I should have listened to my gut telling me to let it go. “It’s not important in the bigger picture,” it said. “What he wears on picture day should be a reflection of who he is today.” “But no”, my brain rationalized, “Remember that god-awful flower print shirt I wore on picture day in 1^st grade? And think of GirlyBoyPapa’s 1^st grade picture!” I cringed. “When he’s a teenager, a 20-something, a father showing his own kids his school pictures someday… he needs to have a picture that he can show with pride.” 

What I neglected to factor into this rationalization is that maybe, just maybe, he is proud of who is today and will remember that feeling when he’s a teenager, a 20-something, and a father showing his own kids his school pictures someday...

In August, we attended a family member’s wedding. For this outdoors event, I bought the boys both matching blue plaid shorts and button-down, oxford style, light blue linen shirts. They were dressy but casual—perfect for a wedding. GirlyBoy wore the outfit without any protestations on his part. He was a marvelous sport about the whole deal, probably because he has always fancied wearing matching outfits with his brother, regardless of which gender they belonged to. He had fun that day: he danced, ran around, laughed, and played. There was absolutely zero focus on his clothing, though, which is quite unlike him. The fact that he wore a pair of shorts when he had not worn them without a fight in over 4 years was also significant. When the event was over, I knew that would probably be the last time we’d ever see it on him, except maybe picture day.

In early September, we received an announcement in the weekly newsletter that picture day was coming up. They offered tips and hints about what kind of attire works best in portraits: avoid prints and white solid shirts and lots of accessories, and choose a color that compliments the child’s eyes. “No problem,” I thought. “We have that wonderful blue linen shirt from the wedding!”

My thinking went like this: it’s a nice shirt and it’s plain enough that it doesn’t distract. Plus, we can get one more use out of it before it’s thrown back on the heap of boy clothes that he’ll never wear. As accepting and proud and ok as I am with how GirlyBoy expresses himself in the day to day, for some reason, I was determined to have him wear this shirt on this day. At the time, I believed that I was doing him a favor. I was “saving him from himself” and years and years of embarrassment, and “mom, how could you LET me wear that!”s. Admittedly I did stop to question what my motive was, but in all honesty, by forcing him to do this one gender-conforming act, I thought I was preserving his future pride. Silly me.

On picture day, GirlyBoy wore the blue shirt (bless his heart). He did not protest at all, but he did take a change of shirt so that after he was done, he could be “himself” again. When he came home, I drilled him “How did it go? Did you smile nicely? Did you wear your headband?” My interrogation was met with utter aloofness. It was clear he wanted this behind him and was not interested at all in engaging with his mother in an in-depth, protracted discussion about it.

Weeks passed and I waited patiently for the proofs to arrive. Then one day, they did. Much to my astonishment, I beheld an image of a bright, smiling, happy, proud child….wearing a fucking purple t-shirt with a dove and peace sign on it! And a headband!

I was beside myself with fury. It was a good thing the office was already closed by the time I saw them, because they would have had my wrath to deal with.

Next day, though, bright and early and well before school even started, I paid a visit to the school office demanding an explanation. I finally got one, and I’ll be goddamned if it wasn’t totally reasonable. Apparently, on the original picture day—the day he wore his blue shirt—the photographer was having problems with lighting. The pictures turned out like crap, so she came back –UNANNOUNCED– a few days later and retook some of them. To my great relief, the actual picture make-up day was still a week away and we had another opportunity to send him to school in that blue shirt (which, by the way, was lost in the bowels of God-Knows-Where) and have a do-over.

But damn if those weren’t the cutest pictures of him… even if he WAS wearing a purple t-shirt and a headband.

Picture retake day arrived, and after turning the house upside-down to locate the now-renamed MotherFuckingBlue shirt, we sent him on his way again, with reminders of “smile big!” and “show your teeth!”

Yesterday, the proofs arrived in email and we finally got to see GirlyBoy in all his glory in the MotherFuckingBlue shirt. I was deflated. These pictures were a very different set than the others. In these pictures sat a boy with a forced smile, a child who looked uncomfortable, even miserable. It was not our child. There was no sparkle, no glow.

Going back to the first set of “mistake” pictures, GirlyBoy positively radiated. Every picture showed a huge grin, lots of teeth. Happiness. Pride. Self-expression. Purpleness.

GirlyBoyPapa shared with me exactly what I was thinking: the second set is ok, but who is that kid anyway? Not ours!

So it was decided that we would let GirlyBoy choose the picture we would order from. We knew what we wanted: a picture of our child; but it was important for us to have complete and total release from accountability for what will be a keepsake he holds with him his whole life. In the end, it is no surprise that he chose a picture of himself, beaming with pride, wearing a headband and purple shirt.

So, if he ever dishes the “Mom! How could you let me get my picture taken wearing THAT!” line, I will redirect him to this very blog post and say, “Because we love you and trusted that you knew what was right for you.”