When my oldest son was a baby, I was neurotic about getting a picture of him done every month.  I thought that was what all new parents were suppose to do.

 Didn’t all new parents hit the mall once a month and get a picture taken? The place I would take him to get his pictures done had a schedule of when babies should be photographed during their first year of life. This became a bible to me. Like clockwork, I would dress him up in his best outfit, put a bib on him, and pray he didn’t explode through a diaper or bib. Smooth sailing, right? Of course not.

We would get there and he would need to eat, or want to sleep or be covered in spit-up. To me, it felt as though the world was coming to an end when the picture didn’t come out just how I had envisioned. Crazy, right?

Then I had my second son, and I was on a quest to capture their brotherly love in pictures. I would again, dress them up in matching outfits, and off we went, to capture the picture. Yet again, I faced the same obstacles, but now it was multiplied by two.

Not only would one child be crying or poop at the exact time they called our name for our session, it was now two kids. Once again I felt defeated. Couldn’t they just understand, I needed one picture? That was it. Just something to capture this great moment.

My quest was waning. Slowly I began to ignore the reminder e-mails, “where have you been,” “free 8 x10 with your next visit.” 

I have to admit, my third son could be the least photographed child, ever. I try to blame it on the fact my boys are very close in age. The thought of attempting pictures with three boys three and a half and under would make any person reconsider their mission.  I have to admit the first “professional” pictures of my youngest were not until he was nine months old. I remember leaving that session feeling like I had just ran a marathon. I was sweating, hot and exhausted!

Last week when we visited the Easter bunny in the mall, I couldn’t help but silently laugh at the mother standing in front of us. She had a beautiful three month old baby and was attempting to get her picture taken with the Easter bunny.  I started talking with her as we were waiting in line. She told me how excited she was for her daughter’s first Easter bunny picture. You could hear the intensity in her voice, there was no stopping this picture.

As we were waiting in line, the baby projectile vomited all over herself and the beautiful, perfect dress. The mom was devastated. I tried to tell her, part of the memory of that day, would be the vomit and the dress being ruined.  No such luck. She left in tears, and racing to a store to replace the dress. Poor mom, she will learn. 

Years from now, it will not matter what they were wearing in the picture, it will only matter that we have a picture to look at, and remember that very special time in their life.