Mom and Pop Place Blog

I remember PICTURE DAY from my elementary school days.  My mom would mark the calendar and make sure we got a haircut about a week before-hand.  She picked out the perfect clothes, usually coordinating ensembles for all the sisters.  She would actually blow-dry and style my hair in the morning.  Starting in 5th grade, she would even let me put on some blush and lip-gloss.  This was PICTURE DAY, after all.

So, yesterday was Picture Day at my sons’ school.  Big deal, right?  For me, not so much.  Count this as yet another entry in my Mom-of-the-Year application.  I did make a mental note of the date.  I did consider getting the boys a haircut.  Although, Solon declined (vehemently) the suggestion that we go in for a trim.  He thinks he wants long hair.  I even gently accused him of looking a little Bieberish, but he stands by his desire for long hair.  And Gage couldn’t care less.  He has to tilt his head up to see himself in the  bathroom mirror, which renders that giant spiky cowlick invisible to him.  So, his hair lays perfectly flat, as far as he’s concerned.  (Side note: Please don’t ever point out that cowlick to him.  He’ll notice it in a year or two when he’s tall enough to see in the mirror.  Let me enjoy this year of peaceful morning grooming.)

So, no haircuts for the boys.  No big deal.  I started to think about what would be the PERFECT SHIRT for them to wear…….flattering neutral color, no patterns, no collars.  The problem is, I started thinking about this the night before.  Around 10PM.  It turns out that the PERFECT SHIRT is whatever is clean and doesn’t have any holes above chest-level.  Solon decided that he wanted to wear his favorite purple shirt.  The worn out T-shirt that is 2 sizes too small and has white graphics all over it (as well as not a small amount of cat hair).  And, as usual, Gage couldn’t care less.  He chose a striped green polo shirt with a collar that lays mostly flat.  (When he returned from school that afternoon, he was wearing a striped green polo shirt with a taco meat stain all down the front.  Let’s just hope his pictures were before lunch………)

So, I felt guilty all day.  Don’t I care about PICTURE DAY?  Don’t I want beautiful school day memories?  Aren’t I good enough mom to wash laundry more than once a week?  Don’t I love my kids?  The answers to those questions are, respectively; no, yes, no, and yes.  The truth is that I don’t care a lot about school picture day.  I have tons of pictures of my kids.  And I have wonderful memories of their school days.  Memories I made  by hanging out with them.  By helping them dot their “i”s and get their “g”s facing the right way.  By getting (pretend) excited about the rules of Four Square.  By taking one million pictures of them myself with my iPhone.   By making fun of their cowlicks on the internet.

I also think it helps that photography has come a long way in the past 20 years.  Back then, school pictures were some of the only affordable portraits that families got. There was a ton of pressure to get it right.   There was no instant gratification of images on a digital camera screen.  You didn’t get to share uploaded photos with all your family members and “tag” each other’s kids online.  You couldn’t simply print out high-quality photos in your own home.  You had to actually own a camera.  A camera with film, batteries, and flash cubes.  You had to take 24 pictures with the hopes of getting one “keeper”.  You had to drive across town to the photo store to pick up your developed film, only to find that your kids’ eyes were closed in every picture.  So, the only pictures I had of my friends were the ones we traded at school.  I still have most of those pictures.  I wonder if my friends do too?  If so, I’m glad my mom did my hair on PICTURE DAY.

When my kids’ school pictures come in, I will love them.  I always do.  Because they always look like themselves;  silly smiles, taco stains, long hair, purple T-shirts, and all.  That’s how I will remember them.  To me, school pictures are a wonderful chronicle of goofiness, a rite of passage in the cattle-call of grade school, another step in the tooth-loss-evolution photo series.  And I love them all.