by Lynn-Nore Chittom

Created on: August 21, 2009

The last time my family had portraits made my kids were ages six and one. I vowed we wouldn't do it again until the kids were old enough to drive. It was a nightmare. It was a disaster. It was hysterical.

The plan was to give out family portraits as part of our Christmas gifts. With that in mind we scheduled a time at a local department store portrait studio for an evening in early November. I picked out color-coordinated winter outfits and we waited for the big day. How were we to know we'd suddenly have a really, really warm spell in late fall?

So, there we were in our beautiful winter clothes sweating our way from the parking lot to the portrait room. Of course, the heat was on in the store, as it should be in November, so we continued to sweat through the entire photo shoot. The heat isn't really the story though, just the back drop. Behind all of the craziness it is important to imagine that we're melting down in more ways than one!

The nice photographer lady, a black woman in her mid-twenties named Tiffany, met us with a smile. By the end of the evening, I think she was reconsidering her career choice. It began ok. Tiffany configured our family on tiny stools and attempted to keep our eighteen month old son, Caleb, smiling and happy. That lasted about two seconds. In an effort to keep him happy, she handed Caleb a shiny, round Christmas ornament. Evidently Caleb saw the major leagues, and he's a pitcher! In between every shot she took, Caleb lifted the ball and threw it. Every time he lifted it he accidently hit me in the nose. So the adventure went something like this: Tiffany would giggle at Caleb, Caleb would giggle and look in the wrong direction, Tiffany would snap the shot, Caleb would lift his arm and hit me in the nose with the back of his hand, he'd throw the ball, Tiffany would retrieve the ball and the whole thing would start over again. And, that's just what was happening in my corner of the picture.

On the other side of the canvas, my husband and our daughter, Kara, were having their own issues. Kara would lean on Daddy. Kara wouldn't sit up straight. Kara would act is if she were strung out on valium and couldn't hold herself upright. This went on from shots 1 through about 15 none of which were good enough to qualify as a portrait, let alone a Christmas gift. Around shot fifteen, Kara completely lost it and began whining without cause. In response to her whining my husband remarked Kara, it's not all about you.

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