Failure is horrible. Right?
Remember what it was like the first time you failed, and failed miserably? How did that affect who you are today? Did you change the way you approached something, how you dealt with situations in later years, did it make you re-think how you handled a task, or even your responses to someone?
I am of the firm belief that failure teaches us. First and foremost, it teaches us humility. Something that our society, and a new generation of young people don't necessarily have much of now days. We will be surely facing a group of young people, many of whom will be completely deflated, as they face the first time they weren't awarded for 'showing up'. Living under the grand delusion that they are so unique, they will eventually become cynical beings who learned too late in their lives that even though we are all unique, wonderful characters in our own right, we really aren't that much different from our fellow man. No sparkly, shiny 'happily ever after' in sight, they will miss the teachable moments. They will miss out on the upside of failure, the ability to learn something new.
Edison, Ford, and Einstein were blissful failures at many points in their lives. Those failures of their own making ensured that we had new understandings, deeper meanings, and a better quality of life. I do not make these things up. Look up the real history behind these men, you will find that (and is usually the tale we tell our grade school children who struggle with math) Einstein failed math in grade school ~ miserably. The difference in he and others? They had the ability to look beyond the failure, press onward, hope that there might be some other way to accomplish what was needed to succeed.
Missing too, is the opportunity to reflect on past errors. There's a camaraderie with parents when they share their tales of parenting horrors. "Been there, done that" is almost dismissive. Assuring one another that being human, making an error, learning how to correct our past failings, it brings us closer together as people. You are not alone....
When our parents were growing up, some of their parents imparted the past failures of their lives so that they would not have to replicate the same mistake. Alas, much as in human nature, children do not always heed their parents' cautionary tales of mistakes. They, in turn, suffer many of the same failures, or worse, create even more issues that were not there to begin with. No matter what we do, inevitably, our children will forge their own path in this world, making some of the same mistakes along the way. It is our responsibility to be there. Not to pick them up every time, but to re-assure them that they are still valuable, productive members of society, and that this is just a temporary set back, NOT the end of the world.
Think about a given trade or career. A world class chef will tell you that there were numerous failed attempts at dishes that they are now renowned for. An engineer learns, not only from his own mistakes made, but studying previous mistakes made by others. A successful businessman will tell you that they studied other's mistakes, as well as their own, in order to 'build a better widget'.
Failure teaches us to become more industrious, 'think outside of the box', manage our time better, become better stewards in society, and above all, allows us to be human. When something doesn't go 'our way', we don't need to have a melt down, nor do we have to beat ourselves up (although, most likely, many of us will do one of those things at one point or another). It allows us to empathize with others, letting them know that they are not alone in their daily dilemma. It brings us together, allows us to care, makes us more human, and gives us the opportunity to allow ourselves to recover.
So, let your kid fail now, when they're young. Allow them for those moments of disappointment in themselves. Assure them that it is part of the learning process. They will become more well-rounded, clearer thinking adults when they have to face those demons in later years.
As Alexander Pope once wrote: "To err is human; to forgive, Divine".
Isn't it nice to think that we are modeling the concept of our Maker, who, upon seeing our faults, still loves us, no matter what? With that, we can move on to be better, wiser souls.
Santa Lives in Sun City
Labor Day ~ food stuffs to make, things to grill, and me, without any of it readily available. I've been cleaning the house and doing laundry for 3 hours. It's time for my escape. My son gives me the opportunity, and offers me the opening, requesting ribs and sausages for the grill. I willingly comply with the request, packing my purse, armed with a phone and a debit card.
A ten minute drive to the local grocery store, music blaring, windows rolled down (the air conditioner in the car doesn't work), as the automatic transmission slips grudgingly with each gear. I am free of the housework that begs to be completed, even if it is only for a short respite.
As I begin my trek into the store, my mind whirls around the family finances. I won't be able to buy the ribs that my son wants, they're much too expensive for us. Maybe I can find a few pieces of meat on sale, ones that might 'do the trick' and I can always use the chicken in the freezer. I muddle around in my mind's eye what our meal will look like. Fresh corn, a couple of kabobs with red meat, a package of sausages, all on sale, are what our celebratory meal will be. It's expensive, even on sale, but we don't get the chance to spend time together and eat leisurely on a regular basis.
