The fiendish (but very lovely) Tara of Sticky Fingers fame has decided to make everyone’s brains work overtime this New Year by setting a near-impossible meme – choose your favourite photo and say why.
Sounds easy enough, doesn’t it? But try doing it. Once upon a time, I would have picked a wedding photo – but not now. Then again, maybe I should select one from the days when I had a glamorous career. But what would that be saying?
A triumph from Child One or Child Two, maybe? But woe betide the mother who uses a picture of only ONE of her two children. I have enough trouble when I pick a snap to use as the wallpaper on my phone. Stick one of them out there on the internet without the other and there will be a world of pain in store for me, oh yes.
And also, though I’ve gone nearly-public, and my name is out there and associated with this blog in a few places (and anyone who really cared could easily link the two if they wanted – but why would they?) do I want pictures of my children displayed for all to see? I’ve banned the little dears from using their own photos on Facebook, on the grounds that they are too visible. Child One has remonstrated that most of her chums have pictures of themselves proudly displayed in bikinis. Exactly, I say, e-x-a-c-t-l-y. But can I then turn round and say it’s okay for me to use their photos on my own blog?
I’ve even considered using my Christmas wreath picture, which I do love, as it shows the front door ajar and looks as though it’s beckoning you inside. We love this house and are very happy here, and I think the red of the berries sets off the F & B paint really well (okay then, I admit I had to get the door repainted after I did it myself in a burst of wild enthusiasm in the summer. In fact, the decorators had to burn off my chunky coats of paint and chuntered for days about ‘cowboys’. I wasn’t brave enough to admit it was me and that I don’t even own a stetson). Best of all, the door gets over the whole problemmatic issue of ego, as – so far – it is the only thing in the house that hasn’t thrown a million hissy fits since we moved in.
But in the end, after much deliberation, I’ve chosen a picture of my girls. I’m so proud of them and they are so lovely, it would seem wrong not to celebrate them. And every photo with them in it is my favourite photo. So I’ve chosen the two of them when they were lickle bitty things, and cute as buttons. Yes, it’s them (although sideways – does anyone know how to get things straight?) but from years and years ago, so not really identifiable, except to those who know them. It was taken on the lawn of our then brand new house, in Brussels, just after we moved in. The lawn, though it looks green and lush, had actually been unrolled like a carpet the day before we arrived, and the girls loved to lift it up by handfuls, so that’s why they are stationed on the ancient old car rug, with a softer one snuggling round them. Child One was two and half, and Child Two nine months old. They weren’t at all used to being left, even for a second, and had burst into tears as I sprinted into the house to take the picture. They broke out in smiles when I waved to them out of the big picture window. Seconds after the picture was taken, someone had pushed someone else over, and World War III broke out – not for the first time. But their sunny smiles in this snap were so beautiful, and seemed to herald the beginning of a big adventure.
How big the adventure was, I didn’t know at the time – but it’s not over yet.
Part of the meme is to pass the baton – which I shall do to: