Greg scanned all the pictures I wanted for posting on the Soap Opera Sundays. I had him scan an extra one because I felt I really must share. Now don't look down yet. I must explain.
I hate pictures of myself. All those I will be posting in the next little while are no exceptions. I honestly have looked at each one and thought, "I look so weird in this picture." Then I came to a very unfortunate conclusion. That's how I look.
Back in the post about my high school prom, I told you that I couldn't find my pictures from high school anywhere. Well, I found two mixed in with pictures of my post college days (I went to Ricks College and then lived in Provo with BYU students for a year, so they were mixed in with pictures from that year). I'll share one of them with you today.
First, though, you need to understand. I was a babysitter from age 10. I babysat maybe two nights a week from that age up (I really wonder how the Wardle's and the the Henson's are doing these days. I keep hoping one of their kids will end up in Poland on a mission and I'll bump into them at church one Sunday). My senior year of high school I babysat everyday for about 5 hours after school.
When I was getting ready to go to Ricks my mom showed me a major called Professional Preschool Education. It got you a specialized Associate degree (meaning little or no general ed-- I passed the AP tests in the three GE classes I would have had to take, so for me it was all Early Childhood Ed. all the time) that was meant to qualify you to run a preschool, as it gave experience in assisting, teaching, overseeing and managing. I took it. I loved it.
After that I went to Provo and got that job at Head Start that I've mentioned. After that I was a nanny. After that I was a mother's helper. After that I was a mother. Do you see the pattern? No? Oh. I always worked with children.
Not to brag, but I was great with kids. I loved watching them, playing with them, helping them be creative, teaching them, and even disciplining them. There was something about a behavioral challenge that I just loved. Figuring out how to show empathy and still teach the inappropriateness of their actions. Coming up with a suitable distraction or punishment or way to teach an important lesson. Speaking in a way that would command respect and admiration and obedience all at once. Okay, I'm getting way hung up on myself here. But I really loved it, and I think I was above average, which I'm only mentioning because... you'll see why.
I was patient. I don't remember ever feeling angry at any of those kids. I was a bundle of energy. People told me I was going to be an amazing mother. I hoped so.
Then I had my own kids. I was an unbelievably amazing mother when Evie was a baby. After that? Two kids? TOTALLY DIFFERENT STORY. All the things I had been? GONE.
That's why I thought it was so funny when I found this picture. This is from way back when I was babysitting after school my senior year of high school. It was one of my last days before I would leave for Ricks, and I took Anne (sister) along to take some shots of the girls. I think this one shot was totally a prophecy of things to come (as opposed to a prophecy of things that have already happened). It is a revelation of how I would feel once I had my own children. I certainly didn't feel it back then, no matter how much it looks like it. It was a trick of the blinking/posture/gaping mouth or something.
I think this was the day after prom or something, because my lips are dyed red and my fingernails are painted red (which you would see if you clicked on the picture. Which you won't). I don't do red, but I did for prom, with my black dress and shoes.
Besides the fact that I look 11 years old, don't I look like a forty year old mother of 12? I mean bedraggled-ness-wise? Like The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe?
* In case you want to see, I posted the other high school picture that I found of me and my friend and Chris and his friend after graduation. You can jump by clicking here.
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