My heart begins to feel weighed down by the burdens of my world. I begin trudging back to the soda aisle to pick up our afternoon beverages. My face must have looked grim for certain, and then, he showed up.
Out of nowhere, a man was standing next to me. Older, with a white beard and a smile on his face. He looked like any other gentleman that could be wandering in the store. Nothing terribly special in his appearance. Nothing, except his eyes that were peering through a set of glasses. They were a piercing blue, and they were within a foot of my own.
He was leaning in toward me. Putting a hand on my shoulder, he cheerily exclaimed "Smile!"
Taken aback, I took one step away, breathed deep, and tried to put on my best smile for the nice old man.
"Of course, I should smile." I responded half-heartedly. My breathe barely pushing out my response in an audible tone.
"No! No, no, no! That will not do! I mean, you should smile! It's a beautiful day. There is so much that you and I can smile about. So much!" Grinning ear to ear, he patted my back, and held out his hand, as though to point me in the direction that I would be walking in.
"Oh, you're right." I had a tried and true response. One that I use when I need to remind myself that I'm not infirmed, one that puts the point home that I am capable, if I chose to be.
"I'm upright, breathing, and on the right side of the green." My smile put a twang of happiness that really wasn't quite there into my pat response.
"No my dear girl. That's not what I mean." He had to have seen the puzzled look on my face when he was trying to correct me.
"Sweetheart, there is so much that we can smile about. We are both here, standing in a place, able to make a purchase. We are here for others, getting things that will make them smile. If you think about it, there isn't a day that goes by that you don't make someone else happy, make them smile." The warmth of his voice was like a hug from my daddy.
"I am simply here to remind you that you should be happy, you should smile. Think of every day as having a little bit of Christmas in it. There's always something magical that happens, if you look for it." His grin, grown full, depicted that of a soul that was truly happy. His eyes, how they twinkled, his dimples, how merry......
I stared at him, looking into his eyes, and felt a rush of warmth come over my heart. In return for his words of encouragement, I smiled. This time, genuinely, a big smile. My voice trembled a bit, overcome with a bit of emotion that snuck up inside of me, and I whispered a 'thank you' to him.
I turned to say something more, and he was gone.
Walking away, my heart filled with hope. The kind of hope that you get around the holidays. Hope that encourages. Promises of better things, and feelings that come when you think there's a chance that your situation will turn around, sooner than later. Tears welled up and fell silently on either cheek.
Picking up my last bits of items, I made my way to the check out line. I kept looking for 'him'. The older gentleman was no where to be seen. The cashier was pleasant, and nothing else remarkable occurred on my way out. I even waited a moment in the parking lot, thinking that I could catch just one more glimpse of him, but I didn't.
Driving home, I realized that Santa lives in Sun City Center. Maybe he was looking for me, maybe it was a chance meeting. Either way, he's sharing his message of hope, reminding whomever he meets, that even on Labor Day, we can celebrate the grateful heart of Christmas. And just to make sure, we can smile.
A ten minute drive to the local grocery store, music blaring, windows rolled down (the air conditioner in the car doesn't work), as the automatic transmission slips grudgingly with each gear. I am free of the housework that begs to be completed, even if it is only for a short respite.
As I begin my trek into the store, my mind whirls around the family finances. I won't be able to buy the ribs that my son wants, they're much too expensive for us. Maybe I can find a few pieces of meat on sale, ones that might 'do the trick' and I can always use the chicken in the freezer. I muddle around in my mind's eye what our meal will look like. Fresh corn, a couple of kabobs with red meat, a package of sausages, all on sale, are what our celebratory meal will be. It's expensive, even on sale, but we don't get the chance to spend time together and eat leisurely on a regular basis.
My heart begins to feel weighed down by the burdens of my world. I begin trudging back to the soda aisle to pick up our afternoon beverages. My face must have looked grim for certain, and then, he showed up.
