Get Over it Woman.

I've always hated photos of myself.

 

In fact, I successfully avoided any and all photos in my family photo album for what looks like close to 3 years.

 

Yup.

 

There are hundreds of photos of my lovely ladies and their amazing father.

 

None of the awesomeness that is the woman who carried them around for 9 months and provide them with food and boo boo kisses on a daily basis.

 

I'm sure the main reason for this is because I'm the photographer and am usually the one behind the camera.

 

Or because I declare that I look like an ugly beast and hide behind anyone or anything within 5 feet anytime a lens is pointed in my general direction.

 

Take your pick.

 

Either way, if I were to die in a horrible freak accident (like overdosing on caffeine which in my case is completely possible) my children would never know that they did in fact have a mother who carried them in her womb and loved them even on days when she didn't look her 100% best or kissed their boo boos even when those boo boos happened to be on disgusting feet or right butt cheeks or whom fed them 3-10 meals a day or watched The Lorax 9 times in one week because she didn't care about her own sanity or cleaned up all the cheerios they spilled on purpose or who updated her family blog while a toddler wrestled her hands.

 

You get the point.

 

So over this last year I've been doing a little challenge on Instagram.

 

It's called the 365 challenge and it entails taking 1 self portrait per day for an entire year.

 

So far I'm 254 days into this challenge and I've (surprisingly) really enjoyed the process.

 

It's actually taught me a couple of things.

 

1. I love taking portraits with/near/around my babies.

 

2. I need to take better care of myself physically, not only for myself but to be an example of health for my children.

 

3. The little moments are the most important to me.

 

Maybe all of this has been brought on by my marathon-o-sad-movies I enjoyed the other day.

 

(Seven Pounds, P.S. I Love You, and Harry Potter anyone?)

 

(Don't judge me on the Harry Potter.)

 

Sad movies aside, I want my children to have memories of me.

 

Physical memories that they can look back on and remember fondly.

 

I want them to have photographs of us having fun together.

 

Laughing, smiling, loving one another.

 

I guess this whole post is just to remind myself (and anyone else whom avoids the camera) to jump in on those moments.

 

No one will care that you looked like a hot mess while you were camping.

 

All they'll see is that you had an awesome time with your family and that you were THERE.

 

 

Your family loves you just the way you are.

 

(Thank you Mr. Harriot for this awesome puffy faced, no shower, early morning, 2 nights camping, covered in everything photo and forcing me to be in it.)

 

(Also thank you for my lovely little ladies.)