Why I Will Ask You to Take Photos of Me with My Kids

Yes, damn right, I won’t be erased from memories.

I watched with gleaming joy as my son had the best time trampolining with his dad. My pregnant belly stopped me from joining in, so I was the one holding the drinks and playing the role of photographer.

I normally love this kind of stuff. But today was different because I couldn’t jump with them. It dawned on me that with the baby on the way, I probably wouldn’t be able to join in on a lot of the family fun, or that my husband and I would have to take turns looking after the baby while the other ventured on with Andriel.

I quickly realized that my husband’s natural ability to muster up the energy from thin air will put him at an advantage over me to entertain Andriel in a more physical and active way once the baby is here.

I started to feel as if this first-time occurrence — of having to hang back from the fun with the duty of holding the drinks, the bags, the shoes, and ensuring I take as many photos and videos of an event, was going to be the start of the new norm, at least until the baby was old enough to join in too.

The memories that I was going to be in charge of capturing were going to inevitably take me out of the scene. Suddenly, I felt left out. I felt major FOMO. I wanted it all — the fun with the whole family together, and the precious moments with each one individually.

I Take Lots of Selfies and You Should Too

As mothers, we prioritize snapping moments of our babies playing, interacting with other babies, and making sure we get every emotion on camera so that we don’t forget about them.

As mothers, we are also often left with the job of ensuring we prioritize the taking of photos of our babies with people that we don’t see so often. Because we don’t always know when we will see them again and thus, those memories are worth more.

But, as the mother, I have been overlooked at events when others have taken pictures of my son. I guess people assume that since I am always with him, that plenty of shots have been taken of us together.

On many occasions, pictures have been snapped of my toddler — sitting on my lap, sleeping in the carrier I was wearing, or laughing and playing with me.

But the shot is zoomed in on him, and I have been cut out, except for a piece of clothing or body part that proves I was part of the scene.

Some lovely pictures have however been taken of us, namely by my husband because he understands my point exactly. The bulk of them, however, are selfies.

I once even paid a professional photographer to do a short photo session of just Andriel and me.

But when my child turns 30 and is looking through those wonderful memories, who will he want to see himself with?

I know I wish I had more photos with my parents. It doesn’t help that my mother is shy in front of the camera. But we have some golden pictures of us that I will treasure forever. I want my son to be able to do the same.

Some may think this seems egotistic or narcissistic. But every mother has a tremendous amount of influence over the growth and development of a child. I feel this makes me entitled to be in some of the permanent memories of my kids.

I have also learned to accept coming across as a little self-centered when I have asked people I know to take a picture of Andriel and me. If that’s the cost to capturing some awesome memories of a mother with her son, so be it. Besides, who will say no?

I’ll also muster up the courage to ask strangers to take pictures of me and my kids when we are out alone. In my experience, strangers are always happy to oblige.

I Will Also Treasure Being in the Sidelines

My healthy amount of jealousy as I watched my two favorite men in my life bouncing around fed me a new angle to see life from, however.

I got to witness other parts of the day that I wouldn’t have otherwise seen if I had been bouncing too. I got to see the full extent of my son’s laughter, running up and down the different trampolines. I got to see Devonte’s beaming love as he watched his son having a blast.

If I had been involved in the jumping, I would have probably seen most of it too, of course, but from a less aware perspective. I would've been focusing on my own fun bouncing, too.

I suddenly welcomed this little bit of peace amongst the chaos that was the trampolining place for kids.

This is what happiness feels like, I thought to myself. Simply being aware of your surroundings, enjoying the most important people in your life having the time of their lives. This is what I live for, I thought. This is why being a mother is absolutely the best job in the world.

To be completely in the room, watching a play on stage from a VIP seat.

I can almost replay snippets of my son and his father wrestling in slow motion, their laughter echoing through the walls of my brain.

My little bit of worry and jealousy turned into a revelation. Suddenly, I no longer felt left out. Rather, it felt like I was meant to focus on witnessing the moment, for I am more often than not involved, unable to capture moments like these unless we stop and stage them in a selfie. Today I felt I was right where I belonged, on the sidelines, cherishing and taking in each second as I snapped the shots that not only do I hope will get printed and framed on a wall but that I will remember forever.

I realize I will more often be put on the sidelines to witness the fun rather than to be in it, and that’s OK. There will be plenty of opportunities for me to live through the fun with them, in the mud. If I have to ask a judging mother to take some pictures or hire a professional photographer, so be it, because it’s worth it.

Final Thoughts

As mums, we tend to think more of others than ourselves. So when we break that pattern and deliberately and unnaturally turn some of the attention onto us, we may feel a little selfish. We may feel as if others will judge us for going against the mother’s duty to focus principally on the family.

The role of being on the sidelines with the bags, the snacks, and the camera, is one that many mothers know all too well. For me, it was new, and I wanted to take the time to enjoy it this time. I am willing to assume this position so that now and again I get to simply witness moments from the VIP section of life, knowing there are still plenty of chances for me to live those moments with my children.

And, eventually, I will have to come to terms with the fact that my children will have a life of their own, and I won’t get to witness it all. Rather, I’ll be told of their milestones. I will have to accept that I won’t be an audience member. I’ll be fed information through second or third-hand sources as my children grow into adults and have families of their own.

I’ll look forward to being the special person people will want photos with when I’m old. But I’ll also invite the mother of the kids to join in.

So, for now, I’ll keep on taking selfies and shamelessly ask others to take pictures of us. I’ll happily watch from the sidelines and paint beautiful memories as the audience member.

Because as life goes on and my involvement changes, I will want to look back with joy at all the pictures that were captured of my kids, with and without me in them — and so will they.

Sylvia Emokpae, thinker and philosopher, is passionate about self-love and motherhood. See more work like this.

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