Out of nowhere, a man was standing next to me. Older, with a white beard and a smile on his face. He looked like any other gentleman that could be wandering in the store. Nothing terribly special in his appearance. Nothing, except his eyes that were peering through a set of glasses. They were a piercing blue, and they were within a foot of my own.
He was leaning in toward me. Putting a hand on my shoulder, he cheerily exclaimed "Smile!"
Taken aback, I took one step away, breathed deep, and tried to put on my best smile for the nice old man.
"Of course, I should smile." I responded half-heartedly. My breathe barely pushing out my response in an audible tone.
"No! No, no, no! That will not do! I mean, you should smile! It's a beautiful day. There is so much that you and I can smile about. So much!" Grinning ear to ear, he patted my back, and held out his hand, as though to point me in the direction that I would be walking in.
"Oh, you're right." I had a tried and true response. One that I use when I need to remind myself that I'm not infirmed, one that puts the point home that I am capable, if I chose to be.
"I'm upright, breathing, and on the right side of the green." My smile put a twang of happiness that really wasn't quite there into my pat response.
"No my dear girl. That's not what I mean." He had to have seen the puzzled look on my face when he was trying to correct me.
"Sweetheart, there is so much that we can smile about. We are both here, standing in a place, able to make a purchase. We are here for others, getting things that will make them smile. If you think about it, there isn't a day that goes by that you don't make someone else happy, make them smile." The warmth of his voice was like a hug from my daddy.
"I am simply here to remind you that you should be happy, you should smile. Think of every day as having a little bit of Christmas in it. There's always something magical that happens, if you look for it." His grin, grown full, depicted that of a soul that was truly happy. His eyes, how they twinkled, his dimples, how merry......
I stared at him, looking into his eyes, and felt a rush of warmth come over my heart. In return for his words of encouragement, I smiled. This time, genuinely, a big smile. My voice trembled a bit, overcome with a bit of emotion that snuck up inside of me, and I whispered a 'thank you' to him.
I turned to say something more, and he was gone.
Walking away, my heart filled with hope. The kind of hope that you get around the holidays. Hope that encourages. Promises of better things, and feelings that come when you think there's a chance that your situation will turn around, sooner than later. Tears welled up and fell silently on either cheek.
Picking up my last bits of items, I made my way to the check out line. I kept looking for 'him'. The older gentleman was no where to be seen. The cashier was pleasant, and nothing else remarkable occurred on my way out. I even waited a moment in the parking lot, thinking that I could catch just one more glimpse of him, but I didn't.
Driving home, I realized that Santa lives in Sun City Center. Maybe he was looking for me, maybe it was a chance meeting. Either way, he's sharing his message of hope, reminding whomever he meets, that even on Labor Day, we can celebrate the grateful heart of Christmas. And just to make sure, we can smile.
One Large, to Go.....
I have to tell you a secret, I don't cook dinner on Thursdays.
OK, so the crew at the local pizza shop knows that I don't..... alright... the kids at the grocery store where I pick up the sodas know it too. But that's it, other than you. It's a guilty pleasure that makes me smile, every Thursday. It's a break from the dinner dishes, the prepping, planning, and cooking of a meal. My family is fed, my teens happy for the ritualistic treat, and I can enjoy an evening of relaxation.
Pizza.... go ahead, say the word out loud ~ no one's around. You smiled when you said it, didn't you? Now, another exercise (bear with me friend, I promise you, it is necessary). Think of various times that you've eaten pizza. Remember them? Good.
From an educated guess, most, if not all of your memories are positive, maybe even really happy. They are ones, like my Thursdays. I would even venture that there were parties surrounded by a few of those slices, or a grateful boss that sprang for a snack to show his appreciation for a finished project.
Oh, the left over pizza you had after a long evening of frivolity? Weren't you glad that you had THAT as a 'go to'? College dinner/breakfast? See what I mean, you can't think of, eat, or say 'pizza' and be miserable. You just can't help but crack a bit of a smile.
My favorite memory of pizza is from a long time ago, when I worked in the family deli, where we made the treat that makes smiles. Daddy had just opened his business that week. It was a summer day, and I was ready to make subs, dish up home-made salads and beans, and of course, make pizza.
