I just found out in the nick of time that BTS stands for behind the scenes. Clever for my title, right? Okay, I have to divulge my source here. My youngest clued me into this BTS thing.

But enough about abbreviations, every time you receive a holiday card with a perfect photo, I bet you secretly want to know the story behind it. Take ours. It makes you think we have it all together–the professional photographer catching the perfect pose and us with the color-coordinated outfits as if we all happen to be hanging out in the backyard.

We lined up a professional photographer this year, by chance. The last time we did that was five years ago, but I had gone so far as to reach out to her and inquire about getting our photo taken this year. I wanted to capture my daughters at this junction of 12th and 8th grades–already, we’re not the same people we were back in October when we posed for these pictures, and I wanted to celebrate conquering cancer. Oh, and Alex turned 50 this year and we still haven’t acknowledged that.

I explained the whole cancer thing and the hair grow-in (Alex tells me I don’t need to tell everyone I meet that I had cancer, oh, but I do love to talk about it).

She got back to me saying how sorry she was (about my cancer, of course); she had no idea and then proposed a series of dates.

I freaked out–like we had time for a photoshoot. It was another one of those what-was-I-thinking moments, so I chalked it up to a dumb idea.

Skylar was applying to colleges and Alexandra to high schools. There were deadlines, and essays, on top of insane school schedules with everything being the last of…and stress building up inside of me like you wouldn’t believe.

And then Skylar came home from school saying she needed her senior portrait for her yearbook in two weeks.

Way to give me notice! So I found the lost email thread with the photographer and asked her if she could do a rush job, like “This Sunday!”

The problem wasn’t setting up the time and date. What were we to wear? I hadn’t problem solved of this magnitude for an entire year. And with two teenagers, who have extreme opinions of what’s fashionable, all we could decide on was black and white.

No offense, black and white was not my idea for my celebration photos! I sucked it up, though. I didn’t even have time to complain, but what about my gold pants?

I think of every minute of struggle that got us to this moment where we look so carefree–could life be any easier?

Maybe it’s indicative of where we’re going (as if we have any idea where that is!), but it by no means tells you where we’ve been.

So after we got all the photos out of the way, I asked if I could change into my gold pants. And that would mean Alex would wear his tiger suit.

We wore them for my 50th when we partied Mamma Mia style the September before Covid hit. And I wore those gold pants again on the last day of hardcore chemo.

Except, I got toxic water stains on them, so I threw that pair out and splurged another $15 to have them again.

I hadn’t even worn the new pair yet. I had the gold paints and nowhere to celebrate.

So once I changed, I got the idea that we had to throw my chemo beanies in the air. I didn’t buy all those beanies not to use them either.

Now, this is more my style.

We may have lost our beanies, but we made it through with our joy intact!

May every day be as joyful as a picture-perfect holiday card!