Picture Day
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Picture Day

It’s picture day.

For those of us who hate dressing up and having our hair done all pretty, picture day was a nightmare. My mother always used to make me wear ribbons on my ponytails (don’t ask) and one year, out of defiance, I took them off before pictures. I just wanted to look like everyone else, and not like an extra on the set of “Little House on the Prairie.” Needless to say, when the pictures came back, she was none too pleased.

In any event, back in the 80s, when my generation would get ready for picture day, there were no pleas on Teaneck shuls, “Looking for hairdresser and makeup person to come and fix up my daughter for pictures — will pay anything and will go anywhere and at anytime!!!!” Let’s look at those last few lines again and have some commentary.

1. There were no Teaneck shuls in the 80s. Whether that is good or bad is not up for discussion, it just wasn’t.

2. I am pretty sure that none of my friends had their hair or makeup done ever. Big hair was big in the 80s and it was very easy to do it yourself. The worse it looked, the better.

3. Makeup might be another story. I still don’t think any of my friends had their makeup done. What I do know is that blue eyeliner and blue mascara was very “in” back then. Enough said…

So fast forward to Picture Day 2018. I certainly hope that all of those young ladies looking for hair and makeup people bright and early in the morning were not disappointed. After all, pictures are forever. And you will be looking at your yearbook quite often over the next 30 years. You know, in between having babies, nursing, looking for the perfect nursery school, carpool, after-school activities….there is going to be LOTS of time for your yearbook, so make sure that picture is perfect.

Clearly I am discussing Picture Day for a reason. This whole year is going to be emotional for me. You might as well play the song “Sunrise Sunset” every time you read my column. My adorable little baby, my little cutie boy whose foot was as big as my thumb when he was born, is graduating from high school. I might be posting the following on Teaneck shuls: “Looking for a scientist to regrow my umbilical cord so my baby will be reattached to me so he won’t leave when he graduates.”

Too much? Perhaps, but I am trying to take this year as slowly as possible. If this means having him be late for davening every morning so I can just stare at him when he sleeps, then so be it. I am just not ready for this. At all. And today was his picture day. For his senior graduating pictures. In his suit. All dressed up. A far cry from when he was first born and I was looking at him and singing the “My Three Sons” theme song (which, of course, I did).

So he comes downstairs all dressed up, and off he goes to school, and I am standing at the door, flashing back to his first Picture Day and how he let me dress him up in a plaid shirt and pants with a vest. And then he let me comb his hair and he looked so adorable I just wanted to shmush his face off.

Of course, I wanted to do the same thing to him today, but I refrained. Sort of. After all, he still is my baby!

And today my baby took his senior pictures. There was no hair and makeup, there was no drama about his outfit not looking right or his hair being too frizzy — this being the joy of having boys. Watching him leave the house, all tall and handsome in his suit, with his whole future ahead of him and me looking at him getting into his car praying that his picture, and his life, turn out exactly the way he wants them to.

Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck is going to be going through many boxes of tissues this year. For both rational and irrational reasons….

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