I have an almost pathological need to take pictures. This is expected, of course. As a blogger, I’m supposed to document everything. But my compulsion goes deeper than that.
There are no pictures of me until about age, I don’t know, five? And I do mean none. I could very well be adopted (as my cousins always tried to convince me I was). Except, of course, for the fact that the family resemblance is so strong. There’s no denying that I’m a Foulkrod through and through.
That lack of photographic evidence of my babyhood may have bothered my mom a bit. Especially since I have never been shy about rubbing it in. But she took it all in stride.
I, however, am not so good at dealing with guilt. So now that I am a mom with a family of my own? I have the aforementioned pathological need to take pictures.
Unfortunately, that means there are very few pictures of me. I am, after all, the one who’s usually behind the camera, demanding everyone smile and look like they’re having a good time.
To get the shining family portraits I dream of, professional assistance is necessary.
That’s why, on a surprisingly balmy day in early November, we gamboled about Oliver Winery, posing and otherwise hamming it up for our lovely photographer, Lisa Gupton.
We got lots and lots of fabulous shots. Photos in which we’re all smiling, with hair neatly brushed and clothes tidy and straight. But those aren’t my favorites.
Nope, the ones I love capture us as we really are – when we’re not trying to look shiny and perfect for the camera.
We have more photogenic shots of her. But none where her smile is this real.
Brian thinks she looks like she's pooping. I think she's adorable.
What can I say? I just love this one.
And this is my hand’s down favorite:
Picture perfect? No. Perfect? Yes.
Brian’s looking down, Tori’s leg is in the air, but the joy? Is genuine. And that’s what makes a perfect photo, in my book.
What’s your idea of the perfect picture?
