We were up in the canyon, all happily shooting the vibrant fall colors. I had my nice camera (that I just found in a box!), David had the little point-and-shoot, Chris had his phone, and Eddie borrowed the iPhone. After a few minutes, watching them all soak in the view and point out an especially beautiful spot, I wondered what we would do with these pictures. Keep them on the memory card, most likely. I knew I would share some on the blog here, but as I haven't found the camera cords, I wouldn't be able to get the pictures off the big camera. Anything I wanted to share would have to come from the phone.
And why would I want to share it, anyway? Usually we share pictures to show that we went somewhere, or to remind us of occasions. I love to look back and see my children happy. My favorite scenic shots are of the view... with my family in front. I'd rather have a picture that tells a story than a postcard-perfect vista. And then I remembered this article about mothers not being in the pictures. I had read it a few years ago, but now it was pushing to the top of my brain. I'm never in the pictures. I'm not. I'm always the one taking the pictures. And my kids may not remember that I was even there with them! I wish I had more picture of my mother, but she was so self-conscious of her appearance. Man, I miss her. Nope. Don't want to be the invisible mom.
So I grabbed the iPhone while Eddie was taking his turn with the binoculars, gulped, and took a picture of myself. Hate selfies, but it was a little bit more acceptable this time because this is the only way I could get a picture of Chris.
Look! Here I am! I went up the canyon with you, family! And so I'm going to spend the next week (gulp) taking pictures of us doing things, with me in them.