Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
So, I gave him a donut when we got back from the grocery store, to tide him over while I fixed lunch. He had a full-on meltdown when I wouldn't let him have a second one. Sent him to his room. Crying commenced. I place his lunch on the table (tomato soup and a grilled cheese). He smells it, comes out and tells me: you need a kiss. Then he proclaims, "I'm sorry I'm a bad girl." Ahahaha! #lovemylittleman
Posted by Mrs. G @ 10:24 AM
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
There are lots of opinions on over-sharing these days, and even a move towards stigmatizing the culture of narcissism it seems to have created with people everywhere.
But as for me, I love a good selfie. And as a mom, I feel its my right to snap one or two (or twelve) occasionally.
And here's why...
"Where's you?" Wyatt asks.
"What do you mean, buddy?"
"Where is YOU?" he asks again.
I scan through the images we've been flipping through on the computer. Easter. There's some of him looking for eggs. A few of Colt helping. Various snapshots of various family members he sees once or twice a year.
And then I see it-- "There I am, buddy!"
He squints at the image. He's not convinced.
It's me alright, I'm in the background of an image, talking to someone with my hands in the air.
We were super busy that day, as we always are on big days like Easter, Thanksgiving, and even birthdays. We rarely stop and remember to take a family photo of the three of us.
So yeah, I'm not in a lot of photos on days like that. I'm the one behind the camera.
And before you can say, "Oh no! Not ANOTHER woman with self-image issues, perpetually hiding behind the camera to avoid..." You're wrong. I'm not that person. I HAPPILY pose for photos, as long as I have proper warning.
My chin needs to be tipped down a bit, my eyebrows raised, an actual smile on my face, and yes, maybe I require being viewed from a 45 degree angle. The point is I happily pose for photos.
But in these folders and folders of family memories, I'm missing. It's no one's fault-- I am constantly snapping photos, trying to grab hold of the present so tightly it cannot possibly escape. I wish to keep these years close to my heart forever. He's only little once. We're only this little family of 3 for so long, before he's too big to want to be with us 24 hours/day.
I pull up my Instagram account on my laptop and scroll through the various selfies I've taken in the last year of Wyatt and I-- ironically most of them in the car, as we get ready to exit the car. I snap quick photos like this a lot. He's happy to be out and about, and he's still for once-- strapped in his car seat. I have lots of these tiny square selfies. Lots.
"I'm right here, Wyatt!" I tell him.
He smiles and laughs, pointing at the screen. "And that's me! That's Mommy and that's Wyatt."
So yeah, I snap lots of selfies-- admittedly some without my little man in them-- but even the independent selfie has its place on my Instagram feed (and eventually in a printed photo album).
You see, the selfies I take with Wyatt are priceless. They show us together, smiling, on an average day. One day, I hope, he can look at them and remember that we spent lots of time together. Not just the BIG HUGE days, but the regular days. The real days. He can watch himself grow before his eyes in photo albums, while seeing his mother age (gracefully) right along side him.
And as for the independent selfies I snap pretty much any time I feel pretty-- as a woman, and a sahm, I need that record of beauty-- because let's be honest, I don't always feel beautiful. 80% of my days are spent in yoga pants (that have never been to yoga), running shoes (that do not run), and in a tank top (that may or may not be clean on any given day). Girl needs a record that she cleans up nice.
So from one self-proclaimed queen of the selfie to another, go ahead and get your duck face on, snap a car photo of yourself and your kids (once your car is safely in park, of course-- never while driving), and for Heaven's sakes, document yourself on your good hair days.
Because one day we might not look so lovely, our kids will be teenagers, and we might just need a bit of reminding that they were little once and we were young.
Posted by Mrs. G @ 4:22 PM