On Christmas Cards and Photo Sessions

I'm a lover of Christmas cards. So if you're expecting some hilarious rant, hating on them and all their pintrest style perfection...you might be disappointed by this post.  

True, they have become quite the elaborate spectacle these days. I'm not opening up my mailbox to your standard, grab the most decent pic from your last vacation, slap it in a costco preset design and call it a day, type cards anymore folks. Not by a long shot. Some of the cards I receive now look like they've been ripped out of a jcrew catalog for crying out loud. Seriously, these things belong in coffee table books and artistic portfolios. They are bea-U-tiful. And I luuuuv it. Honest. Every day I feel like I'm opening presents when I go get the mail, and then I hang them, as like, ACTUAL ART on my walls and it make me super happy. 

Every other month of the year I don't even get my mail. No seriously, my mail has been sent back to the post office more times than I'm willing to admit because the box gets too full between times I go out there, it's kind of a problem. 

But not in December. In December I actually watch the clock and look forward to the late afternoon 5 minutes I get every day to pop out to the mailbox (all by my wonderful self!) and pull out a new stack of envelopes. As I'm typing this I realize how depressing that may make my life sound that this is a highlight, but you'll have to tuck that away as a side point because we're moving on. :)  

I have to tell you a story. 

It begins with a photo session for said Christmas cards by my sweet friend and talented photographer Melissa Babasin. We went through the usual motions, picked the 'coordinated-but-not-like-we-tried too-hard, but-more-like-we-just-happened-to-match-my-scarf-to-her-shoes-to-his-shirt-to-that-splash of-color-on-the-inside-of-his-collar, type coordinated' outfits. Heh. We brought the blankets and trekked through the weeds at the right time of day, we did the kids hair (a once a YEAR type of deal around here) and we worked hard all day prior to align nap and snack and meal times so we'd be set up to have the happiest kids you ever did see when it came to show time. 

And you guys. It was MISERABLE. The whole photo session. Horrid. 

There were tears, and threats and shameless bribes. There were sticks swung and smacked into faces, photographer directed hugs turned into suffocating neck squeezes which toppled kids over and erupted into wrestling matches. There miiight have been an ill advised joke about a boy from school which mom miiight have thought would produce a simple and natural laugh/smile from a certain little girl and instead produced a 15 minute, snot wiping, eye puffing, 'that was SO embarrassing' sob session. (Shoot you guys, can you tell I'm new at this?? Big time momFAIL.) 

It was ridiculous to say the least. But our photographer was a pro and rolled with it all, snapping away. And Ryan and I, well we did that thing you do where you pretend you're good natured and chill enough to laugh all this off so that the pictures don't capture the proof that in reality you're so ticked at your kids you can't even see straight. ;) And we got through it. But I was SURE there would be nothing usable.

And then we got the pictures. And here's where I'm supposed to say how it was a miracle, the pictures were amazing, I loved them to pieces and was so thrilled with my precious family and we ordered our cards and everyone lived happily ever after. The end.

But though the pictures were great and I WAS amazed at the talent of my friend and so excited to have sweet pictures of the seven of us; that's not the story I want to tell you. 

When Melissa sent me the link to my pics I was also able to flip through sessions of other families she'd taken pictures for recently.  

And here's where I show you ugly Katie. 

With the trauma of our ridiculous photo session still fresh in my memory, I spent longer than I should have clicking one at a time through those other family pictures and here's what I thought to myself. 

"See? What in the world is wrong with my family? Look how sweet all those kids are just standing there. Hugging each other, smiling (not scowling, crying, making goofy faces, or squinting awkwardly), resting their precious little heads against their parents, laughing and having a wonderful time. That session was probably so much fun, that family must really love each other, they're so lucky, they're doing something right, I'm DEFINITELY doing something wrong, why didn't I get THOSE kids and THAT family?!?"

