Mr MotherFudger isn’t a fan of taking pictures of the family. He once said “all you need is a picture when they’re born, one when they start school and another if they get married”. He wasn’t really joking. Think more of a Victorian gent of a man with a love of his e-cig and his iPad and you’d be about right. Despite his love of technology, he’s not a photo fan. It’s in the genes. His family practically retort in pain when I get my phone out AGAIN.
Paula Abdul was very right when she sang “Opposites Attract”.
So there I am whipping out my phone to take yet another picture. Weirdly I am also from the kind of family who last took a photo in 1987, finally sent it off to Truprint in 1992 and haven’t bothered with that kind of thing since.
I’m the self-appointed photographer for the whole family. The Mario Testini to the Royal Family as t’were, although most of my pictures are pretty shit and all are taken on an iPhone.
The thing is, everyone loves the photos I take. Mr MF has even been known to shed a tear while scrolling through pictures of our offspring – and the emotion on the grandparents’ faces the Christmas before last when I’d made them each a photobook was pretty special. Oh yes.
So persist I do through the groans and the grumbles, which is kinda weird in a time when taking pictures constantly is the norm. Most of my rellies would laugh at the idea that Instagram is a thing. Even the girlchild seems to have the anti-photo gene and growls, shouts and basically refuses to have her picture taken. Despite a period of showing off for the camera aged 2, she’s now a camera hater.
But occasionally I persist, nay, demand I take some. I bribe, I promise, I do whatever is needed to ensure I get some pictures I can proudly display on the wall. I say on the wall – there is only one image of the boychild as a baby because I was LOOKING AFTER TWO BLOODY CHILDREN and had no time to upload a million of said images to Photobox and print any. It’s fine – we all just lie to him and tell him some of the baby pictures are him, even though they’re his sister. Shh, he’ll never know.
Soooooooooo, the other day, there we were, the 4 of us looking not quite so tramplike as usual and I thought oh yes, let’s do this, let’s do a DIY job of a family picture.
I bribed the girlchild by saying she could click the selfie stick button thing. She did a good job – we ended up with 80 pictures. There’s 2 good ones. I say good as in they are acceptable.
But as we were reviewing them, Mr MF and I did laugh at the event.
The girlchild had a tantrum about the whole scenario, then refused to take part, then we got her back on board and the boychild went nuts as his blanket was taken away, and then everyone (apart from me) left the scene, and then we all came back together.
My legs look like the size of small whales. This is probably because they are the size of small whales. I’m hopeful it’s just the selfie stick angle, however it has motivated me to rejoin Slimming World.
I thought I’d share a handful of our rather failed attempt at getting that perfect picture…bet Mario didn’t have to deal with this shit at the Royal photo sessions: