“Not it.” We said it simultaneously before Jason took the baby from me to change her. She’d just made the earth-shattering noise every breastfed baby makes when they expel a particularly large and yellow bowl movement. It was nothing new. In fact, it has happened what feels like millions, no billions, of times across four children.
“Eeew, pretty girl! Do you feel better?” Jason cooed and chatted with her, like he had also done a million times.
And that’s when the photographer said, “Ooh, I want to get this.”
That poopy butt is why a documentary style photo shoot is one of the best things you can do for your family. For real. Embrace the poop. Wear your PJ shirt if your real clothes don’t fit yet but your maternity clothes are now too big. Don’t clean your house. Take an hour or two to fall in love with your reality. Because it won’t be like this for long.
As mothers we share a common fear of the clock; that knowledge that the days are long but the years are so very short. We try to be present, but much blurs together. Do I clearly remember any of the diaper changes over the last 7 years? Maybe… maybe I remember a few of the epic ones, the one where my oldest peed right in his own mouth when I didn’t have the tee-pee ready; the one where my middle pooped so magnificently that it was all the way up to his hair; the one that was such an unusual and alien green hue that it seemed to cast a glow (which child was that?) but the ordinary ones all kind combine into a fuzz, I don’t know that I remember the specific details of any of them.
Except that one on that day when the photographer reminded me to look.
Carla, our photographer, suddenly zapped me into the moment so fiercely that I’ll remember that diaper change. Years from now when I don’t have butts to wipe and when I miss it, I’ll have that moment to remember, even if it’s not one of the photos that made it into the gallery. Over and over during our two-hour session she reminded me to love the moment; that these ordinary days of the best part of my life are to be treasured as I live them. She reminded me of the beauty in the chaos. She reminded my why I fell in love with my husband. She reminded me to look at my children with new eyes. She shone a light on the long-long day and hit pause on too-short years.
The photos are just a beautiful bonus. It was the snap-snap-snap that reminded me to see the beauty in the ordinary that has stuck with me since our session.
Most of us nowadays have countless photos. We have the beautifully staged family portraits and they are truly wonderful, and we snap our way through the big moments in life. (Or, and here’s a big shout out, if you’re the luckiest person in the world you might have a best friend who happens to be a photographer and happens to catch a lot of those big moments all fancy-like.) But the documentary session is something else entirely.
Every day I am grateful for my children reminding me to see the world through the eyes of a child. Thank you, Carla, for reminding me to look at the poop through the eyes of a photographer.
The Mommy Mines 