The REAL Christmas Picture

By now, our friends and family probably have received the 2007 Petrak Christmas card. The four children, in their festive red outfits and black dress shoes, look catalog-ready and perhaps even a bit cherubic huddled together in front of the backyard pine tree.

That’s just the picture. Here’s the real snapshot.

As anyone who has ever prepped their kids for a holiday portrait, whether it’s a quick digital shot in front of the fireplace or a formal sitting at a studio, can attest, it’s no small task. First, a theme must be determined (Summertime on the beach? Everyone in tartan plaid?) that may or may not hinge on the card itself. Perhaps you, like me, want to gear the location and color scheme of the photo around the card you picked out beforehand. Either way, you had to trek to the mall, in between school pick-up, drop-off and work around the home or office, to pick out matching-- or at least not-clashing – clothes that for the kids that look nice but don’t cost as much as, say, your entire holiday budget.

Then, somewhere between Halloween and December 15 (Not too early! Not too late!) you arrange to have the Christmas picture taken. If you are anything like us, there is a 30-minute process of getting ready, which usually entails some type of screeching and/or beseeching: “Why in God’s name are you wearing gym socks!” “No, I didn’t just take God’s name in vain. Well, yes I did and I’m sorry, but be quiet and get the right socks on!” “Is that ketchup on your pants? Really? Seriously?” “Don’t you want to wear a barrette? HoldstillholdstillholdstillHOLDSTILL!” and, always a second or two before you’re ready get in place, “Why didn’t you use the washroom BEFORE you got dressed?”
This year, we had all of that, and more. Let’s recap.

It’s the day after Thanksgiving, pretty nippy at 25 degrees or so. After the annual ordeal of getting presentable, we tromp out, jacketless, to the back yard when three-year-old Annie, heretofore in a good mood, announces, “No. I don’t want to take a picture.” I try a little cajoling. No dice. A little firmer cajoling. That sends her into a tizzy and she plops herself down in her brand spanking new red velvet dress in the cold, muddy ground, which immediately gets smudged right into her red velvet backside.

Okay, I say to myself, breathe. At least you won’t see her back in the picture.

My professional photographer sister, who does our portrait every year, is looking worried. This, despite the fact that she has taken pictures of children her whole career and knows that in the end you can get one good shot out of 52 tries, even with a mother desperately flailing her arms behind her in an attempt to get several sets of eyes fixed in the same spot and equal toothy smiles.

I soon see why my sister seems concerned. By now, Annie is furiously kicking her legs up and down on the ground. Her brothers try to calm her down, but two of them end up squabbling. “Leave her alone! Let Mom take care of her!” one rails. “I can calm her down if I want to!” retorts the other.

It seems, with such big tears rolling down Annie’s face (which now matches the red hue of her dress) that the outdoor picture is not a go. So we all head inside once I scoop up the wailing girl, tuck her under my arm and lug her through the back door

Annie relaxes after a few minutes and agrees to a few shots by the fireplace. But because I am so obsessed with having the evergreen branches from the pre-purchased greeting card match this year’s photo, we eventually return to the yard for a second go-round.

This time, I bring along some Christmas toys to keep my daughter occupied. It seems to work and we get that great shot of the boys surrounding her as she shakes my favorite Starbucks snow globe.

That’s right, my favorite Starbucks snow globe. The one that 10 minutes after we finish the photo session she drops on the hardwood floor. “Whoopsie-daisy!” she exclaims, wearing that same bemused smile you see in the picture.

That bemused smile does not match my own. “NOBODY MOVE! NOBODY MOVE, DAMMIT! THERE IS GLASS HERE! DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT – I SAID ‘DAMMIT’ BECAUSE I DON’T WANT YOU TO GET HURT, O.K?” Of course, the children are all now barefoot and standing precariously near the shards of broken glass. Cleaning up that glass looks to be a challenge, too, since all of the snowglobe glitter-water is pooling around it.

Mike, at this point, pipes up from the TV room, where he has wisely tucked himself away for the last chaotic half hour after his role as Hair Gel Stylist was complete. “What’s going on in there? Geez, it’s just a Christmas card!”

So, now, picture this: Annie, crying because I am yelling. Kevin, starting to well up because he gave me that Starbucks snow globe for Christmas last year. Matt, approaching me and the pile of broken glass, ignoring my efforts to shoo him away. Jack, standing by the fireplace with eyes as wide as silver dollars, gaping as I grab a towel and broom and simultaneously bark at Matt to back away, try to console Kevin, wipe away my own tears and give my preschooler a grimace for starting all of this.

What a Kodak moment.

Three weeks after the pictures from that day were taken and one was chosen, downloaded, e-mailed to Walgreen’s, picked up, glued to the cards, slid into envelopes and dumped into a mailbox, I pick up an extra copy and look at it closely. In my mind’s eye, I remember the broken snow globe and think about the large sliver of glass that I discovered the next day, thankful that no one’s heel or toe found it first. I once again marvel how much work it is to pull together all things Christmas, whether it’s the cards, shopping, Christmas plays and parties or cooking and cleaning for December 25 itself.

As I gaze at that picture, though, I am struck by how beautiful our kids are, if I do say so myself. I notice how Kevin has laced his fingers protectively on his baby sister’s shoulder, how Jack wore an undershirt because he insisted “that’s what you do when you dress up,” how Matt has affectionately draped his arm around Jack without any prompting. I realize that my husband had combed their hair just right and made sure their shoes were nicely buffed. I am moved by my daughter’s enchanted expression as she swirls glittery flakes around an encased plastic tree and I am amazed by how much her curls resemble my late mother’s ringlets in photos of her at the same age. That, in turn, reminds me of how our small family has lost a cherished father, grandmother and aunt since last year’s Christmas portrait, underscoring the point that taking time to convey friendship and love is a worthwhile endeavor.

That same morning, I look up at the door where I have taped all of the holiday photos of our friends and family. I wonder if any of you had the same type of drama that we had in trying to get a good photo together. I doubt there were any broken snow globes or muddy dresses involved, since that seems to be our own special Petrak thing, but I’m sure every family experiences some level of stress setting up a holiday vignette, just as every mom or dad is likely to look at the finished image and mull over how fast the kids are growing.

Maybe next year, we’ll forgo all of the fanciness and do a more casual picture. But come November, I’ll probably be out searching for a quadruple set of off-white shirts and light denim jeans.

I’ll just be sure to hide all glass objects the next one. Except for the cocktail glasses that I will use for myself, my husband and my sister when it’s all over.

Again, the merriest of Christmases to you and yours. And may you have as many picture-perfect moments as you do hectic ones in the coming year!