This morning I was looking for a picture of myself with my children and I didn’t have one.
I have been with these two people pretty much every single day for eight years and I don’t have a picture of the three of us.
Well, that isn’t entirely true. I have this one.
And this one.
As you may have gleaned from the above comment that I have lived with them for eight years (almost, they turn eight next month) you would think that I might have something more recent of the three of us.
I suppose this is more recent than the other two, but I was hoping for something that was taken sometime in the last 1500 days.
I don’t have one.
How does that happen? I have 42,406 pictures in iPhoto and three of them are of me and my two children and I took one of them myself. Some of my very best friends are photographers. I know that I could call one of them and say “Can you please come over and take some pictures of me with my kids?” Why haven’t I? I don’t know. I haven’t showered? I need to get a haircut? I keep thinking that one day I will lose those 5 pounds and it will make all of the difference in the world?
I’m not sure, but I know this: I regret not having done it last week, or last year or two years ago. I am not wearing makeup in any one of the pictures I have posted here. My cleanliness status in any one of those photographs is questionable and yet I treasure all three of them. They are pictures of me and my babies.
In my darkest times I worry that I will get hit by a bus and my kids will think we never spent any time together. In my more reasonable times I think, tomorrow I will have someone take a picture of the three of us.
I think the second line of reasoning is probably the one to focus on. I am going to make a point to have someone take a picture of us. This is something I can control.
I can’t slow down time. I can’t make their friends be kind. I can’t even pick out clothes that my daughter will wear, but I can do this.