New business owners tend to do this huge mental build up in their mind's eye of how their first days will be. Bustling and exceedingly busy is the hopes that they all place their lofty thoughts. The reality of still moments that lead to quiet hours finally set in.
The small town we lived in was supportive. More so, our neighbors and family friends. This one particular Saturday was quiet. A few people trickled in, ordered a bit of cold cuts, a pound of this, a hoagie or two. The large, antiquated, brick-lined oven had been sitting patiently, waiting to be thrust into service.
'Pépé Lorde' strolled into the front door that day. He was our next door neighbor, and our family had 'adopted' him and his wife as surrogate grandparents. Pépé was old and wore a hearing aide. He and his wife lived with their daughter, son-in-law, and their teenage children. Seeing Pépé walk through the door made me smile. He ordered a large pizza. Daddy said I could make it, and with his supervision, did so. While the pizza was baking in the oven, the two men talked and walked around the small floor of the deli. Daddy pointed out what he had done, and what he was planning to do, once business picked up.
I got to 'ring up' the sale, and had to figure tax, as the deli's first cash register was an antique. Pépé glowed with pride as he watched me, and praised me for my prowess. "Geez Larry, not only can she cook, she can do math! She'll make someone a fine wife!"
A bit embarrassed, but proud of my accomplishment, I thanked Pépé for shopping with us. Daddy shook his hand and thanked him for the business and asked that they let us know how their meal was. As we retreated behind the deli counter, Pépé opened the front door of the deli and stepped out onto the large form-made concrete stairs. As he closed the door behind him, he appeared to look around with pride at his new gastronomical acquisition. Then, as though he had done so a million times before, turned the pizza box on it's side and wedged it under his left arm, as if he were carrying the Sunday paper.
Daddy and I groaned. I started out after Pépé, but my father grabbed me by my arm and stopped me. He pulled me close to him, and quietly, but firmly, told me that I needed to make another pizza, just like the one I had before, and it needed to make it quickly. There was a sense of urgency to his directive, so I did.
While I was preparing the second pizza of the day, Daddy was on the phone with Pépé's family. Pépé was walking across our front lawn toward his home, along with his new possession tucked under his arm, and they could see him out their kitchen window. Daddy explained that we were already making another pizza, it was in the oven cooking, and when it was ready, he would send me over to deliver it.
I delivered the second pizza to the neighbor's house a short while later. Pépé's son and grandson, Jack and John, were in the carport, still ribbing Pépé about the family meal being 'ruined'. Betty, Pépé's daughter, came out, chastising them, and then thanked me for the effort. When it was all said and done, we were all laughing, and agreed that I should probably deliver pizza to them when they ordered.
See, it's like I said... you can't help but smile when you think of pizza.
OK, so the crew at the local pizza shop knows that I don't..... alright... the kids at the grocery store where I pick up the sodas know it too. But that's it, other than you. It's a guilty pleasure that makes me smile, every Thursday. It's a break from the dinner dishes, the prepping, planning, and cooking of a meal. My family is fed, my teens happy for the ritualistic treat, and I can enjoy an evening of relaxation.
Pizza.... go ahead, say the word out loud ~ no one's around. You smiled when you said it, didn't you? Now, another exercise (bear with me friend, I promise you, it is necessary). Think of various times that you've eaten pizza. Remember them? Good.
From an educated guess, most, if not all of your memories are positive, maybe even really happy. They are ones, like my Thursdays. I would even venture that there were parties surrounded by a few of those slices, or a grateful boss that sprang for a snack to show his appreciation for a finished project.
Oh, the left over pizza you had after a long evening of frivolity? Weren't you glad that you had THAT as a 'go to'? College dinner/breakfast? See what I mean, you can't think of, eat, or say 'pizza' and be miserable. You just can't help but crack a bit of a smile.
My favorite memory of pizza is from a long time ago, when I worked in the family deli, where we made the treat that makes smiles. Daddy had just opened his business that week. It was a summer day, and I was ready to make subs, dish up home-made salads and beans, and of course, make pizza.
