I also consented to being one of the "faces" of the walk, meaning I would take part in a photo shoot for some promotional pieces. We were supposed to bring our family to be a part of it. We were to arrive at 12:30 so I could get made up and the photo shoot was to start at 1.
Here is a little rundown of the day.
9:30: I remind the kids about the photo shoot. The Lady doth protest.
10:15: I finally get in the shower.
10:30: I, (for the first time, even though I have known about this for weeks) look in the kids closet for clothes. I mean the Ladies have a ton of pink. QT, not so much, but he can wear black. The only problem is he has no black. Not a super popular color in the toddler set.
11:00: The Little Lady is fully dressed, the Lady is refusing to go. I put on my one pink tank top and throw over a basic black cardigan. My husband has a closet of perfectly pink shirts and looks totally put together as usual.
11:30: The Lady gets dressed. Some hair gets brushed. I cry a little because nobody is listening.
11:50: We leave the house for the photo shoot that is about 20 minutes away.
12:05: We stop for a pink and black shirt for QT. I also pick up two pink shirts for the Ladies.
12:30: We are right on time.
1:00: I get in the makeup chair. The kids keep themselves occupied with bagels and iPads.
1:15: The Ladies come over to check out the face paint.
1:30: The Little Lady gets in the makeup chair. The makeup artist (who was wonderful and did a great job) put some lipstick on her.
1:32: The Little Lady pouts because all she got was lipstick.
1:35: The very nice makeup artist brushes the Little Lady's hair (with a brush with actual bristles and not from the maternity ward at the hospital), and then gives her a little hairspray and brushes a makeup brush across her face. The Little Lady is ecstatic.
1:52: I check my phone and let my husband know what time it is. It is a fine line people before things start to quickly crumble. He and I are acutely aware of it.
2:05: I get my lipstick on. We dust the dirt of QT's new black shirt (you can't expect a 2-year-old NOT to roll around a little in an empty storefront/temporary photo studio).
2:15: We are smiling, well four out of five of us are.
2:25: The kids are done. I hope there is at least one good shot of all of us. I am ready for my close up.
2:30: The photographer calls me out on my fake smile. I know. I know.
2:45: That's a wrap people.
The kids are looking for fruit snacks in the diaper bag and as usual we have to pack up a ton of stuff that seemed to multiply once we walked into the door, but the kids had yet to meltdown.
I could see them from where I stood in front of the backdrop, sweating under the lighting, the three of them tracing raindrops with their fingers down the large, storefront glass and at that moment, I wished my kids weren't in that room.
Not because they behaved badly, not because they filled me with a ton of anxiety about how they might behave, but because three kids under seven shouldn't have a mom with cancer.
But here we were and I am proud of them, proud of their pouts and frowns, their dirty shirts and messy hair. Proud that I get to be a part of their lives and proud that they stood with me today.
I also know that I will wait another year before I hire a professional photographer to take any family photos of my kids. I am not paying a ton of money for one kid pouting, one kid over posing and one kid looking away. Looks like candids on next years Christmas cards!