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Somebody (Anyone) Please Capture My Image
As I navigate through my social media feed, it becomes abundantly clear that my digital presence is dominated by images of my children and our various escapades. Interspersed among these are some scenic nature photographs, a few memes, and, oddly enough, an inordinate number of pictures of a tree that has captured my affection. However, there’s a conspicuous absence of me in these memories, save for a few awkward selfies where I seem to be pleading for inclusion in our family’s narrative.
For my children to remember that they had an engaged mother, rather than just someone who handed them toast and chased them with a hairbrush, I often resort to taking these self-portraits. They are my only means of ensuring my presence is felt in our family album, allowing me to be remembered as an active participant in their lives, rather than merely the woman who frequently sanitized countertops or stealthily indulged in chocolate in the bathroom.
When I attempt to solicit someone to take a family photo, it inevitably turns into a comedic ordeal. Eye rolls and groans abound. The mere request to stand still for a moment and smile transforms into an exaggerated display of reluctance, as if everyone involved is competing for the title of “Most Unenthusiastic Family Member.” I adore them, yet they can be extraordinarily exasperating.
Thus, I turn to selfies.
- Here’s a shot of mom hiking with her family.
- Here’s mom documenting our new family vehicle.
- Here’s mom on the beach, trying to get that perfect angle.
- At the lake, again striving for a decent image.
- Here’s mom, in every conceivable way, trying to be included in these memories.
Despite being constantly surrounded by my children, there are few photos of us together unless I am the one behind the camera. Typically, mothers fulfill the role of memory keepers, proclaiming, “We are going to cherish these moments, come rain or shine.” I coordinated the outing, packed the meals, and searched high and low for missing items so we could venture out together. I am the architect of these cherished experiences, and I deserve to be featured in the photographs.
Admittedly, I am not fond of taking selfies. I struggle with the mechanics of it; I am not part of the millennial crowd, and I often feel perplexed about the right angles and filters to use. Should I tilt the camera up, down, or to the side? I am usually left pointing my phone at my face and hoping for the best.
So, I implore someone—anyone—to capture my image, so that my kids won’t think my face was the size of a continent. I want candid photographs that reflect our real lives together—snuggling, laughing, wrestling, swimming. In 20 years, I won’t mind that my hair was unkempt or that I was devoid of makeup while grinning at the camera. I will be thrilled to see tangible proof of my existence during their childhood, beyond just being the voice reminding them to stop changing outfits a thousand times a day.
I know I’m not alone in this sentiment. In two decades, our children may envision us as having perpetually held a phone at arm’s length, saying, “Please smile! Get your tongue back in your mouth!” We should collectively pledge to capture more images of mothers, as we often struggle to photograph ourselves.
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In conclusion, let us strive to include mothers in the memories we create. Photos matter, and it is essential that we document our presence in our children’s lives.