It was a low moment I let myself sink into and I sat there pouting. Unhappy with my lot in life, ungrateful for the precious lives that surround me, discouraged and down on myself and my kids.

Yuck. 

Fast forward a few weeks. I had printed out some of the best pictures to fill some of the frames on our wall.  And then you won't believe it. I heard the strangest thing from some friends who were over and saw the pictures. They were commenting on how amazing the family picture of us was, how sweet and calm everyone looked. And I almost choked. One of those obnoxious, sitcom style, drink spewing, BaHA!! type chokes. I quickly did the thing you do where you try to explain, "No seriously! that is NOT what this picture was! Cameras have amazing lightning like shutter speed and this was a split second in between disasters. For reealz!" 

But I could tell they only kind of believed me. 

I've received quite a few comments since then as well, sweet things people say on Facebook or when they're in my house and see the couple I have up. And I've also been getting all of your amazing family pictures in my mailbox every day. 

Maybe it's because of that very low moment I allowed myself to sulk in this time around; maybe it's because this photo session felt particularily wild. But the voices in my head when I hear those comments, or see other family cards have been very eye opening to me. Because I don't see what others see. When I look at my pictures I see my fingers, clenched strategically around a certain son's fidgety hands. I see my tight lipped smile. I see the tiredness in my eyes. I see the kid about to dart, I see the tears about to fall, I see the sticky stains of lollipops awarded even though the 'good behavior' most definitely DID NOT happen, just because sometimes sugar squeezes out one itsy bitsy moment of smiling peace. 

And it made me realize that when I look at all YOUR pictures, I don't see what YOU see either. Neither of us are seeing reality, we're seeing a super fast shutter speed snap shot and NONE of the frames on either side. Pictures MAKE things look magical and frozen and perfect. And they make great holiday cards because of it! But we don't need to open them every day and think we are glimpsing an accurate picture of the daily hum drum grind of real icky sticky life. 

We don't need to do that to ourselves! 

Let's enjoy the amazing magical cards and pictures we get in the mail, let's smile at each others gorgeous families and stellar designs and let's use them to decorate our homes and remind us of how much we love our friends and how fun it is to be creative. But let's NOT let it steal from us even one teensy moment of contentment with the life we are living, the realness of it, the rawness of it, the unedited messiness of ALL the frames of it. And for goodness sake. Let's be nice to ourselves. And our families. How 'bout I go first. :)

Thanks for reading friends. 

Merry Christmas! Enjoy a mixture of the sweet and not so sweet that is our family.

Jackson Wayne MacDiarmid

To my Jack.

My littlest mini man. My sweet sweet boy. Sweeping gift of grace and healing, my joy and my solemn reminder of our Sovereign and good God. Today you turn ONE.

I remember the night I found out you'd be coming. Admittedly not my favorite night. But you'd  surprised me and I was a little scared. I stared out at the calendar in front of me, all the hundreds and hundreds of days it would take before I would be back to the place in life I'd felt we'd just finally reached. No pregnancy, no nursing, no sleepless nights or diapers or high chairs. And my beautiful boy I am so so embarrassed to say, I already felt tired. And unsure if it might just actually kill me to go through them all again.

Well. Here we sit. Past the 10 months of pregnancy. Already 365 days in to your life on this earth. And it went by so fast! So so fast! In fact if I could go back now, I'd bring you home from that hospital on day one and live every one of those 365 days over again. (please note I did NOT say the pregnancy part. Um, no thank you.) But relive this past year? In a heart beat. Without hesitation.

