We’ve all seen her. I’d even be willing to bet some of us have judged her from afar, rolling our eyes or making snide comments to the mom sitting next to us. Some of us have even been her.
She’s chasing after her kids, phone in hand, begging them to stop–for just a second–so she can click a picture. Maybe her child is fast asleep on her shoulder and she’s squirming around, frantically digging through her purse for something.
Oh. It’s her phone. And SURPRISE! She’s taking a selfie. Annoying, right?
Hello. I’m Shari and I, shamelessly, love selfies. I see your eye-rolls. I hear your sarcastic comments. I know what you’re thinking. And you may be surprised to learn that it doesn’t affect me.
Let me explain…
I was born in the mid 80’s. The cameras were clunky and everything was film based. You never really knew what your photos would look like until you picked them up at the local drugstore–and the memories never looked as good on paper as the moment did in real life. Film was expensive and trying to get kids to pose nicely for photos could fill a reel in no time.
I don’t have many photos of me as a child with my mom and dad. My younger brother and sister have even less than I do; and there definitely aren’t any photos of the small, special–forgettable–moments.
You know the moments I’m talking about. But can you recall them?
The sweet face your baby makes when they just finished eating and are nuzzled in your arms, fast asleep after you struggled for hours, in tears, trying to get them to latch properly.
Or the time you were feeling extra tired–you hadn’t slept in what felt like weeks–and after hours of bouncing, singing and even a little praying, you finally succeeded! Your darling baby was finally snoozing.
I love that I’m able to capture moments like these; the moments that may seem so mundane and meaningless to others but mean the world to me. Like when my son was brand new and I was in a constant fog–somehow surviving on peanut butter pretzels and pure, unconditional love.
In those times I couldn’t even tell you when I last showered. There’s no way I would have ever recalled these beautiful memories of early motherhood without my trusty Samsung by my side–rapidly clicking selfies like there was no tomorrow.
I also love that I can take the pictures myself. I don’t have to rely on someone else to take the photo. If I choose, the moment can remain between me and my sweet baby, tucked away, (mostly) safe somewhere on a cloud. I can also make the choice whether to share the photo with family or friends–maybe even on social media.
If my selfies are too much for you to handle, it’s okay. I can understand your annoyances (you know there is an “unfollow” button–right?). This isn’t to say I will suddenly feel bad or be embarrassed to be the mom chasing around my toddler at the park, taking selfie after selfie until I catch him smiling so I can see his new pearly whites (man, teething is tough!). Nor does it mean I will stop.
When you look at my selfies, you might think I’m “looking for attention,” narcissistic, or that I’m not “enjoying the present.” Dear reader, it couldn’t be further from the truth. When I look at the selfies stored on my phone or shared on Instagram I don’t focus on what I was wearing or whether or not I was having a good/bad hair day. I don’t only see my baby snuggled up close or me smiling for the camera while my baby acts like he’s being tortured (I assure you, he’s not!).
Instead I see a mom doing the best she can. I recall the feelings–sometimes despair and desperation, and sometimes absolute bliss and pride. I see both my son and I transforming–learning and growing day by day. These moments and the feelings they awaken are precisely the reasons I won’t ever apologize for taking selfies with my child and I urge you not to either.
In fact, I hope I can continue to document our time together through all his stages. He’s growing up so fast… First day of Preschool? You bet! I’ll be there with my selfie stick ready and my finger on the trigger! Of course I won’t miss the big things, but I don’t want to miss the “everyday” things either. Like his first blizzard. There’s a selfie for that!
Both my husband and I picked him up from daycare–he had so many clothes on that he couldn’t even move–let alone barely sit up straight. He had socks on his hands instead of mittens because we were in a rush that morning and didn’t have time to search for them (actually, he wore socks instead of mittens almost all winter. They worked great!). We strapped him into his red sled and my husband struggled the whole block home, pulling him though over a foot of heavy, fresh snow.
I love that both the memory and the details of it aren’t forgotten.
I plan to save these precious pictures of my son and I and someday compile them all in a special “Mommy and Me” photo-book. Maybe I’ll give it to him when he has a child of his own, as a reminder to appreciate the small moments–no matter how tired he is or how mundane they may seem–for those moments are truly the ones that mean the most.
