The Shoot

One year ago, life was very different. My grandfather was still alive and I was talking to him almost daily. I was working at FactSet in Content Quality and had pretty much given up on finding another job. But, by far the most profound difference was that we only had one child. Now we have three.

As we do every fall, last fall we did a photo shoot. Unsurprisingly, G engaged in her favorite past-time of doing the exact opposite of what someone trying to take a picture was asking her to do. Eventually, we got her on track. We took beautiful photos with beautiful naturally filtered light in beautiful early September. That was then.

This is now. Now, we have three kids. We still have G and her aforementioned past-time, but we also have twin babies. Twin boy babies. Twin boy babies who crawl. Twin boy babies who crawl to instinctively put in their mouths the last thing you want them to put in their mouths. I would take herding cats any day.

That said, in relative terms, we're old hats by now. We have done family photos a whopping three times since the twins were born in November. Deep down, we know they will be chaos. That actually attaining the holy grail of getting everyone to look at the camera without crying is like searching for El Dorado. Yet, we continue the quest.

So, it's fall. We need a holiday card. We didn't do one last year because the twins were born in November and the last thing we needed to worry about was a holiday card. To be honest, we were both kinda "eh" about the idea of doing it this year, but in the end decided it was the right thing to do. We tried to book a session with the photog we used last year - who is AWESOME - but she was booked. As such, we fell back on someone who, through relentless posting and bossy micro-management of a local information group on Facebook, fancies herself a bit of a Wilton celebrity.

Since we have the twins, she recommended we book two 20 minute sessions. It's better to do that when you have babies, she said. So, we did our duty and paid her double. The day of the shoot arrives and we derive a plan. The shoot is at 3:45, so we will put the boys down at 1:00. They will sleep until 3:00, at which time we will get them up, shove bottles in their mouths, change and dress them, throw them in the car - not quite literally - and make our way to the shoot. Bing. Bang. Boom.

Except...

M rolled around in his crib, vacillating between crying and shouting for joy, until 2:30. S woke up at 2:50 and, insodoing, woke M. No problem, at least the timing works. But, M slept for 20 minutes. He's high maintenance and fearful of changes to his routine on a full nap. I just had this nagging suspicion that his full tantrum payload was going to be executed mid-shoot. I was wrong. It was actually executed at the beginning of the shoot, but I will get to that.

We arrive and are greeted by a buffoon working with - read "for" - the photographer. The buffoon is goo-goo-gagaing S, who is fairly unimpressed. "Ohhhhh, he looks just like his daddy!" she said. I know the photographer - I'll refer to her as "Bossy" - who contradicted the buffoon by saying M looked like me. I said "Oh, <> said the S did." "Well, she's an idiot," Bossy said. Hmm...I wonder why she has to get a new helper every year.

At this point, the LePages are handled like Ralphie was by Santa's elves in "A Christmas Story".

"OK, sit there. No, not like that. R, look... look at... look over there. Good. Matt, move in... move... move in closer. G. G. G! Look at me. Look at me. Look at me! <>, do something and get her to look at me! OK, " orders Bossy.

M is still OK because R is holding him. G decides to engage in her past-time and runs off to the other side of the field and is singing "5 Little Pumpkins". I chase after her because we want to take pictures of her with the boys. Cue M's meldown...now.

There is nothing we can do to calm him down. We play Peekaboo, we sing, we dance, we make faces. Nothing. Unless R is holding him, we are at the receiving end of his opprobrium. Ironically, G took the best pictures she's ever taken. S looked angelic. M looked apoplectic. At several points, he was so worked up that he fell back into the leaves and I'm sure the photos will show G, S, and the bottoms of two little baby feet where M should be sitting. We all laughed hysterically. It was hysterically funny. It was also a lot of fun.

This is who we are. G is running into another zip code, M is melting down, S is eating wood chips, and we're marveling at seeing them all grow up their own unique way. We will have crazy-ass photos and I'm sure we'll hate all of them, but we will also have the memories of a cool October afternoon where we once again tried to take a decent photo.

Maybe one or two decent photos will come out of it. And maybe one will even make its way to the piano in the living room. But, we'll be telling stories about M's October photo-shoot meltdown to everyone from his friends to his fiancee. We'll reminisce about G chasing after random dogs and trying to get into a winter garden. We'll remember S sitting by himself eating wood chips while we tried to bring the other two back to Earth. Those are our mementos, not staged autumnal portraits.

The Gratitude Gap

Good news. It's really easy to be happy. Apparently, there is a positive correlation between how grateful you are and how happy you are. Actually, it's more than a correlation. Scientists are pretty sure the two are inter-related - symbiotic, even.

I was blown away by this. Because I have also heard someone say recently that "[h]appiness is like an orgasm. If you're thinking too much about it, you're gonna lose it." I completely agree with this. The more you dwell on the need to be happy, the more you're actually dwelling on how unhappy you perceive yourself to be. So, could it mean that if I'm unhappy, all I have to do is replace all the inward-looking soul searching I'm doing to find happiness with just being outwardly grateful? Seems logical.

This begs the question, though: why are so many people unhappy? Is it because they are ungrateful? I definitely think so. And I think social media plays a big part. Why? Because of something I call the "Transitive Property of Social Media".

Remember the transitive property in math class? Put simply, if A = B and B = C, then A = C. This same logic applies to a lot of people's use of social media. I've noticed since I've been on Facebook that the more time goes on, the more prolific posting there is. In some cases, it surpasses prolific and is just downright compulsive. I think of pictures of impressive main courses at a restaurant - guilty - or status updates of your  to do list. I think it's great that you want to share every facet of your life. I do. I'm glad you feel emboldened enough to let everybody so deep into your personal life.

But, there is a caveat. Just like there isn't always 24 hours worth of news to feed the insatiable 24 hour news cycle, there isn't always awesome stuff happening to people, at least not enough for them to sustain their compulsive posting. So, little things become big things. "I went to make a pot of French Roast, but I bought Breakfast Blend instead. #FML" There, there. Take a deep breath. This, too, will pass.

We lose perspective. We sweat the small stuff. We lose gratitude. More social media yields more compulsive posting, which yields more perspective-lacking posts full of unwarranted self-pity, which diminishes gratitude. There is the transitive property of social media.

And, based on the rationale above - positive correlation between gratitude and happiness - as gratitude diminishes, so does happiness. FML. First world problems. Non-issues, bumps in the road, that we choose to dwell on.

We have lost the ability to appreciate  the "givens": health, job, family, etc. I am 100% guilty. But, these "givens" are actually miracles. Just ask anyone missing any one of them.

As I have implied throughout, I have no pretensions of having any answers, for I am a newbie myself. But, I know that I have to let gratitude in.

I have to open myself up to it and let myself be truly grateful. And when you open up, you feel it gush in. You feel it in your stomach. A warm, fuzzy feeling. You smile.

It mixes with love as you feel it filling you up. You don't want to lose this feeling, so you starting asking yourself what you're truly grateful for. At this point, you're ready.

I see a center-hall colonial, nestled in trees with orange leaves, basking in the late afternoon sun. It has a homey, musty smell with creaky floorboards and thump, thump, thumping of little feet.

I see myself ensconced in a Connecticut forest that smells of wet growth in the summertime and cold ash smoke in the wintertime.

I see a family network whose tight stitching catches me when I fall.

But, what I see - and feel - most clearly are hands. A woman's hands and little three-year-old hands and little ten-month-old hands taking mine. Establishing a connection, their touch filling me with love. I just love those hands.

It's a miracle I am where I am. It's a miracle I have what I have.

I don't need to think, grope, or search. I just need to recognize.