My new friend C was my first fellow-photographer client. It's both exciting and nerve-wracking to enter the home of another professional to record their life as you see it. Would she be judging the way I focus? The way I meter?
In a weird way, I suspect it was a glimpse into how most clients feel when I enter their home for the first time -- exposed, and uncertain of whether it's ok to truly relax and be yourself.
Immediately, I was swept into the rhythm of their afternoon. C and I chatted while she held the baby in her arms, and before we knew it, the big kids were tearing through the house, home from the pool and bouncing off the walls -- literally.
Perhaps more than any other sessions, I cherish the ones in which the family allows me to witness their quiet, ordinary everyday. They worked a puzzle. Made smoothies. Fed the guinea pig. Went to Tae Kwon Do class. This is what summer afternoons look like.
And yet. As photographers and mothers of young children, C and I both occasionally yearn for a separate set of our eyes on even the most ordinary days of our lives, so that we can stop being torn between recording what's happening and experiencing it for ourselves. So that someday in the family record books, we can prove that we were there, too.
After dinner and outdoor time was a bath, which surrounded Baby Z in a tangle of loving arms and legs. Next up? The all-consuming bedtime routine, which is as sweet and tender as it is reminiscent of whack-a-mole in every multi-child household I've ever visited. As soon as one was in bed and calm, another came bounding in with a mischievous grin and a tickle-fight in mind.
But mama C? She was cool as a cucumber, with a warm smile and a tender touch for every wild kid antic and needy tug.
This is familyness at its best, y'all.
