I have survived another year of Christmas pictures. Without Killing my child, my husband or myself. Although there was a moment last night that if I had possessed a Traditional Hari Kari sword~ I would have gladly fallen upon it.
All right. Some of this agony was my fault. I waited much longer than I ever do to book the appointment. I normally have the child's Christmas photos done by Thanksgiving. I buy the Christmas outfit when it first appears in September. I am a woman for whom pain should be avoided at all costs. This particularly includes the pain of enduring hordes of other Mom's and Children and HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!!!
I mean, and I know this is sick; I generally have bought all my Holiday cards in the clearance sales in January and address them in August. So I sign the cards, insert the angelic photo of my spawn and mail those suckers off! It is a joke for some of my other Mommy friends that my cards always get there first, which gives me a small evil satisfaction. I win at the Mommy game!
Not this year. This year, I called the Picture People on this Sunday morning and said, Can you get me in?
How about 6 p.m.? All right ~ no problem. I think I have outsmarted the gods of Christmas photos by booking at 6 p.m. on a Sunday night! No one will be there, Right? All other good Mom's will have their children in baths and eating dinner and headed for bed, Right? I will stand alone in the mall, with my dressed up, unfed child at 6 p.m..
Upon my arrival at the Picture Place, I see what I can only imagine as a scene out of a Child Inspired version of "Caligulia". Children screaming and falling down, parents swearing and gesturing at one another, harassed photographers and desk staff. If we added an Orgy Room and the Vomitorium, we would have been all set.
Now, my previous post about judging others aside, there were some families whose gene pool should have dried up long ago. I suspect they crawl out of the woodwork every few years, at Christmas, to have their images recorded for posterity. I think it's the twinkling lights that attract them. That and the candy canes.
Trolls and Hags and Ogres, oh my!
There is not much a Picture People photographer can do if the Material is unattractive. They make maybe 8.00 bucks an hour? They aren't magicians. Placing already "Looks" disadvantaged children in hideous plaid, bad lace and cheap velvet does them no service. Add in a mother chasing her child around and screaming " Attica! Attica! You put that back, you get in your stroller right now!"
Terrance and I raise our eyebrows at each other ~ The baby is named "Attica"?
He says "Maybe where she was born?"
Me: "Or conceived on a conjugal?"
I know. I am mean. I am catty. But I speak the truth.
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12 Baleful Regards:
Makes you wonder about their other kids, Sing-Sing, Leavenworth and Joliet. They were probably back at the homestead tied up behind the whuppin' shed.
do you think they meant to name the child Atticus (after lawyer guy in To Kill a Mockingbird) and just got confused??
I wonder if this is how "The Rock" got his name?
My husband totally knows what your saying about some of these people. He travels alot to manufacturing plants. These plants are usually in po-dunk, West Virginia. He will usually grab dinner after a hard day at whatever restaurant is closest. And THAT's where he gets an eyeful. There was one family at a buffet years ago that comes to mind... The entire family was hunched over their plates, shoveling food into their mouths like they hadn't eaten in weeks. At one point, one of the kids said something the mom didn't like. Quick as a wink, she took a swipe at him with her big ole mitt -- like a bear. And the kid dodged the slap. Marc was amazed at the kid's reflexes and figured that the kid had been hit so much in that manner, he'd developed a reflex for dodging it. Which saddened, yet amazed him.
Attica? A fouled-up version of Annika? Girl or boy?
Have you visited Baby's Named a Bad Bad Thing? It will make you laugh until you cry. I've got the link in my sidebar.
Hi Dawn.
Came over from Lisa's/MM's blog.
Cracking me up...some night, we will be watching the news and hear that a man named Attica killed has his parents in a fit of rage. The reason: they gave him a dumbass name he could never live down. The verdict: he will get off with community service. Justice served.
This is totally hilarious! And totally reminds me of why I have yet to get a family Christmas portrait done.
Have you ever read "SantaLand Diaries" by David Sedaris? It's his story of working as a elf at Macy's. At one point, he and his co-worker realize that Santa is an anagram of Satan:
"We imagined a SatanLand where visitors would wade through steaming pools of human blood and feces before arriving at the Gates of Hell, where a hideous imp in a singed velvet costume would take them by the hand and lead them toward Satan."
Sounds like you know what he's talking about...
It's equally bad when you have an astonishingly good looking child who is simply not photogenic. Oh,the humanity of years of school photos I refused to buy because they SUCKED.
Kid takes better pictures of herself with the digital camera held at arm's length than any photographer ever has.
Oh yes, I love me some David Sedaris. I have seen him the 2 times he has treked to the wilderness that is my home.
Caligula! Hahahahaha! Hey, I bet it wouldn't be much of a stretch to have a vomitorium in those places -- think of the germs and the photo-taking anxiety.
I cannot get my act together early enough each year to avoid the holiday photo crowds, and since I can't STAND the holiday photo crowds, we just do the pics ourselves. I'm certainly not a pro, but there's less "humanity" at my own house.
Like Julie, I highly recommend "Baby's Named a Bad, Bad Thing." Some of those names make Attica look like something as classic as James.
That site is hilarious and a bona fide time suck. My favorite is an alternative spelling of The Bird's real name: Kharrilyne.
We use the regular, old-fashioned, boring, non-"we make our child unique by changing the spelling" spelling. We are such sticks-in-the-mud.
Side note: tried to visit Santa this morning with no binky, no bear, no wipes, no baba and sub-par snacks. So, basically, I deserve the hell I have endured today thus far.
Until I read your post, I was bemoaning the fact that my girls went from being scared shitless of Santa to being totally disinterested in him because he's the 'Fake Mall Santa' and not the real thing (just wait till they find out that even the 'Real Thing' is not the real thing at all but actually Mommy and Daddy schlepping to Target at 11 at night.)
(I'm a Sedaris nut, too.)
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