I’ve been a little sheepish over the number of pictures I’ve taken of Eliza since she was born. I have them separated into folders organized by week on the computer, and while I’ve probably deleted half of the ones I’ve taken, I still have hundreds. Probably closer to a thousand. Ridiculous. The funny thing is, she’s a baby. She only has a handful of tricks in the bag, so each picture looks almost exactly like at least fifty other pictures.
I started to wonder why I have this itch to capture her doing the exact same things every week. There are certainly moments where something new happens (like when she discovered her hands last week…hasn’t stopped staring at them yet), but the majority are moments that have been well documented countless times before. And I think I’ve figured out what the reason is behind my obsessive documentation. Partially, it’s boredom. I get trigger happy. But mostly it’s a drive that’s less about capturing what she’s doing at this particular moment, and more about capturing how I feel about it, and about her. Yeah, I know that she’s held her head up hundreds of times while on her tummy, or cooed her vowel-consonant combo numerous times, and I know she does her hilarious stretch-and-fart wake-up routine every time she awakens from a nap…but this rush of pride, joy, and affection overwhelms me every time and I have to grab hold of it, somehow. The camera is one way of doing that. This post is another.
Yeah, so that’s all. That’s just what I’ve figured out while taking the last hundred pictures or so. (Ridiculous. Just ridiculous.)