The car ride there was normal enough.
Everyone’s clothes were neatly pressed. Every strand of hair was in place. Faces were clean. Nails were cut. Happy faces, smiles galore.
We were ready for our first family photography session.
I even took the time to color coordinate our clothes. We weren’t all wearing the same color because I thought that would be cheesy. But we were wearing “cool tones,” green with splashes of blue hues.
And we entered like champions. My husband Jason looked handsome in his nice suit. I managed to keep my hair stick straight despite the humidity. Our son James looked pretty dapper in his tie. Our daughter Elsie had the quintessential Southern-gigantic bow in her hair. And our baby Jase was cute-as-a-button in his pastel blue cotton attire.
“Kids, gather around,” I said, leaning down to their level. “We are going to do this photo-thing with good behavior. Do not, I repeat do not, go in there acting crazy. Try to act normal, please.”
James replied with an obedient, “yes, Momma.” Elsie looked off in the distance. And Jase spit a bubble at me.
So far, so good.
But as soon I walked into the room, I knew we were in trouble.
The photographer, (he was actually very nice), approached us with his vibrant-colored paisley-print shirt.
“Pattersons?” he asked.
Within seconds, he was changing backdrops. In two seconds flat we went from rustic woods to oil-canvased blue.
“I just hope he doesn’t have those laser backgrounds from when we were kids,” I whispered to Jason.
“He probably does,” Jason replied, with a grin.
Then the photographer began bringing props out. Boxes, greenery, floral arrangements, statues, ferns...everything you could think of to capture “his vision.”
Everything was going great, but as any mother would tell you, it was beginning to take longer than I expected to set up.
“Excuse me, but this background is fine,” I told the professional. “I am not trying to rush you, but you have about a five-minute window with the kids. After that, it’s over.”
That window was slowly starting to close. Jase managed to unscrew the lid of his sippy cup, spilling milk all over the floor.
“That is why I chose pastel,” I said, elbowing Jason who had earlier made fun of Jase’s outfit. “The milk stains won’t show as bad.”
James was in the corner, shadow-boxing. I cringed as I watch his tie begin to loosen and his freshly-ironed shirt wrinkle with every Mike Tyson swing.
Elsie was twirling around, inches away from the Greek statue that was to be used for “Pose #3.”
We were finally summoned to get in our position. It didn’t go as planned.
Jason was the solid foundation of our pose, standing in the back, proud and tall.
I was shoved into a seat. I tried to sit straight as I leaned to one side.
James was busy laughing at something in space.
Elsie looked bored, and even tried to get on Daddy’s back.
Jase was constantly trying to pull Elsie’s hair as I attempted to hold him in my lopsided seat. (Later, in the finished photograph, you can see the death grip I had on Jase’s arm to prevent the hair-pulling).
We must have taken about three dozen shots. Only one worked out.
Then the photographer attempted to position the children on the floor together. Hands on shoulders, loving embrace.
That lasted about two seconds.
Elsie began spinning around in circles on the floor like a breakdancer. Jase started attempting to remove his diaper. And James’s sweat stains from his earlier boxing match with the air began to spread to the front of his shirt.
“I think we are done,” I told the photographer. “I’m sorry but with this crew, you get what you can in a hurry.”
The 45-minute shoot resulted in one good shot. Yep, just one good shot. But it was a great one.
As we left the photo shoot, I felt we did well despite the ridiculous circumstances. In my business if you get one good photo, that’s good enough. The same is true with family portraits.
We may not have looked the part with Jason undoing his tie, James with his sweat-covered shirt, Elsie with a dirty breakdancing dress, Jase coming out of his clothes. And me, with now-frizzy hair and a look of exhaustion.
But we are the Pattersons, and we worked that shoot like no other.
