Hard days

Some days at school seem to be harder than others. They come home and they are in weepy grouchy moods. And they have such a strange mother that my reaction is to point a camera at them.

When they were little they would sometimes pitch these horrid screaming tantrums. Nothing would get them out of it. I usually just dragged them to their room and let them scream it out, until they were willing to be civilized. But sometimes, for my own entertainment, I had to take pictures of them, red faced, tears streaming, mouths open as they vented a rage that only a two year old can feel.

These days it is much harder to get pictures of my children when they are upset. For one thing, they don't abandon themselves to their anger like they did when they were younger. Which is not to say that they do not get angry, but it is less of a blind fury and more directed anger with an actual cause. And for another, they simply don't like these types of pictures. When they're upset, hiding their face from me is an easy and petty rebellion with no consequences. I've managed to catch a few and when they look at them later, they don't like the photographs. I don't know if it's embarrassment or simply remembering being upset.

Either way, I'm sure they wish I would get over my compulsion to take pictures of these tragic moments in their lives. Like that's going to happen any time soon.