Three years ago I abandoned the chain store photo studios. You have to understand, I faithfully brought my children to them for birthdays, Halloween, and annually for a group shot. I was consistent and diligent and am still grateful to have those regular captures of my children. But they didn’t capture mine as I see them. I don’t usually set my kids on a table covered in a black cloth and wave a feather duster in their face, so there was nothing truly genuine in the ending photographs.

My lil girl had just turned three when I set out on our first big photo shoot. I drove to Huntington Botanical Gardens in Pasadena. Just before we went to the gardens I stopped off at Wild Oats to get some grains and organic sunscreen (which didn’t work by the way). Something triggered my girl in the check out. I don’t remember what. I do remember that I carried her back to the car kicking and screaming while all the other customers turned to stare. What ensued was the biggest toddler tantrum in our mother/daughter history. She was screaming, arching her back, and escaping her car seat. I pulled over multiple times to get her settled back in. Eventually I was in tears and called my husband. She was hysterical. I was hysterical. We certainly weren’t going to have success taking pictures. I was afraid to get on the freeway with her climbing out of her seat. It was horrible.

When the storm was over, she appeared to snap back into the little girl I remember. She wasn’t extremely excited about looking at my camera either, but I ended up getting an image for my wall. She has been my most difficult to photograph for years. When she turned five, we rounded a corner. She decided to accept my doughnut incentive program, and I agreed to make our photo sessions less than a millennium long. My butterfly emerged from her chrysalis. Look at her now – my most agreeable photo subject; my most beautiful little girl.