lailah rose | 22 months

Lately, as I choose photos, I am called to those that contain more motion and emotion, rather than prettiness and perfection. Framing, exposure, color, light. I get it, they're all important. All are taken into account every time I hit the shutter. But motion, emotion, will always win.

Perhaps this is due in part to my experiences photographing Lailah. Her and I took one photo a week for a full year. After that, I slowed down to once a month, and long ago abandoned any thought of posing, perfection. Trying for perfection with a wild and willful toddler fell by the wayside, and not a moment too soon. I've never been a photographer bent on perfection in my images, but photographing Lailah has brought this philosophy to the forefront more than ever. Of course I will always strive to be better. Of course I will put my utmost care into every photograph I take. But ultimately, I'm in it for the substance. No more building moments, holding onto artifice. Instead, I'll strive to capture moments, foster moments, nurture them.

Deal? Deal.

Also, if you're getting married, and you want to take puddle-splashing photos, I'm your girl. 

lailah rose | 19 months

Often, I wonder what its like to have all those emotions, impulses coursing through your tiny body. No guidebook, no how-to’s, just a fresh burst of energy each morning, catapulting you into your day, filled with wonder and delight, frustration and sadness. Each new feeling floods your entire person. You are curiosity. You are frustration. You are pure joy. No façade, no deception, just unfiltered feelings.

You, my girl, experience things so honestly. You are the embodiment of raw, real emotion.

So here we are, my love, embroiled in toddlerhood, where it’s possible to feel as though my heart might burst with pride, love, joy, laughter one moment and an all consuming anger and frustration that leaves me feebly trembling in a corner the next. There are days I’m fully convinced that the men in white coats will find me here, huddled up in that corner, wearing my snack-stained armor, sporadically tossing pancakes in your general direction, because, at least pancakes keep you happy, one moment at a time.

Other days, I whole-heartedly believe that you and I could take on the world. Because why not? We are capable.

You’re not a baby anymore. You have opinions (on everything), ideas, thoughts, urges, needs, and more words than either you or I know what to do with.

Everyone told me that parenting was hard. They told me that it would be the biggest challenge, the greatest adventure of my adult life. It’ll take all you have. It’ll change you, shape you.

I don’t think we’re made to listen to such things. We’re not meant to quantify what it takes to raise a human in this world. It’s all too much. It can’t be put into words. Not properly, at least. I think we’re made to ignore everyone and do it anyway.

No one or one hundred people's words would have been adequate enough to prepare me for the gut-wrenching, world-flipping, heart-bursting journey that is… you.

So bring it on, toddlerhood. If we’ve accomplished this much in 19 months, think of how much more we could do, you could do in the next 19, 20, 90 years?