I blame Rosie O’Donnell. We’ve been on vacation this week. It’s the last day. And I have no pictures. Not a single one. Why do I blame her? Because in one of her books she talks about scrapbooking and how obsessed she is with it and that in some ways she thinks taking so many pictures of life is a way of not fully living it. Some things you read just go straight to your heart, and that one did. I’ve never been one of those real scrapbookers with the acid-free paper and curlie-cues and such. But I have been a bit of a memory catcher, and something about that observation just zinged me.
I especially take advantage of the idea at my children’s school plays. This is a moment that simply cannot be captured on film. First of all, gym lighting is very, very poor. Second, they always look so much farther away than they were. Third, if you have a camera in front of your face for even one second when there are elementary-aged children singing, dancing, and delivering lines in costume, you WILL miss something. Period. So you really can’t tell from my photo albums that my children have been in plays.
It’s ridiculous really. I need a happy balance. If you don’t end up with any pictures at all, you’ll definitely forget the moment, and that’s not fun either. We’ve got one night left. And I’m going to take pictures like there’s no tomorrow. Starting right now while all four of my men are crashed out in the condo, vacation having completely run them over and won.