The Queen's Rambles

I used to have these fancy visions of my kids going to the portrait studio and getting amazing, Anne Geddes quality photos while my kids behaved like little angels.

That vision should have been destroyed when Erik was a baby. The first portrait session was a nightmare, and nothing has really improved. We usually do end up with a few good shots, so it’s worth it. It wasn’t until Elsa came along and I suddenly had to wrangle two cranky children that I realized my life is not some rom-com family friendly, happy-go-lucky, aren’t-those-the-cutest-kids-hamming-it-up movie.

I’ve been dreading picture day for weeks, but I still insist that we go and get them done. I love the results. LOVE. I want to take beautiful pictures of my children, but I fully admit that I have awful photography skills. Everyone claims department store photo shoots are generic or cheesy or whatever, but I happen to like the pictures even if it is hell to get them.

Usually we can at least get out the door before the problems start, but not today. I wanted the kids to be shiny, so I gave them a bath. Elsa didn’t want to get out of the tub and got aggressive. Have I mentioned how fierce this child is? And strong? She pulled the shower curtain and brought the whole rod down on her head, leaving a big red mark. Thankfully it didn’t bruise.

While I was dealing with her, Erik was in the other bathroom making his hair “look sharp” with a pair of curved nail scissors. It is not a complete disaster, but he was angry because he couldn’t make his hair “sharp” enough and wanted me to try. Apparently “sharp” hair, is hair that is cut straight across the bangs. In my day we called that super-dork-o-rama hair.

Meanwhile, I was trying to comb Elsa’s wet hair, but her latest defense against the evils of grooming is simply standing on her head. Let’s get that hair nice and tangly!

Eventually I gave up and went to prepare an early lunch so the kids wouldn’t be hungry. While I was doing that, Elsa started screaming. Then Erik started screaming. Then they both appeared, and Elsa has a small, prickly round brush completely tangled in her hair. A case of the “Me do it!” struck again.

Eventually I got them both settled, fed, brushed and spritzed. Erik didn’t want to wear the sweater I wanted him to wear, but the other choice was waaaaaay to big and would have been silly. Elsa wanted to wear her princess dress, but I didn’t want her to wear it in the car. I have no idea how little girls are supposed to wear big poofy dresses and still use a car seat.

We arrived at the studio, and of course they were running way behind. Everyone and their dog (literally–a friend of mine was there with her new puppy!) was taking advantage of the no school day to get pictures done.

Somehow the kids held it together and it all worked out. We eventually had our turn and it was not a complete screaming disaster. Elsa didn’t start crying until the very end. Erik sort of listened to directions. It could have been much worse. Elsa is a wily little 2 1/2 year old, though, and would not cooperate at all. She really didn’t understand what she was supposed to be doing, and Erik did not help the situation by trying to overcompensate for her.

Still. No screaming!

And you know the best thing about not getting a load of really great pictures? Much easier to make a small order! Truly, you only need one good pic of each kid and one good group pic. What do you do with a million great pictures? I have memories of years past stored away in envelopes because I don’t have anyone to share them with. I have some of my very favorites displayed, but I could seriously wall paper my whole house in kid pics if I wanted. I think seven pics in the living room is enough.

There were so many good ones of Erik I’m really not sure what to do with them all. Start sending them out to model agencies? I am totally mommy-biased, but I swear he is such a good looking kid he could be on the cover of any magazine. Elsa is beautiful, too, but she does not enjoy having her picture taken. I wish I could get a picture that captures what I see when I look at her. Her expression almost always turns dark when the camera is turned on. Maybe next year she’ll be happier.