Saturday, May 12, 2012
My church has this amazing photography ministry and I love to see all the photographer's pictures on Facebook where they take a model out to these beautiful remote spots, style her, and then take beautiful pictures and post them on Facebook. Every time I see those pictures, I secretly yearn to be one of those models. So, when I saw the above picture, I decided to ask Djae (the talented photographer) if he would take pictures of my family at this place with balloons. My idea was brilliant. I could just picture it: Me, in a flowy earthy type dress, with flawless make-up and perfect hair (like the models of course), with my beautiful family all giggly with joy playing with the balloons in an open field at sunset. Perfection...
I don't know why I still fool myself. I should know by now that I cannot be beautiful and glamorous while caring for 3 children ages 5 and under in the "wilderness." Our family photo shoots are the furthest thing from glamorous.
There I was in my newly purchased earthy flowy dress hiking up a hill with a runny- nosed cranky 1 year- old on my hip and two pre-schoolers close behind whining about the bugs flying in their faces and the weeds scratching their legs. By the time we reached our destination my perfectly done hair was sticking to my sweaty forehead and my make-up was being washed off by the sweat beads dripping down my face. I am sure the models have their make-up person waiting in the wings to touch up in such occasions...not me. Instead, I had two pre-schoolers announcing that they had to go pee reeeeeally bad. Nice! So, I did what any good mom would do, I sent my husband down the hill to the car to get the wipees, ordered Noah to find the nearest tree, left the baby with the unsuspecting photographer, and ran to a faraway bush with Maia. By the time all kids' bladders were empty, poor Malakai was crying and the poor photographer was probably making a mental note to tell future clients that under no circumstances may he be used as a babysitter.
We proceeded to try to get some decent pictures with a fussy 1 year old who seemed to be terrified of the camera, 2 kids complaining about "pickers" in their socks and on their legs , and 1 very un-glamorous sweaty mommy begging and bribing everyone to comply while trying to ignore all the prickly things that were stuck in my dress. All the while, I pictured myself running through the field like one of those glamorous models throwing my head back and laughing like I was having the time of my life with my perfect hair, make-up, dress, and jewelry.
Reality: I have missed my window of time to be glamorous. That word is no longer in my vocabulary.