New business owners tend to do this huge mental build up in their mind's eye of how their first days will be. Bustling and exceedingly busy is the hopes that they all place their lofty thoughts. The reality of still moments that lead to quiet hours finally set in.
The small town we lived in was supportive. More so, our neighbors and family friends. This one particular Saturday was quiet. A few people trickled in, ordered a bit of cold cuts, a pound of this, a hoagie or two. The large, antiquated, brick-lined oven had been sitting patiently, waiting to be thrust into service.
'Pépé Lorde' strolled into the front door that day. He was our next door neighbor, and our family had 'adopted' him and his wife as surrogate grandparents. Pépé was old and wore a hearing aide. He and his wife lived with their daughter, son-in-law, and their teenage children. Seeing Pépé walk through the door made me smile. He ordered a large pizza. Daddy said I could make it, and with his supervision, did so. While the pizza was baking in the oven, the two men talked and walked around the small floor of the deli. Daddy pointed out what he had done, and what he was planning to do, once business picked up.
I got to 'ring up' the sale, and had to figure tax, as the deli's first cash register was an antique. Pépé glowed with pride as he watched me, and praised me for my prowess. "Geez Larry, not only can she cook, she can do math! She'll make someone a fine wife!"
A bit embarrassed, but proud of my accomplishment, I thanked Pépé for shopping with us. Daddy shook his hand and thanked him for the business and asked that they let us know how their meal was. As we retreated behind the deli counter, Pépé opened the front door of the deli and stepped out onto the large form-made concrete stairs. As he closed the door behind him, he appeared to look around with pride at his new gastronomical acquisition. Then, as though he had done so a million times before, turned the pizza box on it's side and wedged it under his left arm, as if he were carrying the Sunday paper.
Daddy and I groaned. I started out after Pépé, but my father grabbed me by my arm and stopped me. He pulled me close to him, and quietly, but firmly, told me that I needed to make another pizza, just like the one I had before, and it needed to make it quickly. There was a sense of urgency to his directive, so I did.
While I was preparing the second pizza of the day, Daddy was on the phone with Pépé's family. Pépé was walking across our front lawn toward his home, along with his new possession tucked under his arm, and they could see him out their kitchen window. Daddy explained that we were already making another pizza, it was in the oven cooking, and when it was ready, he would send me over to deliver it.
I delivered the second pizza to the neighbor's house a short while later. Pépé's son and grandson, Jack and John, were in the carport, still ribbing Pépé about the family meal being 'ruined'. Betty, Pépé's daughter, came out, chastising them, and then thanked me for the effort. When it was all said and done, we were all laughing, and agreed that I should probably deliver pizza to them when they ordered.
See, it's like I said... you can't help but smile when you think of pizza.
"To Do" List
This world moves very quickly, and during the course of a 24 hour period of time, we have implanted in our minds, things that we'd like to accomplish. Lists of "Things To Do" is what runs through my mind, and usually is scribed somewhere on a 3x5 card. I am such a lucky woman to have a few of these 'lists' around.
One is my 'General List for Work', which includes the simple tasks that I don't always do on a daily basis, but need to be accomplished. If they're real 'technical' (legal documents) they get a special list of 'Paperwork for Work' list all to their very own. These lists are usually accomplished in a relatively short amount of time, and when the tasks at hand are completed, the list is simply thrown away.
My home has a few lists of it's own. One's a general "Housecleaning To Do" list, another boasts the title of "Projects @ the House", while still another holds the coveted "Important Dates/Times" list. Why, you might ask, are lists such a prominent part of my life? It reminds me of all of the things that I not only expect my self to execute, but what others are relying on me to complete as well. I have to admit, that sometimes, just sometimes, there are a few items on the list that don't get completed, but I still cross them out, as though the task at hand was done. It's not cheating, after all, most of this is just to organize my thoughts, my wishes of how I'd like my world, my day, to run. Not like the 'List Nazis' are gonna check up on me and my follow-through, right?
These items, the one's that I put on my 'list', which ever one it may be, are usually a chore, task, errand, etc. that needs to be completed, but isn't something that I REALLY want to do. So, my dearest friends, I have decided that I want to create a list (NOT my 'bucket list' ~ that has different parameters) that has some positive connotation to me... be it just fanciful, or even a tad practical.
