No More Pictures

“Mommy, no pictures!”

I guess this comment is to be expected. My opinion of my son follows that of every mother who loves their child unconditionally. To me, my tiny human is beautiful. Without question. Tiny Tot is practically GQ-here-we-come stunning.

Since the moment he was born, I have never been able to quite get over how utterly pretty he is, and I always feel inclined to clue him in about my feelings. Not only do I tell him how pretty, handsome, beautiful, smart, brilliant, and amazing he is–to which he also makes comment–I also click pictures like an insane maniac, in an effort to capture his beauty in film.

His “no pictures” remark is way overdue. I’m slightly surprised those weren’t his first words.

My camera is the twenty-first century version, though. In the back of my overflowing closet is a nice, slightly expensive, digital camera. It is used on special occasions, if I can find it, if I can find the charger, and if I remember to plug it in.

It’s a lot of if’s, and a lot of hassle. Hauling around a camera, in a camera case, is not my idea of fun.

And then there’s the whole plugging the camera into the USB port, and figuring out how to transfer the pictures into a folder on the computer. I may be computer savvy, but I know where my priorities lie. It isn’t in figuring out complicated steps in moving images on a digital camera.

I much prefer my camera phone.

Luckily, the camera phone technology is much better than it was a few years ago. I am no longer fighting grainy, ill-focused pictures that refuse to crop without blurring the entire image. I can now take motion shots, close-ups, and far away images that zoom in, without skewing the subject. The only real draw back to my camera phone is the speed at which it takes a picture. No camera phone on the planet can compare to the shutter speed on a manual camera.

Even so, I do a fairly decent job of keeping up with my tiny human when he is being adorable. Which is why, much to my tiny human’s consternation, my iPhone holds two thousand, one hundred, thirty-six pictures.

I know, it’s ridiculous.

Did I mention my main subject is Tiny Tot? His objection to a camera crammed in his face at every opportunity is reasonable. But, hello! I am his mother, and I love that little booger like no one else.

So, I click a few pictures. You know, just a few thousand. … Every year.

My tiny person is beginning to assert his discontent at the insane picture-taking now, but he’s lucky he doesn’t remember being a baby. Every single one of my previous camera phones carries over a few thousand pictures, most of which are saved on memory cards. Unfortunately, they reside in the back of my junk drawer, completely forgotten. I barely remember what I did without my iPhone, iCloud, and PhotoStream. But I believe I still clicked over twenty pictures a day during my son’s first year of life.

Poor Tiny.

This Mommy’s camera is always readily accessible, and she utilizes it at every opportunity. Given any moment in time, Tiny Tot hears, “Hold that pose! Look at Mommy! Say ‘Cheese!'”

Is it any wonder he tells me to stop?

Maybe my hope is to remember every second of his life. Or, perhaps it is the need to look back at every smile, odd look, and snot-nosed, screeching fit. I do happen to love all of his faces, though not often at the time they occur.

It is also possible that Mommy is a bit egotistical, and likes staring at the tiny human she spent nine months growing, human incubator style.

I mean, anything’s possible, right?

Personally, I just love looking at him, and forcing coworkers to stare obligingly at his silly antics. I really miss that booger when I’m at work.

So, Tiny will try to enforce his “No Pictures” policy, but this Mommy is definitely planning on ignoring his request.

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No comments posted on October 28, 2012 in Parenting, Winging It, Mom Style

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