There are approximately 47 tiny shoes by my front door right now.
Okay, maybe not 47.
But when you have three kids under five, it certainly feels like 47.
There are also snack wrappers in places snack wrappers shouldn’t be, a sippy cup I have been looking for since Tuesday, laundry that I’m pretty sure reproduces overnight, and at least one child asking me for something while I’m trying to answer another child’s question.
This is mom life right now.
Beautiful. Loud. Exhausting. Hilarious. And moving way too fast.
And this fall, it feels especially bittersweet because we’re stepping into a brand-new chapter.
My oldest is starting kindergarten.
And my youngest?
My baby is turning ONE.
Someone please explain how those two things are happening at the same time.
Wait… Kindergarten?!
I knew kindergarten was coming.
Obviously.
That’s how time works.
But knowing something is coming and actually standing there buying school supplies for your first baby are two completely different experiences.
Suddenly, we’re talking about backpacks and lunch boxes and school shoes.
We’re thinking about morning routines and drop-offs and what time everyone needs to be out the door.
I’m labeling things.
So. Many. Things.
And somewhere between checking off the school-supply list and wondering whether my child actually needs that many glue sticks, it hit me:
This is it.
We’re starting school.
Not preschool.
Not someday.
Kindergarten.
And Somehow My Baby Is One
At the exact same time I’m sending one child off to kindergarten, my youngest is turning one.
ONE.
The baby who I’m pretty sure I just brought home yesterday is suddenly becoming a toddler.
There are first steps and new words and tiny opinions getting bigger by the day.
And that is the particularly cruel magic trick of motherhood:
The days can feel incredibly long while the years somehow disappear.
When you’re awake at 2 a.m. with a baby, it feels like morning may never come.
When everyone is melting down at 4:30 p.m. and you haven’t even started dinner, bedtime feels approximately 17 years away.
Then you blink.
The baby turns one.
The toddler becomes a preschooler.
And the little person who used to need you for absolutely everything walks into kindergarten carrying a backpack.
Three Kids Under Five Is… A Lot
I love my children more than anything.
And also:
Three kids under five is absolute chaos.
Both things can be true.
Someone always needs a snack.
Someone is always missing a shoe.
Someone needs help going potty at the exact moment another child needs help opening something.
I clean one room while another room is actively being destroyed.
I have reheated the same cup of coffee so many times that I’m fairly certain my microwave and I are now coworkers.
Getting everyone out of the house requires the logistical planning of a small military operation.
And when we finally get into the car?
Someone forgot something.
Every. Single. Time.
If you’re another Lawrence-area mom in this season of life, I know you get it.
The Back-to-School Emotions Nobody Warns You About
Back-to-school season looks adorable on social media.
New backpacks.
First-day signs.
Cute outfits.
Perfectly packed lunch boxes.
But behind those photographs, there’s a mom wondering:
Are they ready?
Did I teach them enough?
Will they make friends?
Will someone help them if they need it?
Will they be okay without me?
And maybe the hardest one:
Am I ready for this?
Because kindergarten isn’t only a milestone for our kids.
It’s a milestone for us, too.
We’re learning how to loosen our grip just a little.
We’re trusting someone else with this tiny person who has occupied such an enormous part of our world.
We’re watching them become more independent right in front of us.
And we’re incredibly proud.
But maybe a tiny bit heartbroken, too.
I Understand Why Moms Want the Picture
Being a photographer has made me hyper-aware of how quickly these seasons change.
But being a mom?
That’s what makes me understand why the photographs matter.
Of course I want the beautiful portrait.
But I also want to remember the tiny backpack that looked enormous on little shoulders.
I want to remember the missing teeth.
The toddler curls.
The baby cheeks.
The way my children fit against me before they became too big to carry.
I want the photograph of all three of them together—even if getting that photograph requires snacks, silly noises, bribery, and approximately 700 attempts.
Because I know something now that I didn’t fully understand when I first became a mom:
You don’t realize you’re living in the “before” until you’re already in the “after.”
The Messy Parts Are Part of the Story, Too
Motherhood has taught me that the photographs I love most aren’t necessarily the ones where everything looks perfect.
They’re the ones where I can feel the moment.
The belly laugh.
The tiny hand reaching for mine.
The sibling who couldn’t stop touching the baby.
The toddler who refused to sit still.
The child who wanted Mom.
Those aren’t imperfections.
That’s the story.
And that’s exactly what I want families to feel when they step in front of my camera.
You don’t need perfectly behaved children.
You don’t need everyone to smile on command.
You don’t need to have mom life figured out before you schedule family pictures.
Goodness knows I don’t.
Bring me the chaos.
I’m living it, too.
To the Lawrence Moms Sending Babies to School This Fall…
I see you.
Whether you’re sending your first child to kindergarten or your last one off to high school, there’s something about August that makes you realize just how quickly childhood is moving.
One minute, summer stretches endlessly ahead of us.
We’re at the park, running around town, finding ways to keep everyone entertained, and counting down the minutes until bedtime.
Then suddenly the school supplies appear in stores.
The backpacks come out.
Calendars fill up.
And we’re standing at the beginning of another school year wondering how our babies got this big.
So take the picture.
Actually, take lots of them.
Take the first-day-of-school picture even if someone is crying.
Take the photograph of the backpack hanging by the door.
Take the picture of the lunchbox.
Take the picture of them walking away.
And please—
Get in some of them yourself.
Hand your phone to someone else.
Use the timer.
Ask your spouse.
Ask another mom.
Whatever you need to do.
Someday your child isn’t only going to want photographs of what they looked like.
They’re going to want photographs of what you looked like loving them.
This Season Won’t Last
Right now, my life is three children under five.
It’s kindergarten beginnings and first birthdays.
It’s snacks and naps and school schedules.
It’s tiny socks in the laundry and toys scattered across the floor.
It’s trying to run a photography business while raising three little humans who don’t particularly care that Mom has emails to answer.
It’s exhausting.
And funny.
And overwhelming.
And unbelievably precious.
I know there will come a day when my house is quieter.
There won’t be tiny shoes piled by the door.
No one will need me to open their snack.
There won’t be a baby on my hip while I’m trying to accomplish six other things.
And I’m sure some parts of that season will be wonderful.
But I’m also pretty sure I’ll miss this one.
Maybe not the 4:30 p.m. meltdowns.
Or the mystery sippy cups.
But this version of us?
Absolutely.
So this fall, I’m reminding myself of the same thing I tell the families who step in front of my camera:
Don’t wait for life to slow down before you document it.
It probably isn’t going to.
Take the photographs while things are messy.
Take them while they’re changing.
Take them while your kids are little enough to climb into your lap.
Take them while you’re in the thick of it.
Because one day, you’ll look at those photographs and realize:
Those weren’t just ordinary days.
They were your family’s story.
And you were right in the middle of it.
— Katie
Evelyn & Co. Portraits
