For months I’ve been telling family members that I was going to have a picture taken of all four of our children.
I finally schedule it. Wednesday, 4pm.
I arranged the entire day’s schedule so as to make it to the photographer promptly a few minutes before 4, well-rested, snacked, and ready to smile.
We started out the day with breakfast, piano practice, and chores – just like always.
Next we did school, taking care to get it all done quickly though thoroughly; there would be no time for catch-up this afternoon.
I realize, while doing school, that the boys have not had haircuts since I can remember. Shaggy hair is not good for pictures. Recalculate timing of the afternoon and figure out that I can fit the haircuts in, if I just manage my time well.
10am – K, our sitter arrives to watch the kids for a couple hours while I run about like a chicken with my head cut off run as many errands as possible, since this is my only chance all week to get out of the house without the hassle of a child in a car seat and two other children who take all day long to get in and out of the van.
I return home at noon, and as I turn the corner to my street stop congratulating myself for all that I’ve accomplished (and still returned home by noon) and realize that there is a concrete truck parked across my street…and the concrete workers really don’t care that I am paying the sitter while they take up the road.
Finally mange to squeeze by the truck before my head explodes.
Dash into house with bags in hand.
Sitter asks if I can take her home. Really, I don’t mind at all, but I immediately start re-calculating the afternoon fitting in lunch, nap, snack, and travel-to-the-photo-studio time. I can do it, so I do.
Feed ravenous children who decide for the first time ever that they are going to savor every. bite. that. I. have. laid. on. their. plates. while I count the minutes.
Finally, Little Man is done with his lunch (or did I take it from him, I can’t remember…really, I jest). Take him out to garage to do the quick haircut. Sit him on step stool, just like always.
Forgot towel to drape around his shoulders. Dash inside and upstairs to get towel.
Return to garage and shivering half-naked boy. Think, “Have to move fast. Time is ticking. Boy is freezing.” Hurry!
Pick up clippers. Hurry!
Two swipes with the clippers. Hurry!
I think,”Wow! Little Man’s hair must have been really long, because the contrast here is just striking…or maybe I’m doing something wrong…but I can’t be doing something wrong; it’s picture day!” And then it slowly begins to dawn on me that I am making my son bald! The guard was not on the clippers, so I had created a 5 inch wide bald spot on the left front of my child’s head.
Start laughing and crying at the same time. Think, “Well, I guess I could just ask that the photographer only photograph the other side of his head”…only to look at that side of his face and realize that side of his face is covered with a giant bruise, left there after an attempt to fly.
More laughing and crying and calling the studio to reschedule.
This is why my family doesn’t get pictures of my children.
This was taken later that night. You can’t see the bald spot just all that well, but it’s there. I asked Little Man if he would like me to make him “bald” all over or just leave it. He just sort of laughed and told me to leave it as it was, he’d be happy to wear a hat all week!
And this, posted two days later:
You may recall that a couple of days ago I wrote an entirely true story about why I had to postpone our family pictures. Believe it or not there’s more!
After the haircutting incident I called the studio and rescheduled. I made the date two weeks out…two weeks for the hair to grow and the bruise to heal; that should do it, I thought!
Two weeks pass by. No one, I repeat, NO ONE gets damaged-in-a-visual-way or bruised or another bad haircut during that time.
The day before the BIG-PICTURE-DAY Handsome was home in the afternoon. Our whole family was in the family room, just hanging out as families are wont to do. Suddenly there was the sound of child’s flesh hitting the floor and lots of really loud screaming. We were all right there, but none of us (but the three year old, and he’s not talking) knows exactly what happened…but there was blood and more screaming and a bit, fat lip! The.day.before.the.pictures!
Whatever he did that caused his lip to get smashed between the floor and his teeth caused Dimples’ lip to swell to approximately sixty times it’s original size, and being the Mother-of-the-Year material that I am all I could think about (after the ice was applied and the screaming did stop) was, “I guess I’ll reschedule pictures again!”
The good news is: The swelling had gone down almost completely by the next morning, and I decided not to reschedule the pictures.
The bad news is: By that second afternoon a scab had formed over Dimples’ lip, so his lip looks a little, tiny bit deformed in the pictures.
But he was smiling, and that’s all that really matters . . . right???