And It Continues

I continue to try to take a group shot of my boys.  I hope with each attempt that today will be the day.  The day a small miracle occurs and all three boys sit still, face the same direction and charm me with their good looks.  And my boys continue to make a mockery of my hopes. 

My oldest, the consummate people-pleaser, smiles relentlessly, as if to say, "Mama!  Look at me!  I'm listening and smiling and sitting still.  I really am your best kid, you know.  Just look at me."  He smiles without ceasing, ignoring the crying and whining from his brothers.  So there he sits, smiling until his face hurts, doing his best to make me happy, even if it results in a forced, tired smile.   I'm grateful for his effort.

My baby.  The one who refuses to sit still and also refuses to walk.  I place him on his bottom, tucked between his older brothers, and before I can take two shots he is on all fours, making a mad dash across the yard.  I chase him down, me on all fours as well, and calmly put him back in his spot.  We continue this game until he becomes a little ticked at me.  Hello, temper!  He screams.  And cries.  And lets his bottom lip drag the ground.  I plead with him to stop.  I kiss him, make him giggle and place him back in his spot.  Hello again, temper!  He screams so loud, his older brother soon finds it hard to maintain his smile and begins talking to him.  Like a ventriloquist. Never cracking that smile.  "Will, it's okay,  It's okay."  He holds his hand and attempts to comfort him.  Smiling the entire time.  It doesn't work.  The crying continues.

I refuse to give up.  I will persevere.  They will not win.  I will be patient.  And kind.  And sweet.  And they will remember just how much they love me and they will snap out of it.  They will become little child models, sitting still, smiling naturally and amazing me with their charm.

And then I hear it.  Gagging.  Like from your toes, gagging.  And there he is.  My middle child. Dry heaving.  On purpose.  Because he can't smile without blinking like his big brother.  And he can't crawl away and cry like his baby brother.  So what's one to do to completely drive Mama over the edge and bring a quick end to the photo shoot?  Make yourself throw up, of course.  Gag yourself until your eyes are running water and your face is blood red.  Continue to gag yourself.  Make loud noises.  Noises that sound like you are about to throw up everything you've eaten in your entire life.  Ignore your Mother when she sternly tells you to "Knock it off!" Actually make her question if you are, indeed, suddenly stricken with a terrible stomach bug by continuing to gag uncontrollably. Scare the *&%# out of your baby brother by making sounds he's never heard before.  And throw your germ-fearing older brother into a full blown panic attack by turning to him and heaving in his direction.  And when you see your Mom is defeated and you know she's given up, wipe the spit off your chin with your shirt sleeve, jump to your feet and run away as fast as you can, before she realizes that she has given birth to a child that will actually force himself to regurgitate in order to avoid having his picture made. 

And it continues.