Anyone want to know how a typical photo session goes at my house? I'll share today as a somewhat typical example...
First, I'm in a good mood, the baby's in a good mood, no snot all over her face, the light coming in through the window is good, and she just turned six months old, so it is appropriate to snap some photos.
I decide I'll try to take some pictures.
I look for the camera.
I find the camera.
I turn on the camera.
Memory card is full. Aargh. That means the kids found it first and have been playing with it again, taking pictures until the camera doesn't let them take any more.
I don't want to wipe the card because some of the pictures are ones that I took.
Maybe I'll just download the pictures onto the computer.
Can't find the card reader.
While I was looking for the card reader, toddler tortured baby, so now she's crying and I'm not in a good mood anymore.
While comforting baby, I go back and manually delete several pictures from the camera, mostly pictures of my carpet.
Baby is stable, so I put her down and start taking some pictures. She starts crying.
I cheer her up, get her laughing, but toddler heard me and wants to be part of the action. He starts climbing on me, making it impossible to take a clear picture because I'm being jostled every second.
I get him off of me, and then he starts walking all around the baby, casting shadows and getting random body parts in the pictures.
Just as I succeed in distracting him, the camera shuts off, saying that I need to replace the battery.
That would be fine except that my husband left the extra battery in his pants pocket a few months ago, and it went through the wash. (Sound familiar?)
Photo session over. Shoot!
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Clickable Magic
Last night I was walking up the stairs and heard my son reading a book to his brother. The lights were supposed to have been off ten minutes before, but maybe I was in a good mood or something, because at that moment, it was just amazing to hear them reading together, sharing something they both like in total brotherly love.
At times like that, I find myself doing what I call a "Cam Jansen click." Cam Jansen is a fictitious kid with a photographic memory, and when she wants to remember a particular scene, she closes her eyes and says "click." This helps imprint the scene so she can recall the details of it later. She calls it her mental camera.
I don't really claim to have a photographic memory. But there are many moments in my life that make my heart flutter, when I just wish there was a way to capture the emotion of that moment. Sometimes a real camera helps with that, and sometimes a journal or blog helps, but usually I find that I have to simply live the moment, flutters and all, then I mentally "click" and hope that I can remember it.
Here are a few that came rushing back to me tonight:
* This might sound insane, but some of my favorite 'click' moments are from the quiet hours of the night, when I am taking care of one child or another after they've had a bad dream, or when they can't quite fall asleep and we're reading stories or singing songs.
* I love singing hymns as lullabies, while I look into the eyes of my baby and we're just staring at each other, feeling, listening, and it seems as though the words of the song carry my testimony into their little heart. And their eyes tell me that they know too.
* My oldest isn't super talkative, except at night. When it's late at night, and he's supposed to be going to bed, this kid will sit and talk about everything. Sometimes I tell him that's how I know he's tired, but I love when I occasionally 'break the rules' and take the time to listen instead of ushering him off to bed.
* I am realizing that all of my kids will eventually grow out of being small enough for me to just hold them. So sometimes I just hold them and hold them, hoping that if I do it enough we'll both remember it when they hit their annoying stages.
I guess that the ironic thing about these examples is that the very things I love the most can also infuriate me -- when kids are supposed to be sleeping and they want more stories or songs, when they're supposed to be sleeping and want to talk, or when they're supposed to be in their own bed and are instead flopping all over me in mine.
When I do it wrong, the moment is caustic, and when I do it right, it's pure clickable magic.
At times like that, I find myself doing what I call a "Cam Jansen click." Cam Jansen is a fictitious kid with a photographic memory, and when she wants to remember a particular scene, she closes her eyes and says "click." This helps imprint the scene so she can recall the details of it later. She calls it her mental camera.
I don't really claim to have a photographic memory. But there are many moments in my life that make my heart flutter, when I just wish there was a way to capture the emotion of that moment. Sometimes a real camera helps with that, and sometimes a journal or blog helps, but usually I find that I have to simply live the moment, flutters and all, then I mentally "click" and hope that I can remember it.
Here are a few that came rushing back to me tonight:
* This might sound insane, but some of my favorite 'click' moments are from the quiet hours of the night, when I am taking care of one child or another after they've had a bad dream, or when they can't quite fall asleep and we're reading stories or singing songs.
* I love singing hymns as lullabies, while I look into the eyes of my baby and we're just staring at each other, feeling, listening, and it seems as though the words of the song carry my testimony into their little heart. And their eyes tell me that they know too.
* My oldest isn't super talkative, except at night. When it's late at night, and he's supposed to be going to bed, this kid will sit and talk about everything. Sometimes I tell him that's how I know he's tired, but I love when I occasionally 'break the rules' and take the time to listen instead of ushering him off to bed.
* I am realizing that all of my kids will eventually grow out of being small enough for me to just hold them. So sometimes I just hold them and hold them, hoping that if I do it enough we'll both remember it when they hit their annoying stages.
I guess that the ironic thing about these examples is that the very things I love the most can also infuriate me -- when kids are supposed to be sleeping and they want more stories or songs, when they're supposed to be sleeping and want to talk, or when they're supposed to be in their own bed and are instead flopping all over me in mine.
When I do it wrong, the moment is caustic, and when I do it right, it's pure clickable magic.
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