Mini Photo Journal

Photographers deal in things which are continually vanishing and when they have vanished there is no contrivance on earth which can make them come back again ~ Henri Cartier-Bresson

Take this photo, for example:

Lila had dressed up for our daily bike ride on Monday, taking care to wear colors that would match her helmet. She's usually not all that concerned with outfit choices (unless it's to get a laugh), so this was new. Along with her pink-and-teal getup, she wore such confidence that day, the likes of which I hadn't seen before. I could tell there was some sort of new exuberant independence going on. Not sure where it came from, but it was so sweet and different. As we were running out the front door to get the bikes from the garage, I grabbed my camera and quickly shoved the lens cap into my back pocket. The three of us perched atop our bikes, I somehow managed to capture this millisecond in time before Speed Racer bolted out of the frame. It's not the best photo. I do realize my children appear limbless, at best, and that the central focus is really of, well, the space between them (and a bit of my bumper). But down the road, when I look back on this image, I'll smile to myself and remember Lila's newfound confidence on an everyday bike ride, on a random Monday. A moment that cannot and will not come back again.

Talking about great photography, I'm reminded of this quote (attributed to that famous guy, Anonymous): "Buying a Nikon doesn't make you a photographer. It makes you a Nikon owner." I get it, Anon. I am simply a Nikon owner. I also get that becoming a pro at photo editing does not make one a photographer, either, nor does talking camera-speak at shindigs or lugging said Nikon to every outing. (Though I do know someone who does none of the above and is one of the best photographers I know.)

But. Taking these photographs may make me a historian, of sorts. Perhaps a bit of a photojournalist, as well, for my own tiny family. And that's a job I'll never take lightly, and one I'll never quit. I get to capture everyday moments like this one, prefaced simply by: "Mommy, will you please take my picture?"

I finally got a pic of the hound, the hubby, and the hooligan, dressed in their finest and on their way back from their usual 7am dog drag walk.

Though he's posing here, AJ can actually often be found sporting such an expression these days. I'll look at this photo ten years from now and be reminded of his, um, 'very active year.' (Note that my positive spin persona chose not to change the word year into its plural form.)

AJ immediately followed up his Velociraptor pose with a quick hug for his sister.

Awwhhh.... usually hugs last only so long, until the inevitable kicks to the head resume.

Aaaand, then it's back to Smackdown City, Round 43.

Guilty? Or not guilty. You be the judge:

Thanks to such 'active' children, I have umpteen photo ops. However, it's usually only about 7% of the time that: (a) I can find my camera; (b) it's charged and the memory card isn't full; and (c) I can jump out of the moment just long enough to even think about taking a picture, before that moment is gone...

Ransacking Mommy's closet is something the kids like to do whenever they get a chance. 

Exhibit A: Midnight Cowgirl

Exhibit B: The Satin Pirate

AJ was not up for photos at this juncture. During this shot, he was behind me, trying to pull down my pants, wearing his dad's baseball shirt, dress shoes, and a Harley-Davidson trucker hat. Glad our closets full of fashion faux pas can at least result in more fun for the kiddos.


In any event, I'm happy to be our little family's historian. Because I get to capture these smiles...

...this look...

...and (for how very, very fleeting they are), those sweet, calm moments.

Happy Wednesday, fellow family historians!