“GIMMIE THAT GARBAGE!!!”

That’s what my toddler has been screaming in the backseat for the last two weeks.

Not because he is asking for actual garbage (though, I wouldn’t put it past him), but because Danny Go has (an admittedly catchy) song that now lives rent-free in our house, our car, and in my head.

No one tells you this about parenting: one day, your playlist will be hijacked by a very cute but very opinionated toddler, your podcasts will be a thing of the past, and your banana-related earworm will shift from scream spelling “B-A-N-A-N-A-S” to never being able to eat a banana without singing “peel banana, peel, peel, banana”.

[Send help.]

And it’s not just the soundtrack that changes when you live with a toddler. 

The whole texture of life tilts.

Somewhere along the line, conversations with friends change from last-minute plans to potty training tips, you learn [the hard way] to never take the last bite even if your kiddo thinks they’re “all done,” and you’ll have a newfound appreciation for the magic eraser.

And then there are all the other things people don’t tell you about parenting:

• How much you’ll miss the misspronounced word when they finally get it right
• Snack choices often rival hostage negotiations
• You’ll have a running list of the best playgrounds [ranked according to slide speed and shade access]
• Your bag will at least double in weight due to forgotten [for now] rock collections
• Silence isn’t peaceful, it’s suspicious

The everyday mess, the unexpected hilarious moments, the tiny gut-punches of watching our kids grow — it’s what fills our lives right now.

That’s why documentary Vermont family photography is so important to me — because it’s about more than just capturing moments; it’s about preserving the messy, beautiful, and fleeting parts of life that often slip by unnoticed. 

To help tell those stories even more fully, I’ve layered in new ways to capture texture:

— Film, with its imperfect softness.
— Super 8, with real movement that feels like memory itself.
— Polaroids, for instant nostalgia you can hold in your hands.
— Custom Album Design, so the story isn’t trapped on a screen “until you have time to make it” [But then the dishes. The emails. The million tiny things that fill a day.]

None of it is about “more for more’s sake”—just ways to honor the many ways life unfolds, so that when you look back, you’ll feel it all again.

My favorite parts of parenthood are full of “things no one told me.” 

And maybe that’s the beauty of it — that in the middle of all the chaos, the garbage songs, and the mispronounced words, we find ourselves loving a life we couldn’t even have imagined before they showed up.

If you’d like these notes to land in your inbox instead of finding them later on the internet somewhere between your 14 open tabs, you can sign up for Sincerely, A. It’s where I share the quieter stuff — motherhood, memory, photography, things I’m noticing, things I don’t want to forget — sent every so often, like a letter from a friend. [psssst… it is also where I share session openings, product drops, and other tidbits that are worth being the first to get your hands on.]