however, missed the compulsion to dress my baby to the nines, so aside from her absolutely gorgeous christening gown, I had also chosen for Miss Mary to be photographed in a perfectly coordinated pink panda bear outfit from Gymboree. We had the little pink sweater hat, the body suit with collar detailing, the jeans with panda bears on the legs and, of course, a pink sweater with bears, white socks with detailing and little black patent leather shoes. She looked adorable.

So of course when the photographer brought out samples to show us (of course they were put into frames to show us just what we were missing if we went with the bargain packages), I was amazed that the best shots of my daughter were of her in just a diaper, her huge blue eyes peeking out from beneath some pink blanket the photographer had produced from a props bucket. She looked so sweet, so innocent, so perfectly chubby baby that I had to have that shot, and two like it, in a cherry frame, matted. And of course I had to have a framed photograph of Miss Mary in her christening gown, because that was the whole reason we were there anyway and what kind of mother doesn’t want her daughter’s first foray into Christian life memorialized? (Just when you think you don’t ‘do’ Mommy guilt, it turns out you just might. It’s insidious!)

Two years later, it was Anna’s turn. I’m sure I picked out a cute outfit for her to wear to her pictures but I can’t remember what it was. The best shots were the blanket shots again. Another frame on the wall, this time my skinny little brunette baby who couldn’t quite fully sit up well looking out at me with her sweet, serene expression. (Yes, the toddler I now lovingly call ‘honey badger’ was once extremely mellow. No, I can’t believe it, either.) Something about the simplicity of the shot, unencumbered by hats and bows and whatever else Gymboree had to go with the outfit, showed me Anna the way she was: Sweet, but with a look I couldn’t quite place in the eyes, a look we now know heralds a child covered in paint, or pudding, announcing “I killed a yeti.” (Oh yeah, that happened.)

So tomorrow it’s Lily’s turn. Lily, who is entirely like and unlike her sisters all at once, who seems to thrive on no sleep, who will wear the requisite white gown her sisters wore for the formal photographs her sisters already have. But it’s almost 10 p.m. and I haven’t picked out anything else for her to wear. I’ll bring a soft blanket and call it good, and two or three years from now, when she’s trying to read, or attempting to strangle the cat, or running down the hall with a bucket on her head screaming out lyrics to “Tangled,” I’ll look back at that simple shot and say, “Yep. That’s her.”