I've been thinking a lot lately about how easy it is to always be waiting for the next thing.
When the kids are back in school.
When the baby is sleeping through the night.
When the house is picked up.
When the manual labor wraps up.
When the bookings fill.
When life feels a little more settled.
I've caught myself doing it in my own life, too.
The studio is still being built, and I am very excited about it. I can already picture what I want it to feel like, and I'm constantly thinking about the things I want to do there. But right now, it's still a construction project.
Founding Mothers is still growing. I have women who have joined me, I've sent out the first letter, and I'm waiting to see what comes back from that. I'm not entirely sure yet what this is going to become, and I actually think that's part of the fun.
My kids are growing up, too.
And I think that's what has me thinking about this the most.
There is always a next stage of motherhood.
When they're babies, you're looking forward to them sitting up.
Then walking.
Then preschool.
Then kindergarten.
Then the first day of middle school seems to show up somehow.
And before you know it, you're looking at a teenager or a young adult and wondering where all those years went.
But somewhere along the way, I think we forget that the part we're living right now is worth remembering, too.
We get very good at documenting the big things.
Birthdays. New babies. First days of school. Holidays.
But what about the years in between?
What about the season when your children are old enough to have their own opinions but still want you around?
What about the year your daughter still reaches for your hand sometimes?
What about your son who is suddenly too big to carry but still leans against you when he's tired?
What about the family that doesn't look exactly the way it did five years ago and probably won't look the same five years from now?
I think those are the photographs I am becoming more interested in.
Not because they're perfect, but because they're temporary.
That is really what I love about photography.
I'm not interested in creating a picture that only looks beautiful on the day we take it. I want to create something that means more ten years from now because you can look at it and remember exactly who you all were.
I've been hearing this in some of the conversations I've had with the women joining Founding Mothers, too.
Some have older children and already know how quickly it goes.
Some want to bring their mom and their daughter together because they understand how special three generations can be.
Some want an extended family session because they know that getting everyone together is something you shouldn't assume will always be possible.
Some have experienced the loss of someone they love and know firsthand how much a photograph can mean after someone is gone.
And some are simply looking at their family right now and realizing, I want to remember this.
I think that's enough of a reason.
You don't have to be celebrating anything.
You don't have to have a perfectly coordinated family.
You don't have to wait until everyone is a little older, a little more cooperative, or life is a little less chaotic.
You can just be in the season you're in.
And maybe that's what I need to remind myself of, too.
The studio doesn't have to be finished for me to be excited about what's coming.
Founding Mothers doesn't have to be completely figured out for me to enjoy watching it take shape.
And my kids don't have to stop growing for me to appreciate who they are right now.
So, if you're in a season of motherhood where you're constantly thinking about what's next, I want to remind you to look around every once in a while.
This is your life, too.
Not just the life you're working toward.
And if you look around and realize you'd really like to have photographs of this particular version of your family, I'd love to make them for you.
I still have some September openings, and you don't have to wait for the studio to be finished.
Maybe we don't need to wait for the next season after all.
Maybe this one is worth remembering.
