Saratoga News Family Daze Debbie Farmer How could anything be more exciting than baby pictures? The only thing that can clear a room faster than someone yelling "fire," is a mom waving a handful of freshly developed photographs. All Gen. MacArthur really needed to do to stop advancing enemy troops during World War II was to place a mother on the front line armed with 14 sets of slides and a projector. Since the first day my children were born, I loved recording every moment on film. "So what," I said to my husband, "if our son thinks my name is 'cheese' and can't look me straight in the eye without squinting. I am creating memories." I paused. "And gathering evidence for their years in psychotherapy." When I started sharing my memories with dinner guests, the mail carrier, trick-or-treaters and anyone else who came within 15 feet of my front door, my house became quieter than a ghost town. Solicitors, while passing my driveway, would break into a sprint and pretend they were on their daily jog. Even religious missionaries would shout their doctrine through a bullhorn from the car. "Why don't Bob and Betty come over anymore?" I asked my husband one day while barbecuing dinner and feeling lonely. "Nine rolls of baby's first bath," he said. "What about Frank and Karen?" "Eleven rolls of baby's first cold." "Rob and Sue?" "Two rolls of baby turning over, followed by four rolls of napping," he said. "The birth video finished them off." I wound a new role of film in my camera. "What are you saying?" "Our children are more photographed than Yosemite," he said. "And most people would rather climb El Capitan during a blizzard in their socks than sit through a roll of baby pictures." I shook my head in disbelief while I took a picture of my son asleep on the floor. The next morning I pasted more photographs into my children's albums. I cut fancy edges and used stencils between changing diapers and making meals. When I was finished I had a masterpiece of maternal devotion, a tribute of my unconditional love. I proudly showed my triumph to my husband when he came home from work. "That's great!" he shouted. "We could bring it to the company party next Saturday night, take it out about 10:45 and we'll be home by 11. Good thinking, hon!" I opened my labor of love and began leafing through the pages. So what, I thought, if people would rather wrestle man-eating lions with their bare hands than see my children's pictures. I thought my photographs--along with battery-operated swings and wrinkle-free clothing--were gifts from God to mothers. My photographs let me revisit my children taking their first steps, eating their first meal, or sleeping in their bassinets. Pictures are worth a thousand words; but, to a mother, they are priceless. You can contact Debbie Farmer by email at: debbie@ecis.com [ Back to Contents Page | Saratoga News Home Page | Archives ] This article appeared in the Saratoga News, November 18, 1998. ©1998 Metro Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved.