Our church is taking photos of our congregation for the member directory. I signed up the Zohrfamily for our photo shoot about 3 weeks ago for an appointment this past Saturday at 3:35 p.m. I picked that time because I thought that it would give me plenty of time to pick out clothes, wash, dry and iron them, and then personally assemble each family member in their outfits, fix their hair, spit shine their faces, and get to the church on time. You would think this would be a fairly logical and easy goal to achieve. I give myself entirely too much credit, it seems.
This was the first family photo we’ve had taken since…well…uh…lemme think…ever. I was going to say since Little B and Little A graced our family, but it’s actually never been attempted before this. There was apparently a reason for this. What. a. nightmare. While I was attempting to iron, bathe and assemble children, Zohrhubby disappeared for his conveniently scheduled appointment for a haircut at 1:30, followed by a shopping trip for new pants, which put him MIA for all of the pre-event festivities. When he got home, I was just barely finished with the kids, and with less than forty minutes to spare before we had to leave, I jumped in the shower to get myself ready. It wasn’t until I was out of the shower and began getting ready that ZH announced that he had to take ANOTHER shower (even though he’d aged less than 3 hours since his last) because apparently haircuts are gnarly procedures and he was thusly soiled. When he got out of the shower (now only 15 minutes on the clock) he arbitrarily began critiquing my clothing choices for the kids. This resulted in a tiny, barely noticeable SHOUTING MATCH (by which I am referring that MY SHOUTING had no match) whereby he was informed that my choices would stand and we had to leave. Now.
He began RE-FIXING Little A’s hair (UGH!) and asking me again why I’d chosen her clothes, instead of one of her pretty dresses. What she had on was fine, okay? Seriously. And while I would have preferred a dress, all of her dresses are sleeveless summer dresses, and the rest of us were all dressed in darker, fall type of things.
Now, I don’t generally pay such attention to details, but I’ve seen family photographs before, and the families all seem so happy and match-y and as a result, seem to be a cohesive unit, and I always imagined that I’d one day have a family that looked like that, and so I thought we might be able to pull it off. You know, the “Normal Family” thing.
I didn’t explain the normal family fantasy to ZH, there simply was no time. I rattled off something about summer dresses and left ZH to fret over Little A’s hair, whilst I got everyone else in the car. We got in, I started her up, and we waited. We were just barely running on time. If we left right then. But, of course, we did not leave right then, because we were still waiting on ZH and Little A. And waiting. And waiting. Nearly 4 minutes went by. Converted into “Zohrbak is Sitting in a Running Vehicle with 3 out of 4 Children and Sans ZH Daylight Savings Time” (ZSRVCSZHDST), that equals 4 days. The realization that ZH was inside ironing a summer dress for Little A to change into dawned on me about 2 minutes in. Since my makeup and hair were fresh, I was trying very hard to keep the fault line from forming between my eyes and the veins from popping out of my neck as this would surely ruin the family portrait. Sure enough, 2 minutes later, Little A comes bounding around the gate in her pretty, sleeveless, pink summer dress. I tried to control myself, not for the purpose of “being the bigger person” or giving ZH the “benefit of the doubt”, but simply because we had no time for an argument and my face would have turned to crap. I drove to the church like a mad woman (and I was. A mad. Woman.) but trying to keep my bad attitude from ruining my face. We got there with less than a minute to spare, and got the pictures taken.
I was so stressed out that the normal effort required for my face to contort into a smile was increased tenfold. We got to review our digital pictures immediately, so I am able to report that everyone in our family portrait looked normal and happy and cohesive. Except ME!