I could never. (But I just did).

Family sessions | Newborn Sessions | The Photo Fuel Podcast

On Tuesday afternoons at 5:15 I load the boys up for Gavin’s 30 minute swim lesson at the indoor pool nearby. Once he’s settled with his instructors, I walk Aaron back with me to the lobby where we sit and kill time till it’s over.

For the first few weeks, I brought picture books and snacks for Aaron and I read to him on the couch for the first half before wandering over to watch the basketball players. It was a perfectly quaint way to spend 25 minutes in a day.

But the last 2 weeks, I've packed his dinner in a little bento box, along with a wipe board with markers or a few hotwheels cars and here's the real gamble - a book for myself.

The first time I decided to boldly set myself up for some joy, my inner monolouge thought - there’s no way this is gonna happen. But it did. He sat in the little booth munching and people watching while I read my own book for a whole 15-20 minutes in peace.

I never thought this day would come.

When Aaron was about 9 months old, I started working with a mentor who I admire for not just her photography, but her approach to life and motherhood. I was in a pretty deep postpartum rut, trying to figure out how to parent 3 kids in drastically different developmental stages and keep a business running on 3 hour blocks of sleep. I needed her contagious joy as much as her photography coaching.

Rachel told me this story about how when she was in her early days of motherhood, she took her kids to the playground and witnessed this other mom pull up with her own brood. As those kids spread out to run around and climb and slide, this mom nonchalantly laid a blanket on the grass and settled in with a book.

The act seemed revolutionary to Rachel at the time and it was revolutionary to me, too - this seemingly plain defiance to the hovering.

The audacity to choose a moment of delight for oneself and the allowance of independence for children.

When I heard this, I thought - well that sounds nice. I could never.

At the time, I had a shy 8 year old who was getting bored with playgrounds, a slingshot 4 year old who would jump off the top of the tallest tower to see if he could fly if left to his own devices, and a baby who was attached to my boob. Rachel was encouraging. She told me to just hang on - that one day it wouldn't feel so physically demanding.

I wanted to believe her.

And I think about that story now and the summer ahead of us with the little fleck of hope that huh - maybe that world is not so far fetched after all.

It's funny how that memory of Rachel's - a mom on a blanket with her book - stayed with me for years like a photograph I never took. I only know about her because Rachel happened to look up that day and notice.

Now here I am, a decade later, still thinking about that woman I've never seen, in a park I've never been to, because somebody told me what it felt like to notice her in her element one day.

And I took that mental picture with me to a swim lesson in a windowless gym cafe and made a moment of peace from it.

I think mothers are often taking mental pictures of each other and holding them as permission slips. I am, at least. We catch each other in fragments and carry the pieces around without ever saying thank you. But it's nice to have some physical pictures of mothers in their element, too.

We are being noticed a lot, for better or worse, in everything we do. And for all the subconscious witnessing that happens and burdens we carry in the cracks of our days, when a woman decides to let her joy and her strength and her softness be seen on purpose - well, I’m all in for that.

I want it for you, and I want it for me, too.

I have a client who always books her family photos with me in May and tells me it's her Mothers Day gift to herself.

I have some gift certificates if you want to share the same gift with someone else or you can reach out and commit to being seen on purpose any time.

// new + noteworthy //

THINGS I SAVED THIS WEEK:
Being seen, indeed. Bravo Alessia Cara.
This is giving solid inspiration for a killer team brand photoshoot.
I have agreed to attend a mahjong lesson party in a few weeks and the algorithm has found me because of it.
This feature of a NY Times essay further supports my letter on aging a few years back and makes me less and less afraid of getting older. “I have seen men grow sullen and depressed in their old age. I have never known a woman who was sorry for herself.” - The original piece here if you're a subscriber.

A FLASHBACK READ: More juice about motherhood in this newsletter from July 2024 called The Moms of Summer.

TO BAKE: I made these blueberry oatmeal muffins this week and think they're divine. My big kids aren't fans but that's because they're snobs about baked goods. Still recommend.

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CREATIVITY | FAMILY | SIMPLE JOYS

On instagram @leahoconnell.photo

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