The past 365 days were days filled with smiles and wonderment and awe.  Days of laughter and sweet stillness; days of crazy, wild fullness. You have surged more joy into this last year of my life than I ever dreamed possible. You are like the piece of the puzzle we had no idea was missing. You bring peace and completion to our family. Your biggest brother loves you with an affection I've never seen on him before, when he sees you his features instantly melt to a soft happy twinkly-eyed smile, he's so protective and caring and fixated on you. It's amazing.  Your sister is so proud of you, so patient and kind and encouraging, she serves you and cares for you and she has clearly won your adoration. And your other two brothers are so thrilled to pieces about you I think they might actually turn you in to pieces sometimes. And you handle them with all the patience and grace of a good natured puppy, which they may actually think you are from time to time. :) 

I always hear people saying how children grow up so fast we moms need to be careful not to wish the little years away. There was a time when I let that strike panic in my heart because I knew how often I felt like I was limping and gasping my way through them. And even the joyful moments would get buried under all that hard that I'd forget they'd even existed and be wracked with guilt that I wasn't sure I was soaking up all that I could. So I'd scramble to make memories, record events, write as many things down as I possibly could. As though taking record of the little years was the same as enjoying them. Well Jackson Wayne. You may be the youngest of 5, and as you grow up, there may be jokes of how you get the raw end of the deal, from having barely any pictures of you in my belly, to there being no scrapbooked baby book in sight, to having no idea when you first rolled over or what foods you first liked. I may not have written a single post on this blog since the day you were born, but here is what I DID do.

I savored you. 

I breathed in your scent, I memorized your nose and cheeks. I nuzzled your neck, I cradled you and stroked the pudgy tops of your feet for hours. I rocked you to sleep more times than Babywise would have EVER recommended. 

Some days, I'd close you and I into your room to change a diaper or get you dressed, and we'd giggle and babble and stare at each other for waay too long while we pretended there wasn't a tornado of other children running amuck in the rest of the house. 

In those precious first months, I'd take you, just you, sleeping and snuggly in my sling and we'd enjoy long grocery store trips, fun nights with girlfriends, day trips and weekend retreats. And it was so perfectly simple and sweet to have just one little baby, I drank in every bit of that time with you.

In these last few months, when we've had a cherished couple mornings a week when all 4 of your siblings are in school. I'd again take you; just squishy, smiley, happy you, and we'd stroll through our errands or get coffee with friends. I walked slow, I stared in your eyes, we giggled and baby talked and I'd end up wandering aisles aimlessly just playing with your sweet baby self.

I may not have written down your sleep/eat schedule like all the other kids, but that's because you basically trained yourself I didn't even have to teach you anything! And you may have had to go with the flow and get dragged around from event to event instead of napping in your crib or getting to bed at exactly 7. But you slept like a champ wherever we went and then went right back to sleeping in your crib when we were home. Easy going and a lover of sleep. You my child are a miracle baby!

I never once rushed a bedtime with you. In fact sometimes you'd be so excited for bed you'd dive out of my arms into your crib and I couldn't even rock you, so I'd lean over while you lay all bottom up, face buried in your blanket, and I'd stroke your hair and kiss your cheeks for an obnoxiously long amount of time. You'd stare at me with the one eye not buried and a sleepy little smile poking out from your pacifier and just let me linger, like you knew it was for me even more than for you. Of all the savoring that went on this year, that was my favorite by far. 

Jackson, as the days keep coming I know your baby-ness will continue to slip through my fingers. And maybe I won't remember these kinds of moments specifically because I didn't stop time to write them down or take as many pictures of them. And maybe I can't treasure every second of every crazy day to come in this household of ours. And I know that because there's four other people doing everything before you, sometimes it might not feel like anything you do is new or exciting. But I can promise you this. I enjoyed you this year. I looked at you, I saw you and I loved every minuscule aspect of who I saw, and I will continue to do so every year of your sweet little life. 

And so I'm writing this now to tell you, don't you dare let the fact that I can't remember when your first tooth came in make you think you don't matter in this family. We love you so much it seems impossible to imagine there was a time you weren't a part of it. 

Plus, I threw you a fantastic first birthday party. So number five, schmumber schmive. There will always be that.

I love you precious boy. Happiest Happy Birthday. 

Jack's Birth Video (Non graphic!)