Tension settled into my shoulders as I struggled to arrange a Pinterest-worthy backdrop. Getting on my hands and knees, I reached beneath the branches and grabbed the Christmas tree stand, yanking that fully decorated spruce toward me, inch by inch. 

Pushing myself to an upright position, I stood back and looked at my display. Perfectly decorated mantle: check. Little Santa Claus on the hearth: check. And now, thanks to some adjustments, the brightly lit Christmas tree would also fit in the frame. 

I breathed in deeply and adjusted the settings on my Nikon. It was time.

I opened the door to the playroom and told my girls it was time to get dressed for pictures. Protesting ensued as they were right in the middle of an intense round of playing princess dress-up. I assured them it would be really quick, but we needed to get some nice pictures.

Reluctantly, they shed their frilly pink dresses and I helped them put on their matching denim overalls. I designed them myself and sewed matching patches and Christmas ribbon on them. I had big dreams for that year’s Christmas card.

I walked the girls into the living room and explained that I wanted them to quietly sit on the fireplace hearth and smile while Mommy took a few pictures. My 3-year-old immediately flashed her cheesiest fake smile and the toddler enthusiastically squeezed her eyes shut. 

“Do a real smile, please.”

“No, not like that.”

“Open your eyes.”

“Please cooperate and look at the camera!”

After two or three minutes of forced “cheeses,” my girls were completely done. I’d pushed them past their limit and there was no turning back. 

I have a vision in my head of what I wanted these pictures to look like. But in every shot, someone was looking away, touching the other one’s face, or messing with Santa’s beard. And the worst part was that no matter how I adjusted the settings, the flash caused some serious red-eye. Instead of resembling angelic little cherubs, they appeared to be possessed, which is not an ideal look for Christmas cards. 

I lost all my patience, and before I knew it frustration and exasperation replaced any trace of holiday joy. At least one child was in tears, and I was very close myself.

Why couldn’t they just sit still?? Why was this so difficult? How did other people manage to have these amazing photos of their kids? 

In a desperate last attempt, I handed my toddler a big ornament to hold, hoping it would distract her. It did, briefly, yet her eyes and nose remained red from crying. And that was the end of the 2008 Christmas Card Photoshoot.

Looking back on that memory makes my stomach turn a bit, even though its 15 years later. I’m not sure who I was trying to impress, because anyone getting a Christmas card already knew what my kids looked like, including their actual real smiles. And honestly, look at these photos and tell me these babies weren’t the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen, even with red eyes and silly smiles. 

I kind of want to kick my younger self in the kneecaps. 

I just remember how often I was consumed with the “perfect” everything. I think I must have equated perfection with my performance as a mother. If things didn’t go as planned despite my best efforts, I felt like it was a failure on my part. I’d give anything to go back and have a heart to heart with myself.

But dwelling on past regrets won’t change the past. We can’t continue to punish ourselves for what we didn’t know or hadn’t learned yet. God’s grace covers it all, including my bad attitude and envy of the Stock Photo Family on the Shutterfly website. 

I’m still learning what it looks like to let go of perfectionism, and my struggle with idealism continues to ebb and flow. 

But this year’s reality is that it’s currently November 11th and I don’t have a single plan or idea for family Christmas card photos, so we might have to use a random picture we took after church one day back in March.

I think I’m making progress.