Picture Perfect

So here's the truth...there are a lot of moments that we share in our little family that just feel like perfection. They sneak up on us, like the Sunday evenings when I'm making my favorite cookies in the kitchen while the kids are shrieking and giggling with Daddy.

Or like those few-and-far-between minutes where only one child is in my arms and holding my attention (the others asleep or out of the house), and I can soak in those uninterrupted cuddles for all they're worth.

Or like the times the baby is crying, the girl is arguing, the boy is throwing a tantrum because he both wants to be held and does not want to be held at the exact same time, and Patrick and I look at each other and smile--because even through all this, we are glad we are here, with each other.

So believe me, these moments happen. But then the journalist inside me says, "Ooh, lemme get a picture!!"

So, it begins with a cute moment, then continues with a mad dash for the camera while they're still being cute, and I've gotta be quick, hurryhurryfast wait... no JAMES! Hey James, keep playing with that! JAMES! Here, see, play with, no... NO, NO sitting on the baby, hey, Cambrie, wait, can you come here again? Just let me get one, no... James, no the camera is not to play with, ergh, NO give that back, hurry, just play like you were before, no, Cambrie, you can't look at the camera right now, I'm trying to get a pict...JAMES! NO SITTING ON THE BABY!

With every single one of my kids, the baby included, the camera is a signal to cease all cuteness and begin doing, well, anything else, and quickly. I guess if I thought about it I wouldn't mind. After all, I'm not raising little models here. (Unless, of course, that is a career choice they make of their own volition after much planning and preparation and blahblahblah politically correct blahness.) Sometimes, though, I just want to remember the perfection that, every now and then, shows through. The beauty and the sweetness that is there but is seemingly impossible to capture.

But then I look back at these photos and, you know, though I love the frames that do capture that perfect moment, all these others--the ones that are "imperfect"--seem to capture the essence of my children's childhood better than anything I could have planned. Their mannerisms. Their relationship with one another. Their stubborn refusal to entertain demands (like "stand here and say cheese!") that really, honestly, are't all that important.

Though most of these photos won't end up in a photo book, I'm glad they're there. They carry their own sense of crazy, scattered honesty. And when comparing our lives to the photos we see, wouldn't we all prefer the standard that is less "picture perfect" and more authentic, more real.

This picture is totally (and crudely) photo-shopped together. Look at the bottom of the door and at the rug. We can pretend it really happened, though!

We can embrace the crazy and imperfect. Then, at the end of the day, we can sit down and sift through that crazy to find the moments of the perfection that truly are there--all the more shining and precious for their rarity. I'm glad life isn't always the same. I'm glad it keeps us guessing. And I'm grateful for a life filled with memories of people I love--imperfect and perfect alike.