Proof that mom really DOES exist.

Birthday-palooza went well….Most of the kids came to the party.  I think we ended up somewhere in neighborhood of 25 kids and their parents.  Totally exhausting but an absolute shit ton of fun.

While going through the hundreds of pictures that were taken of the day, I started to notice that this momma is not in a single  ONE  of them.   Not…..a….SINGLE….ONE!

 

It is said that pictures tell a person’s life story.  If this is true, based on the few pictures that I’ve managed to sneak my way in to,  my kids will notice that mommy has chunky sausage fingers and that I’m sometimes a hovering appendage in a shot or two.   I took this picture of Nicklas recently and after taking it, I noticed that I’d accidentally let my chunky sausage finger slip into the frame.   This time, I decided to NOT delete it.  Shots like these might be the only way that there was photographic proof that I even existed.  More often than not, I’m the one shooting the pictures and therefore, I am very seldom IN the damn pictures.  From time to time, so wonderful stranger will offer to take my camera and take a group shot of me and the kids……those kind of people are  AWESOME  and should be shown immense mommy gratitude.  Because, let’s face it…..most of us moms are the photo  TAKERS  in the family, so by default,  WE DON’T GET PHOTOGRAPHED  very often.  And that blows.

Sometimes it makes me a little sad that I’m not really IN the pictures…..yeah, sure…  I was THERE  (obviously) at whatever particular thing was being enjoyed……but there is technically no evidence of the fun I had or to show the joy that came from enjoying that time with my penis people.  Think about it….when you look at old family pictures….you focus on the people IN the picture…..there is very little thought or recognition for the one who was  TAKING  that precious picture.  Even when the names of the people are listed on the back of the picture….there is very rarely a  TAKEN BY  slot.  I guess it’s just naturally assumed that somehow a camera materialized out of nowhere and at that exact moment a stranger walked by and started snapping away.

I’ve mentioned this to the Dick a few times.  I’ve tried to explain my worry that one day fifty years from now our kids and grandkids will be looking at old family photos and think  “wow, Dad was always there…I wonder where the hell that bitch MOM was.”   Every now and then I will toss the camera TO the Dick (I am sometimes aiming quite directly at his head…but not always) and full-out  DEMAND  he take a picture of me and the young penis people.  Sometimes he does take a picture or two….grudgingly.  And those pictures inevitably look so fake and posed….they are usually blurry and out of focus…..and sometimes I still manage to only be a floating head 1/2 in the shot.  What I really want are those wonderful miscellaneous candid shots that can only be attained when someone else who gives a shit about what is being photographed takes the picture while you’re not paying attention and just enjoying the joy.  But unless I plan to hire a professional photographer to follow me and the penis people around, paparazzi style, snapping away….I doubt I will ever get these kinds of shots.

And so I’ve made the decision to thrust my finger (or some other appendage) in the frame more often.   This way there will  FOREVER  be a record that momma was there.  And fifty years from now my kids and their kids will be able to look at all those pictures and the moment they see that single appendage they will  KNOW  that I cared enough to not only  BE  there, but to take the picture and capture that moment forever.  And maybe they can sit around and compare whose fingers look the most like my own.

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