The perfect Mother's Day photo...

...doesn't exist. At least not in this household....on this Mother's day. Or so I thought. I was determined to document Mother's day and the little one's new haircut with a decent picture. Now, my husband is a genius (figuratively and probably literally) but a photographer he ain't. He does try though which means a lot to me. So, I can't say I was too surprised to find that most of the 50 or so pictures he took yesterday left a little to be desired.

Upon first glance this picture was surely a dud, destined to end up in my virtual trash bin. But I slowly realized it does what a good picture is supposed to do, it represents a moment in time. It tells a story. I love that about pictures. Portraits especially. Any mom, any parent can identify. Every time I look at this picture I will be transported to that moment in time.

I'll remember how willing Chris was to schlep the dog and the little one down to our community sideyard. Big deal right? But to me it is because I know how tired he was from a business trip to Chicago and how all he really wanted to do was nothing. I'll remember our dog nervously chewing grass. He has issues. I'll remember our sweet neighbor who saw us taking pictures as she took out her trash offering a friendly "Happy Mother's Day" greeting. Then, I'll wonder what ever happened to her, and all of our other neighbors. Then, I'll thank God we no longer live in California, and I'll really mean it.

I'll remember her first haircut that took place that morning and how Chris had to hold her arms with one hand and her head with the other. And then how while he was in the shower I noticed some hairs that I missed. I proceeded to hold her down by sitting on her hands and held her head with my elbows as I snipped and she laughed. All the while thinking about how weird the whole scene would look to him if he walked in on us.

I'll remember our little flower was 17 months old and a handful. If she wasn't in the mood to have her picture taken she'd let me know, and not in a subtle way. I'll chuckle when I think of how before I had a child, bratty kids made me cringe. I swore I would "never do that". And I do. I do it all! The composition (half of me is cut off for goodness sake) will remind me that it's no longer about me or my husband. It's all about her. But no picture will ever have to remind me of that...