jeudi 19 janvier 2017
Does Not Documenting Every Moment of My Kids' Lives Make Me a Bad Mom?
Not to brag, but I think I'm a pretty good mom in most departments. I am a laundry, scheduling, neat-making machine; I am on top of homework, this weekend's birthday party gifts, and the latest kids' iPad apps; I cook a mean frozen pizza with a side of baby carrots (kidding . . . kind of). But one area I admit to being super deficient in? That would be documenting my kids' fast-moving childhoods before they disappear in a flash of Justice leggings and slammed bedroom doors.
My plan to be the kind of baby and kid photographer that makes Facebook friends jealous and inspires one to create legions of well-curated albums, while destined for failure, started on the right foot. Shortly after my now-5-year-old daughter was born, my husband and I invested in one of those fancy cameras that makes everything and everyone look better and began lugging it with us to every potential photo opportunity.
The first year of my daughter's life, I have beautiful shots of her enjoying sunny days at the park, of our family frolicking on the beach, of her first time experiencing snow. The pictures make those moments seen even more magical than they actually were (the adorable fur-trimmed snowsuit I forced her into was not a hit).
At about the one-year mark, mom life got real and my former photo-averse self was reborn.
Then, at about the one-year mark, mom life got real and my former photo-averse self was reborn. A bit of background: I come from a family where entire years went basically unphotographed, and in keeping that tradition, I was never the one to force a group picture during a girls' night out or a couple shot with my husband.
Then my daughter started walking, and shortly after, running. Show me the woman who can manage a crazy toddler and a $500 camera without breaking one or the other, and I'll reward her with, well, my camera, because it's been sitting in a drawer ever since. I managed to make exactly one photo album of my daughter's first two years before my son joined our family three years ago.
With a baby and a toddler, I was lucky to get a couple of good iPhone shots to send the grandparents a few times a month. Forget about photo opportunities; survival was all I could focus on, and there were moments when it did not seem like a given. At some point, I decided Instagram was the only place I would be documenting my little ones' lives. Albums were just not going to happen. Even if I had the time to put them together, I didn't have the pictures to fill them with.
I also began compensating for the lack of boxes and boxes of baby pictures in my house by forcing my little family to do twice-yearly professional photo shoots (one of my best friends is a talented photographer, which made it easier and way more affordable). Those pictures now count as some of my prized possessions, but the process of getting them is always stressful, and even the best family portrait can't compete with those sweet captured moments I see on other moms' Facebook feeds.
I've come to terms with my photo deficiency. We can't all be great at everything, and certainly not at every aspect of mothering, and this is a shortcoming I can live with. And if someday my kids' ask me where their baby albums are, I'll direct them to my Instagram account. That will have to be good enough.
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