We recently revealed to our kids that we would be taking a trip to Disney World in just a couple of weeks. We were so excited to tell them as we had been planning the trip for months. I wanted to wait until it was a little closer to departure before telling them since they just don’t have the best concept of time.
I presented them with a large gift bag, and inside the large gift bag was another gift bag. And inside that gift bag was another gift bag. Well, inside the gift bags were also parts of the sentence that said, once put together, “We are going to Disney World!” The girls were at the “we are going to ______” part, and they began to get super excited at the prospect of going to Berry Winkle, which is our local frozen yogurt shop. In my two year lapse in teaching, I had forgotten how truly literal children are, and when you tell them you are going somewhere, you better be taking them right then, and in their minds, the perfect place would be to Berry Winkle.
So when my oldest, who could read, saw that the card said “Disney World,” she presented me with a face full of confusion and quite honestly…disappointment. She really wanted to go to Berry Winkle. And you see, the grand finale of the present game was a paper chain that I slapped together moments before this spectacle with 18 links of construction paper taped together — one for each day before we leave. Shiloh, who is three years old, kept saying, “That was it? That was it?” (referring to the chain). Apparently, in her literal mind, a paper chain was not the “gift” she was expecting to receive.
I will chalk this one up to a parent fail. It definitely wasn’t your Disney Christmas commercial where there kids start crying and jumping up and down and the husband and wife hug romantically in the corner. Nope. At our house, we believe that big moments should really be shit shows, and why change our ways now?
We have all gotten over the initial shock and disappointment (on both sides), and now the kids are super excited to be leaving in a couple of weeks. They happily tear off a link of their paper chain each morning, making sure all three of them are there to take part.
I am now in the thick of making sure we have everything we need prior to leaving. I just ordered a fanny pack, which I am probably inappropriately excited about. I have started thinking about outfits and meals and all that comes with the planning of a family Disney trip.
It got me thinking about our last two trips to Disney World. We went once when my oldest was three (I wrote several blog posts about it, too). We went again when my oldest was five. And now we are going when my oldest is eight. I am excited to see how her interests have changed over the years. But mostly? I am excited to take pictures with my children.
Yes, with my children. Not just of my children. With my children. Because as I was combing through our past photographs, I found a mere handful of photos that I took with my kids on our first trip nearly five years ago, and I didn’t find any of my children with me from our last trip. Sure, I had pictures of them with every Disney character and princess you could find, but none of them with me. They had picture-perfect outfits and exceptionally adorable autographed items and everything was just so…but where was I? Why wasn’t I photographed with them?
There are two explanations for this phenomenon. The first is that I am the photographer of the family. I do it not only for fun but as a business. So when anyone needs photographed, I am the default person to get the job done. I am also a bit of a control freak and don’t trust my husband’s knowledge of the rule of thirds or composition or honestly just the ability to get the red box in the viewfinder on my face so that I am in focus and the background is not.
The second explanation as to why I am not in any photos with my children from our last couple of Disney trips is that I simply cannot stand the way I look. There, I said it. Like a lot of women, I battle pretty severe insecurity regarding my appearance. I will take a photograph of myself and critique it up one side and down the other. I will find hairs out of place on my head, zits on my face, a double chin, a back roll, a chubby thigh. You name it, and I will find it. I will see a belly pooch sticking over my shorts or I will detest the way my nostrils flare out when I am really, really laughing hard.
It’s a sickness. And unfortunately, it has kept me from being captured in time by photographs as I enjoy these memorable, fun trips with our children. My kids will look back on these photos one day, long after the actual first-hand memories of the trips have faded, and think, “Where was Mama?”
And the saddest, silliest part about it all is that to my children, I AM the Disney princess! They think I am beautiful! All children think their mamas are beautiful! They don’t see what I see. They don’t see stray hairs or a muffin top or a double chin! They see their mama. They love me. They want pictures with me.
They don’t know that there may be a part of their future that I will not be a part of. They don’t know that someday all they will have are these photographs. But I do. I do know this — and it is my job to make sure that they have photos with their mama. Thirty pounds heavier than what I want to be. Imperfect skin. Gray hairs poking through. But this year, it’s going to happen. I’m going to be in the photos.
Here’s a little note to the significant others:
Take the photo.
Even when she says, “No, I’m too fat.” Even when she says, “No, my outfit isn’t right.” Even when she says, “No, I don’t have makeup on.”
Take the photo.
Take her phone and do it, or use your phone and do it. There’s no excuse not to be documenting what you see — the way her children look at her. The way they giggle when she tickles them or squeal when she scares them or the way their hands look on the back of her neck when she holds them. She will want to see these things. I promise you this.
Take the photo.
She may put up a little resistance at first, but 5, 10, 15 years from now, she will love that you insisted that she be in the photos, too. These moments are so fleeting. Appearances are fleeting, too. She may not like the way she looks right now, but it likely won’t be what she looks like forever, and her children will want to remember her this way.
Please, just take the freaking photo.
