The dog hair of Life.

Almost a calendar year ago I had a great conversation with a birth mama client. She was telling me how she had recently referred my services to a friend of hers- a home birth mama. That woman replied that she wasn’t quite sure of having the photography done because her house wasn’t pretty and she didn’t want to worry about the mess and dog hair- she might be embarrassed to have me there and to photograph that.My client went on to say that she knew all that wasn’t a big deal and that I myself, had mess, and four kids and a dog. But not everyone does. Not everyone knows this. We discussed all the things that we understand as mothers, but when we aren’t connecting enough, or I AM NOT CONNECTING enough to a client base that is inviting me into a very intimate time- I am missing out on the understanding- if I too don’t share. I can be swimming in the current, in the fast, in the slow, in the depths of motherhood right along side you but you still won’t know me- I get it.

I have the most beautiful sunlight stream through my front room windows, the hard wood floors pick up the warmth and the yellow of the walls make the atmosphere so inviting- all ready for an afternoon nap maybe. And there is Golden Retriever dog hair everywhere. Hair under the piano stuck in the foot pedal, hair under the couch, on the backside of the couch and up the arm rest sides. When a door is open and shut the draft picks up hair and tornadoes it around the room. We vacuum, of course we do. At one point, one summer a long, long time ago- I took up vacuuming twice a day, that’s how much dog hair there was. That was unrealistic to think I was going to keep that up. So, I didn’t after a few weeks. We live with it because we loved her, Sugar, and now we love him, Jonas! But I get it, I get the dog hair everywhere and in the spaghetti.

Sugar, at the very end.

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