Existentialism: If we don't take family photos, do we cease to exist as a family?

I think a posting on the process of taking family portraits has become the most ubiquitous entry in all of the blogosphere, and yet I feel compelled to add my own take on this bizarre ritual. Last year I gave the family a reprieve from the process; I just couldn't dig up the energy to fight. So I thought it would be easier this year since a. everyone in the family is now officially past the stage where they need a regular nap; b. they all understand basic directions given in English; c. the scars from previous photography traumas are distant enough to be faded almost out of memory; and d. because I said so.

In the end, we all got through the experience in one piece (more or less) and even managed to come away with a decent group shot. (It only took 119 frames, but we got it.) But every time I walk past our photo wall, I find myself wanting to yell, "Liars! Look at you smiling there! You look like such a happy, loving family, but I was there, remember! NONE of you were happy that day! NONE of you were loving!" But I keep my ranting on the inside. I just move on and remind myself that outside of photo studios we are a pretty happy and functional family.

Ah, remember the days when family pictures meant dealing with just these two. I remember actually getting stressed, STRESSED about what on earth we could wear. Ha! Those were the days.

Then a couple years into this whole family experiment we picked up this guy. And somewhere around his 5th year, he decided he no longer knew how to smile naturally. We tried interventions and counseling to no avail. We're stuck with the forced and cheesy smile from now until puberty wipes all smiling from his repertoire completely.

Then this guy came along...our most photogenic experiment of the bunch. And he hit third grade and decided to be known as "the boy who never smiles." Look closely, there's something a little scary about his eyes.

This one looks like a kidnapping victim trying to communicate his distress without drawing attention from his captor. Doesn't his face just scream, "help me?" And that grimace, I mean, er... smile.

Well, at least she isn't crying.

So you see what we have to work with? Now let's get them all together shall we?

Oh dear.

Nice eyebrows, Noah.

If only we could bottle Zachary's enthusiasm and sell it.


This is disturbing on so many levels.


I fear this is the picture of the beginning of a subversive conspiracy.

Oh my.

It seems like I'm posting a lot of pictures, but I have at least 10 more that I could have included that I edited out. They're even more amusing when I zoom in for a close-up.

Oh well, let's try just the boys.

On second thought, where are the girls?


Did I mention that I have 119 frames?

Phew! I feel better just getting this all out in the open. Now you all know the real story behind our carefully composed wall art. I now feel more genuine in offering a glimpse of this:

Ahhh, thanks for letting me get that purged from my system; I feel so much more honest now. I think maybe we'll wait to do family pictures again for a while--maybe when Zachary gets married.