
Not because the picture was perfect—but because it pulls you right back into that season of life. The house you lived in. The way the room felt. Who you were with. The memory attached to it.
Those are the kinds of photographs that matter most.
And that’s exactly why I believe so deeply in in-home sessions.

When I was growing up, we didn’t have professional photo sessions. We didn’t hire photographers. That just wasn’t really a thing back in the 1900s (the 1970s–1990s… to be a little more exact). What we had instead were everyday photos—mom or dad snapping a picture here and there. A sibling. A grandparent visiting. Regular life, unfolding as it was.
Those photos weren’t glamorous or Pinterest-worthy. But when I see them now, I remember everything. The house we lived in. My grandparents’ home on a mountain in Arkansas. The feeling of being there. And that’s why I love them. They are tied to memory, not performance.
And instead of seeing regular life, so much of what we capture feels staged or rushed or disconnected from how our days actually feel.
Rather than just lament what we might be losing, I want to offer you a different way forward.
First—yes, I want you to print your photos. I’m going to hold your hand while I say this: this is not as hard as it feels. I promise I’m not yelling at you. You can do this. One of the easiest ways I’ve found is using a site like Mixbook. Truly.


I’ve heard every concern: my house isn’t perfect, it’s messy, it’s small. I’ve photographed in beautiful homes and regular everyday homes, and every single one of them has a story worth remembering—because it’s yours. We can photograph inside, in your backyard, your front yard, wherever life is happening.


I have four kids—now 23, 21, 19, and 16. When they were little, there were days it felt impossible to leave the house with all of them. So we made our fun at home. They built with Legos and Playmobil and trains. We read books. Sometimes I was brave enough to bake or pull out washable paint. And I got my camera out.
I wanted the everyday moments. The small hands. The silly smiles. And yes—sometimes I even let them jump on the bed for a picture.
Those are the images I treasure now.
If you’re in the trenches of baby and toddler life, I know it can feel endless. People love to say, “You’ll miss this one day.” And when “this” includes tantrums and diaper blowouts, that can feel… unhelpful. You won’t miss that part. But you will miss the small things—the way your child plays, the sound of their laugh, the rhythm of your days together.

When I plan an in-home session, I come with a simple list of activities to choose from—things like baking, watercolor painting, reading books, playing with a favorite toy, riding bikes, playing in the backyard, jumping on the trampoline. It’s not about posing or frozen smiles. It’s about asking: what does life look like right now, and what do I want to remember?

Think of it like observing your own life from the outside. If you’ve ever seen A Christmas Carol, there’s a scene where Scrooge is shown his childhood—not participating, just observing—and suddenly the feelings and memories come rushing back. It’s a little like that. Except you aren’t Scrooge. And you love your family. 😉
The main thing I’m looking for—aside from the activity—is light. I’ve moved things, shifted furniture, pushed clothes aside. We live in our homes. Evidence of life is normal. And I won’t be there all day. With good planning, I’m usually in and out in about an hour.
After your session, I deliver your edited gallery and create a book for you—something tangible you can hold onto, flip through, and someday pass down.


If this resonates with you, you can click the link below book your session. Even if you don’t know the exact date yet, placing your deposit secures your spot on my calendar.
These aren’t just photos.
They’re the feeling of this season—preserved.

January 31, 2026
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