The Day I Dread at School

The B&B was like a scene from the Paris catwalk this morning. Clothes flying everywhere, models and designers fighting over colour schemes and the use of make-up. Hair gel left on the counter, sweaters and socks tried on and discarded. The debris left in the bathroom and bedrooms is mind boggling.

You see, today is that school day that I dread the most as a parent. Class picture day.

Bear in mind that I went to a nice Catholic school that gave us a fabulous uniform in green and gold to wear for every school picture until about 7th or 8th grade, at which point I fretted about what to wear for about two weeks before the dreaded day. I look back at those pictures only moderately horrified by my choice of outfit and super large hair. It was the 80s after all.

I think it's this fear of having my children look back at their pictures with horror that today becomes so stressful. Mini-Husband demanded this morning to wear a tie like his dad, which is great but so not good in terms of street cred with the other 7 year olds. Especially in this village where a tie is something made out of metal and used to hold walls together.

The Princess, on the other hand, somehow managed to find that make-up case Whoops gave her and so used various shades of blue and pink all over her eyes and cheeks before presenting herself to me at the breakfast table. I'm only hoping that the picture is this afternoon so there's time for that exotic colour combination to wear off. I have no hope for her hair.

The parent in me wants them to look fabulous, clean, and put together in these pictures. My beaming children, bright and shining. Little loves who look calm, well behaved and thoughtful.

The Dig I am realizes that the parent in me is smoking crack.

Who really cares what they look like in these pictures? This is how they dress and act these days and capturing that on film is wonderful. Stains on their t-shirts, peanut butter and jelly smeared on Mini-Husband's face, and The Princess dressed in various shades of pink, it's who they are. Plus, we need photos like these to tease the crap outta them when they grow up, right?

My mom is probably saying, "No! You can't tease them. They are so cute!" Which is true. But she also always said that I was cute in my pictures, which I know to be a bold face lie. I love you, mom, but you've been lying through your teeth for years.

I'm just grateful that my mom could see through all those scary outfits and love me still. Just as I love those two monkeys who will be smiling for posterity today, spaghetti stained clothes, spiky hair and all.