I had something else planned for today but we had family pictures yesterday and that took everything out of me. Everything. There is nothing that brings the crazy out in me quite like some family pictures, from choosing the coordinating outfits to obsessing about everyone looking their best. This year started with me saying “Damn it, Owen” before we even left the house after my little guy had put a bike helmet on (after I had combed his hair) and spilled water down the front of him when he was supposed to be getting in the car. #motheroftheyear
I don’t know why I get so crazy about it and I tell myself every time that I won’t, but this year was rough. I learned (as if I didn’t already know) that you can’t make my baby girl do anything she doesn’t want to do. 20 months is a hard age for pictures, folks. HARD. My sweet husband wanted nothing to do with the pictures but he reluctantly agreed and tried to be a good sport about it when they were being taken. I’m pretty sure he won’t agree to the craziness again for at least two years.
And the funny thing is I’m sure there are some good shots. Something capturing our little family in all of its craziness in a picture perfect way. And years down the road, I’ll remember the day and what went on behind the pictures and I’ll laugh. Or maybe, I’ll block out the bad and I’ll remember it as a beautiful day at the park where my kiddos looked as cute as can be and were so sweet with one another. We’ll get that one or two shots like the one above that made the entire experience worth it.
But for now, I’m going to head up to bed, watch an episode of Ozark and crash because I am wiped out!