Google Photos is mad at me. I hoard photos. I don't mean to. It just happens. I take a ton of photos and videos while babysitting. then I post them to a FB group for my families. Of course, I also take photos of my own children, or piles of laundry to share with all of you. It's riveting stuff, making it hard to part with . . .. or more accurately: the delete photos task is just not on my radar. This has gone on for years. Now the photos and videos are making my Google Photos bust at the seam.
The other night, I was up way too late because I was begging Google Photos to upload a photo of me at the volleyball game in my cute outfit. I bit the bullet and promised Google I would delete stuff if it would please agree to upload one lousy photo.
We shook on it.
I started towards the beginning of my Google Photos relationship. Like 2012. I stumbled on some gems, my friends. Gems, I tell you.
I discovered that my children enjoyed playing with my phone when I was out for a walk, or in the shower, or wherever. I was UNAWARE that they were playing with my video function. Back then, I barely understood how to use my phone so I never noticed these video treasures. My current phone has a better camera, meaning these are grainy at best, but take a gander if you have a minute. We found it incredibly entertaining, but maybe that's because we recognize the goofballs featured. This might only apply to someone who has 'a mother's love' for them. Have I ever mentioned that the youngest four used to call themselves the Fabulous Four? They held meetings and made plans, etc.
Note Mini scolding Curly because her girl always had to be perfect. Not sure what the Humane Society thing is, but they enjoyed pretending. Reg's sneeze gives the spying boys away. The girls don't seem to mind. Hello, who doesn't mind being the center of attention?
The fun continues with Reg as Max. Still not his real name. Tank shows himself here for a split second. None of us remember his cheeks being quite that chubby. This makes me wonder if this was the beginning of the sock obsession that Reg has? I don't remember him trying to pay me back, or being aware of how much they cost. My dad took us to a special dinner for alums after the game. A meal out? You know my children will be impressed with that. Note the cooler in the kitchen when Reg pans the room in his shaky way. Guessing we got back late from the game. Or, that was just how we lived back then, because now we are just as neat and tidy as they come.