The Rest of the Story
Every year I think, this year, no previews on social media.
When I'm knee deep in the Back to School Season I have five work cycles in motion within the span of two months : Bookings, Shooting, Editing, Previews and Delivering. When there are at least a dozen sessions each weekend that's a whole lotta people at different stages. Right about in the middle of the cycle I think, letting go of previews would decompress some of the pressure.
But then, I think about the Mama's who hide behind bushes and walls, Mama's who pretend to have forgotten something in their car because I've asked them to walk away, who do their best to listen for laughter or those who even zoom in with their smartphone to catch a glimpse of the action and I know previews must stay.
Today I received a gift. It felt like it was 1987 and I was in the car with my Dad and Paul Harvey was saying on the radio, "and now you know the rest of the story."
The Photographer
Hey Mom, remember that time you brought me my bow tie?
The night before my phone pinged and it was Mom telling me that he was begging to wear a bow tie to his session. And I was stoked. I mean if you can rock a bow tie you are my kind of guy.
So, when he showed up sans bow tie my heart dropped a little bit but kids are fickle and who knows. We marched on....
As we were walking to the "special desk" she pulls up all Mission Impossible style and low and behold the bow tie makes an appearance.
This is the joy that one moment, that one split decision, brought the boy.
The Mother
‘Twas the night before pictures and I was in his closet bracing myself for what liberties he might take when I told him he could pick whatever clothes he wanted for his kindergarten pictures with Monica. In my head, I was already handing myself a trophy for mom of the year, while simultaneously bracing myself for the prized tie dyed tank top and under armour shorts I just knew were coming. “I need to dress fancy. REAL fancy” he said. Score. I pull out all the monogrammed polos that I would have forced on him if I hadn’t adopted the “live like it’s 1987” mantra this summer. “No. Fancier. I want to wear my church shirt. With a bow tie.”
“1987” I remind myself and take the shirt to iron. In the morning rush to get out the door, I maybe not so accidentally forgot the bow tie. As we pull up, he panics a little and reminds me that we forgot his bow tie. It’s not too hard to sweep under the rug, because he’s so pumped to see Monica. As I walked back to the car, I said “screw it. He needs the bow tie”. When I pulled up and hopped out with it, he lit up like only he can. I can’t believe I ever worried about how ridiculous it would look. It’s SO him, I can’t even handle it. While I can’t believe my man is heading to kinder, I don’t worry about him one single bit. He is so confident and happy, I know he’s going to rock it.