1) Dance the night away
2) Learn the secret to happiness
3) Discover why men have to be the driver when the other passenger is a female
4) Read for a minimum of 4 hours each day of whatever you want.... (I know, for me, unrealistic)
5) Tweet at least 5 compliments to 5 different people each day (watch your following grow!)
6) Give a hug to at least 4 people a day.
7) Imagine "What if.." on a scale so huge, IF it were to happen, your life would be forever changed.
8) Spend time alone, no electronics around, and reflect on those people who mean so much to you.
9) Sing, loudly, to your favorite music while driving around 'back roads'
10) Find out who teaches kids to jump on chairs, couches, or beds
11) Meditate on positive people, places, and events in your life...
12) Spend a day with someone under the age of 21, they are FASCINATING!
13) Write a letter by hand to a dear friend or family member, put it in an envelope, mail it!
14) Send a "Thinking of You" note to someone you just thought of (See #8)
15) Order something, anything, online, to be delivered whenever ~ as a gift to you.
16) Take a 2 month trip down the Rhine, visiting EVERY castle along the way
17) Take a horseback ride under the full moon (again!)
18) Spend a night watching a meteor shower
19) Go on a photographic expedition of an area that's always fascinated you
20) Find out who teaches kids to jump in mud puddles (see #10 ~ they might be able to help)
I know I've got more... but I'll end it here for now ~ as soon as I accomplish a few of these, I'll be adding another. In the mean time, get going, you've got a list to make and things to do!
One is my 'General List for Work', which includes the simple tasks that I don't always do on a daily basis, but need to be accomplished. If they're real 'technical' (legal documents) they get a special list of 'Paperwork for Work' list all to their very own. These lists are usually accomplished in a relatively short amount of time, and when the tasks at hand are completed, the list is simply thrown away.
My home has a few lists of it's own. One's a general "Housecleaning To Do" list, another boasts the title of "Projects @ the House", while still another holds the coveted "Important Dates/Times" list. Why, you might ask, are lists such a prominent part of my life? It reminds me of all of the things that I not only expect my self to execute, but what others are relying on me to complete as well. I have to admit, that sometimes, just sometimes, there are a few items on the list that don't get completed, but I still cross them out, as though the task at hand was done. It's not cheating, after all, most of this is just to organize my thoughts, my wishes of how I'd like my world, my day, to run. Not like the 'List Nazis' are gonna check up on me and my follow-through, right?
These items, the one's that I put on my 'list', which ever one it may be, are usually a chore, task, errand, etc. that needs to be completed, but isn't something that I REALLY want to do. So, my dearest friends, I have decided that I want to create a list (NOT my 'bucket list' ~ that has different parameters) that has some positive connotation to me... be it just fanciful, or even a tad practical.
1) Dance the night away
2) Learn the secret to happiness
3) Discover why men have to be the driver when the other passenger is a female
4) Read for a minimum of 4 hours each day of whatever you want.... (I know, for me, unrealistic)
5) Tweet at least 5 compliments to 5 different people each day (watch your following grow!)
6) Give a hug to at least 4 people a day.
7) Imagine "What if.." on a scale so huge, IF it were to happen, your life would be forever changed.
8) Spend time alone, no electronics around, and reflect on those people who mean so much to you.
9) Sing, loudly, to your favorite music while driving around 'back roads'
10) Find out who teaches kids to jump on chairs, couches, or beds
11) Meditate on positive people, places, and events in your life...
12) Spend a day with someone under the age of 21, they are FASCINATING!
13) Write a letter by hand to a dear friend or family member, put it in an envelope, mail it!
14) Send a "Thinking of You" note to someone you just thought of (See #8)
15) Order something, anything, online, to be delivered whenever ~ as a gift to you.
16) Take a 2 month trip down the Rhine, visiting EVERY castle along the way
17) Take a horseback ride under the full moon (again!)
