Outtakes

We did the dreaded christmas photo thingy last weekend. I took over one hundred pictures- you gasp, but ask any mama with three young uns. It is a scientific fact that it is impossible to get them all to face the camera at the same time, or not to itch, or not to cry or make funny faces. This is why I will be hiring child model stand ins next year. I kid. I kid. Sorta.

But I was beyond frustrated with them- it suddenly seemed like the most important thing in the world, to get perfect pictures. By the tree, by the fireplace. Look at me, look st my perfect trio. We look nice, we act nice. Not. But thank God for outtakes.

Ninety nine pictures later, we had a passable photo that I could crop and use for cards- or so I thought. Sent them off to the printers and viola, resolution was too low. So i am left with a stack of blurry, imperfect christmas cards,

Then I remember the shootings in Connecticut and some stockings that will never be seen by some little angel again. Christmas cards that may have been the last pictures taken with family. And I stuff my blurred, low resolution, Walmart printed cards in the mailbox. 'That'll do," I think to myself. My life is not perfect. Noone's is. No outtakes for life- so I'm gonna enjoy mine and not obsess about silly things- like christmas cards that people may toss after a season.

I'm learning.

Bless you, bless us. Merry Christmas, Pradists.