Perspective

Sometimes mothering is just a pain in the proverbial butt, you know? Last week we decided to take the kids on a spontaneous trip to the coast on New Year's Day. (Reason 357 to love Oregon, by the by.) The weather here in town has been a bit Mordor-like and we decided to chase the sunshine. The kids were funny about going . . . imagine my children not doing spontaneous well! (There is heavy snark in the last remark.) Anyway, we basically rolled out of bed at ten and hit the road by noon. We hiked first.

And, you know, I just wanted one stinking picture of those little rascals where they were all looking at the camera. Because if the Internet has taught me one thing, it is that perfect family photos are a symbol of perfect families.

Instead I got this series:

I finally put my camera away in disgust and started storming back the way we came--the photos were from our turn-around-spot. I clomped down the trail for a while, tears smarting and feeling it enormously unfair that I'm surrounded by boys ALL THE TIME. But honestly, you've seen my baby boy and when he sidled up next to me with his very contrite face and slipped his hand into mine, I didn't stay mad very long.

Then, few minutes later, I got my perfect shot:

Perfect families are just a myth. Of course. But perfect moments happen all the time. As I looked up that trail toward those four men of varying sizes that I love with an intensity that scares me sometimes, I decided that perfect is for wimps. The challenge and joy of these four is the thing that matters the most. 

I just wish, for the love, that they'd stand still for some decent pictures!!