18) Spend a night watching a meteor shower
19) Go on a photographic expedition of an area that's always fascinated you
20) Find out who teaches kids to jump in mud puddles (see #10 ~ they might be able to help)
I know I've got more... but I'll end it here for now ~ as soon as I accomplish a few of these, I'll be adding another. In the mean time, get going, you've got a list to make and things to do!
A Family Portrait ~ Just in Time for Christmas!
We currently live in a lovely little sub-division, neatly dotted with look-alike homes. I would venture to guess that well over half of the properties have children (ages ranging from 0-21) residing with their parents. Many of 'the first families' in the neighborhood still exchange Christmas cards, goodie baskets, and of course, the holiday family portrait, the same one that Aunt Eunice in Topeka gets in her Christmas card.
I had been honored to have been asked to take THAT family picture for a young couple this last holiday bout. The family was dressed in matching flip flops, shorts and adorable shirts. They looked like something out of a catalog. We discussed where the picture would be taken, who would sit where, and what palms should be in the backdrop. The pool had to be in the photo too... I mean, you can't JUST have the kids in shorts for a December picture without the constant reminders that 'we live in a warm climate' screaming at your relatives, who are most likely buried in 8 feet of freshly fallen snow.
It was perfect, they were perfect. They sat together, the young couple grinning, the children excited. Then it happened. A flip flop fell off, much to Mommy's chagrin. Daddy explained that 'you are a grown up 4 years old, you need to act accordingly and not flop around like a fish.' Apparently, the two year old decided that since he was NOT 4, he SHOULD flop like a fish, and in doing so, inadvertently hit his mother squarely on the bridge of her nose. Her nose began to swell, and the tears she was producing were ruining her perfect make up job that she had administered to herself earlier that morning. After we applied ice to her nose, the dog ran into the planted palm, dumping its contents onto the newly scrubbed brick pavers. The children became whiny, as what began as an exciting moment became a comedy of errors. It was close to nap time too ~ and I could feel the frustration taking a toll on us all, as I wanted to claim 'nap time' along side the children.
Before the day was through, we did manage to get a couple of pictures taken, one of them actually made it as 'the' picture for the holiday greeting card. The young mother thanked me for my time, and was exasperated over the whole ordeal.
The young mother lamented about the photo shoot, claiming that nothing comparable had EVER happened like this before. She was clearly embarrassed and frustrated. I explained to her the cliché lines that I was once told, that this was something she'd look back on and laugh about. I then shared my family's own little holiday picture shoot extravaganza with her.
All four kids, ages 6 months, 2, 6, and 8 years of age were dressed up, well coiffed, and ready for it. The diaper bag was packed for the trip to the Department Store Photo Studio; otherwise known as ~ "we still have floor space, what do we do with it to make money" area.
We had made an appointment, but due to the New England weather, either the photographers, previous appointments, or all of the above were running late. I liken waiting with small children in a confined public area as an opportunity to expose any and all dysfunction a family has or COULD have. As you can guess, our 3 1/2 hour wait consisted of the typical stressors that a young family would encounter: the 4 diaper changes, the toddler that was ready for her nap 1/2 hr before the sitting, and two kids that wanted nothing more than to go back to the toy area to dream of what Santa would bring them, began to fray our nerves.
My husband and I began getting short with the children, then correcting one another. We were, after all, in public. I had been smart enough to bring my 2 year olds favorite stuffed bear, aptly named "Bear", to sooth her while we waited. By the time we were ready to select the backdrop, figure out where we were sitting, and get the children in place, there was nary a smile in the place. Tears ran down faces, whining ensued, and complaints of 'This is stupid!' and 'Why do we need to do this?' made me reflect on whether or not it was truly a good idea.
The children were constrained into poses, yes, constrained, as between each shutter click, my husband and I mumbled words that a sea-fairing soul would identify easily. The two year old, to the point of being un-consolable, was offered "Bear" and would not part with him. Growling under a pasted on grin, we told the kids that there was just a moment or two more, and all of this nightmare would be over..
The photo was lovely, my grandmother even said so. My parents and in-laws cooed over the portrait, which, to this day, sits prominently in the living rooms of their homes. When a friend comes to visit, they point out how much the children have grown, and how they have/haven't changed. Every time I look at it, I smile, and am grateful that I don't have to re-do that day again.
