26 November 2008

The Richie Cunningham Syndrome

What's her name... you know, Mitchell and Amelia's mother?

I've just had a spare second to consider blogging, and noticed that my picture (up there, to the right) is way out of date. So after wondering for a moment why no-one from my vast and various readership has requested a new photo (maybe they all did at once and broke the internet), I went searching for a recent shot of my two kids and me.

Nothing. Not a sausage.

I am officially suffering from Richie Cunningham Syndrome. Once upon a time I was in front of the camera on a regular basis. I even made a habit of jumping in front of the cameras of complete strangers (the thrill of which has diminished since everyone except my mother-in-law bought a digital camera).

But now I am constantly behind the camera. I have a squillion photos of my kids, and none of me, because I'm the one pushing the button and yelling, "Mitchell, first I take the photo, then it appears in the viewing window!" And as a result, despite the fact that I feed them, cuddle them, get up at night to settle them, clothe them, take them to Playgroup and sing songs about everything in the world to them, as far as my photo files can tell anyone, I hardly exist.

Ron Howard! That's his name. Phew.

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