“Just chase after him, and I’ll grab the snacks!” I called out to my husband, Jake. Dressed in our holiday finest, he sprinted after our eighteen-month-old son, Leo, in the yard. It was Christmas Card Photo Day, and the terrible twos had hit early. Leo was like a miniature superhero, zooming around like Dash from The Incredibles, and he clearly hadn’t gotten the memo about standing still for pictures. We had enlisted a professional photographer for this occasion, but instead of calm poses, we were in the midst of what felt like a chaotic field report.
“Maybe this wasn’t the best idea—trying to get a formal photo with a one-year-old and a three-year-old,” Jake sighed, looking frazzled. “We should just apologize to the photographer, pay her, and call it a day.”
“No way!” I silently vowed. I was determined to capture at least one nice family portrait to send to 175 of our closest friends and relatives, complete with my annual Christmas letter. This was the season of giving, not giving up. To me, the photo shoot seemed like a minor challenge—well, maybe more like a sprint—but I’d managed tougher days on my own. An impromptu game of toddler tag with a few adult supervisors wouldn’t derail this mission. Jake was understandably stressed, perhaps even a bit worn out, but what he didn’t realize was that this might be my only chance to get clean-faced, neatly dressed children in their holiday attire—white turtlenecks paired with red cable-knit vests and dark corduroy pants, all from a fancy store. I even opted for a stylish sweater set instead of my usual mom uniform. Blurry or not, we were going to get that photo.
Laura, our photographer, was new to the wild world of working with toddlers but had the energy to keep up with our spirited crew. She suggested we start by sitting the boys on our laps for an outdoor shot, so I hurried to grab a blanket. Our older son, Max, wiggled around while Leo refused to cooperate. The series of photos depicts Jake holding Leo in a tight grip that resembled a life-saving maneuver. Between the plaid blanket and our antics, capturing a serene moment was proving to be quite a challenge.
“Let’s try some indoor shots,” Laura suggested, perhaps hoping to keep the boys contained. Unfortunately, that plan didn’t fare any better. There were no tears, but the scene was filled with distractions and snack time chaos. Strike two.
“How about our back porch?” I proposed, still focused on attaining the perfect family portrait. The porch became our backdrop, and with each of us holding a boy, we posed against the white wooden railing. Nearly an hour had passed.
“Say Cheese! Say Spiderman! Say Family!” Laura prompted. “Family” was the magic word—the third time’s the charm.
To our surprise, the porch shot turned out beautifully and resonated with everyone who received our card. I was inundated with compliments, as if I’d just won an award. A cousin even declared us the winners of her annual card contest, and a college friend—who was still single—framed it for his living room. My mom was in tears.
“Why all the fuss?” I wondered, but then it hit me. I guess we looked good together. The warmth and connection in the photo conveyed a sense of hope, perhaps reaching out to a lonely aunt or a long-lost friend whose address I had unearthed before the age of social media. Our card struck a chord with many, though they had no idea how much effort went into it.
Maybe it was our determination that shone through, embodying the resilience that new parents often embrace. Or maybe it was just my stylish sweater set. Whatever the reason, I couldn’t bring myself to replace that treasured black-and-white photo. It resides in a quirky metal frame featuring Kokopelli that Jake brought home from a trip. While it doesn’t match our decor, I didn’t mind—it serves its purpose well. Over time, that photo seemed to gain a certain significance, akin to a family heirloom.
“Am I going to need to chase you again today?” Laura playfully asked Leo during this year’s photo session, reminiscing about our chaotic past. With a sheepish smile, he shrugged, offering a soft, long-delayed apology. Christmas Card Photo Day remains one of my favorites, even if my co-stars aren’t as thrilled. This year involved numerous bribes to get them out of their comfy sweatpants. Thankfully, they actually sat still, trading playful nudges as they got into position. As before, Laura encouraged us to share genuine smiles.
“Say Family!” she said, capturing the moment.
In the end, family portraits remind us of the chaos and joy that come with parenthood. For more tips on parenting and home insemination, you can explore resources like this one or check out this informative article about engaging activities for kids. And if you’re seeking guidance on fertility, the CDC has valuable information.
Summary
Christmas Card Photo Day can be a chaotic yet rewarding experience for families. The story follows a couple’s hilarious attempts to capture the perfect family portrait amidst the antics of their young children. Despite the challenges, they ultimately find success and joy in the process, proving that perseverance pays off.