Family Portraits

Yuck.

I mean,truly, it was a horrible experience. Wardrobe malfunctions aside, usually family portraits are at worst OK and at best a lot of fun. Our family portrait, for this year, sucked.

Yep. That is the best diction that I can muster to describe it: it sucked.

We didn't do a family portrait last year because I truly did not have the energy or the need for a new picture in my living room. This year, since the Chub is not an infant, and you can't tell who it is in the picture (well, any reasonable human being with two brain cells to rub together can...but I digress) it was time to get a new one done.

Oh, yay.

The kids' outfits, as I said yesterday, matched perfectly. (I'm so completely jonesing for my Nikon--that still isn't back from the shop yet) If I had the capability, I'd post a pic of their cute little outfits. You'll just have to trust me. I'll eventually be able to post. B.J. and I did not go shopping for a new outfit for pictures. Why? I don't know. Chalk it up to lethargy or cheapness. Either would work. Amazingly, B.J. rummages though his closet and finds a pair of black slacks and a purplish dress shirt that coordinates nicely with the kids' clothes. That left me. Oh, joy.

I have had a continual wardrobe crisis for about the past 8 months or so. I lost enough weight that my clothes got too big. A good thing, right? So, I did the Dr. Phil thing and promptly got rid of all my too-big clothes (Dr. Phil says get rid of them unless you plan to fit into them again...I do NOT plan to fit into them EVER again). And, because money is always tight, and time even tighter I have not really gotten around to replacing my wardrobe. My poor co-workers must be sick-to-death of seeing me in the same 5 outfits; I know I am. Back to pictures: I have a purplish sweater but it didn't work, along with just about every other thing in my closet. I finally settled on (through barely contained tears) dark wash jeans and a (too embarrassing to admit) old black velvet top. I resolved that we'd just have our portrait 'from the waist up'. WRONG!

Whatever the photographer was thinking, I'll never know. Clearly, the whole family, except mom, looks great. Dressed up, color coordinated, picture-perfect. I tell her about my 'waist up' theory. Fat lot of good it did. She poses us, on the floor, mom (me) in front sort of leaning over to the side full body shot, B.J. squatting behind me, Peanut standing behind me on the other side, and a cranky, screaming, whiny chublet in the front of me. This is just the beginning.

Internally I'm groaning to myself, what part of 'from the waist up ONLY' did she not understand? And, to make matters worse, she is trying to get chubber to look happier than someone marching to the guillotine (his current pose) by making silly noises, playing peek-a-boo through an empty box. Normally, this type of activity makes little kids giggle and smile. Or, at least snap out of their funk. It succeeds grandly in making Chublet more and more angry. He actually becomes incensed, complete with more screaming, and, my personal favorite, throwing himself on the floor in the 'rug' pose. Can this woman simply not shut up? Can she not see she's not helping, but making things worse? For all intents and purposes, she cannot.

So, we scream our way through the family shot. When we reviewed the pictures, there was only ONE shot where we were all looking the same direction, and Chub was not openly screaming: the picture with me, full-body in front. With B.J.'s white sweat socks showing. Classy. I think we'll be the modern equivalent to a Norman Rockwell...

Family portrait done, we proceeded to torment ourselves and the kids some more: sibling shots. Let's just say that went over like a lead balloon. For a change, Peanut was compliant, smiled on cue, tilted her head 'just so' and sat still. Who was this child? On the other hand, there was the chublet: cranky, angry, flopping in the floor. The proverbial little kid pitching a fit in the grocery store. You know exactly what I'm talking about.

The kids' photos were so horrible, I didn't buy even one of them. Even the photographer who reviewed the proofs with us covered up Chublet's face and said, "these would be great if we could cut this out." I agreed.

So, the moral of the story? I don't know. All I do know is that my wardrobe malfunction will be immortalized in our 2007 Family/Christmas portrait. I'll forever remember how entirely two years old Chublet was, and that the Peanut was proportionally angelic to Chublet's evilness.

We have rescheduled the kids' portrait for next weekend. Let's hope it is less of a toddler rodeo. Please.