*A portrait of my child, once a week, every week, in 2015*
The wet conclusion to our Mother's Day photo shoot. I had imagined an idyllic afternoon with my well-dressed sweet boy giving me perfectly-posed kisses and smiles so that we could have some beautiful photographs of the two of us together on Mother's Day. I carefully picked out your outfit, brushed your hair, and then followed you around to make sure you didn't get dirty before leaving the house. I even curled my own hair, and put on some lipstick (not a common sight around here). We picked a pretty spot in front of a waterfall with a little stream running next to it. Papa took exactly two pictures before you decided to fling yourself, arms stretched out in front of you like Superman, into the stream. It happened so quickly and with such dedication to flying that I didn't see it coming. As soon as you hit the freezing cold water, you started sobbing and Papa had to scoop you up and carry you back to the car, stripping your wet clothes piece by piece, with me collecting them behind. I barely had time to snap one photo of you standing by the car, wet and cold, your little shorts around your ankles, before you were inside getting warmed up and our Mother's Day photo shoot was officially over. Definitely not what I had in mind, but in the end this photo seems like a more authentic portrait of what motherhood actually looks like on a daily basis.
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