We have taken only one other official family portrait, many years later. The kids were much more at ease, there was no need to wrestle with diapers or snacks. There were moments, ones that were spent grumbling about one little thing or another. The photos, after all, are a snapshot of what we are, what others see, when we're in public.
I had been honored to have been asked to take THAT family picture for a young couple this last holiday bout. The family was dressed in matching flip flops, shorts and adorable shirts. They looked like something out of a catalog. We discussed where the picture would be taken, who would sit where, and what palms should be in the backdrop. The pool had to be in the photo too... I mean, you can't JUST have the kids in shorts for a December picture without the constant reminders that 'we live in a warm climate' screaming at your relatives, who are most likely buried in 8 feet of freshly fallen snow.
It was perfect, they were perfect. They sat together, the young couple grinning, the children excited. Then it happened. A flip flop fell off, much to Mommy's chagrin. Daddy explained that 'you are a grown up 4 years old, you need to act accordingly and not flop around like a fish.' Apparently, the two year old decided that since he was NOT 4, he SHOULD flop like a fish, and in doing so, inadvertently hit his mother squarely on the bridge of her nose. Her nose began to swell, and the tears she was producing were ruining her perfect make up job that she had administered to herself earlier that morning. After we applied ice to her nose, the dog ran into the planted palm, dumping its contents onto the newly scrubbed brick pavers. The children became whiny, as what began as an exciting moment became a comedy of errors. It was close to nap time too ~ and I could feel the frustration taking a toll on us all, as I wanted to claim 'nap time' along side the children.
Before the day was through, we did manage to get a couple of pictures taken, one of them actually made it as 'the' picture for the holiday greeting card. The young mother thanked me for my time, and was exasperated over the whole ordeal.
The young mother lamented about the photo shoot, claiming that nothing comparable had EVER happened like this before. She was clearly embarrassed and frustrated. I explained to her the cliché lines that I was once told, that this was something she'd look back on and laugh about. I then shared my family's own little holiday picture shoot extravaganza with her.
All four kids, ages 6 months, 2, 6, and 8 years of age were dressed up, well coiffed, and ready for it. The diaper bag was packed for the trip to the Department Store Photo Studio; otherwise known as ~ "we still have floor space, what do we do with it to make money" area.
We had made an appointment, but due to the New England weather, either the photographers, previous appointments, or all of the above were running late. I liken waiting with small children in a confined public area as an opportunity to expose any and all dysfunction a family has or COULD have. As you can guess, our 3 1/2 hour wait consisted of the typical stressors that a young family would encounter: the 4 diaper changes, the toddler that was ready for her nap 1/2 hr before the sitting, and two kids that wanted nothing more than to go back to the toy area to dream of what Santa would bring them, began to fray our nerves.
My husband and I began getting short with the children, then correcting one another. We were, after all, in public. I had been smart enough to bring my 2 year olds favorite stuffed bear, aptly named "Bear", to sooth her while we waited. By the time we were ready to select the backdrop, figure out where we were sitting, and get the children in place, there was nary a smile in the place. Tears ran down faces, whining ensued, and complaints of 'This is stupid!' and 'Why do we need to do this?' made me reflect on whether or not it was truly a good idea.
The children were constrained into poses, yes, constrained, as between each shutter click, my husband and I mumbled words that a sea-fairing soul would identify easily. The two year old, to the point of being un-consolable, was offered "Bear" and would not part with him. Growling under a pasted on grin, we told the kids that there was just a moment or two more, and all of this nightmare would be over..
The photo was lovely, my grandmother even said so. My parents and in-laws cooed over the portrait, which, to this day, sits prominently in the living rooms of their homes. When a friend comes to visit, they point out how much the children have grown, and how they have/haven't changed. Every time I look at it, I smile, and am grateful that I don't have to re-do that day again.
We have taken only one other official family portrait, many years later. The kids were much more at ease, there was no need to wrestle with diapers or snacks. There were moments, ones that were spent grumbling about one little thing or another. The photos, after all, are a snapshot of what we are, what others see, when we're in public.
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