I just want to share a bit about intimacy. I have so many thoughts on this and I think it’s because I’ve loved and lost so much in this area that I fully and painfully understand the value of it. 

If women are willing to get real and truly honest, we have to recognize the very specific and intentional way a man is created. By design, men need intimacy. Or, to be more specific, SEX! It’s true and it’s not a negative thing. In the same way women need to be adored and loved, Men need sex. 

For some reason, women often choose to withhold sex from our husbands. We prefer ourself and our disinterest over their innate needs. I understand that there are things that need to happen and circumstances that can make honoring intimacy difficult. I’m not assuming we all live in perfect relationships. But what I am saying is that when things are good in the bed room, everything outside the bedroom is so much better. There’s more grace for the stupid shit when you’re having fun in the sheets! Who cares about the trash piling up when you’ve just been “taken care of”. It’s absolutely worth the effort and intention. I think it’s a make or break kind of issue. And I believe very strongly that the residual affects of a healthy bedroom life have a direct and important affect on our children. They have to see us in love. They need to know that their parent’s relationship is secure and they learn how to love and be loved from what they seen in the home. 

Maybe this is too personal or taboo and you think I’m out of line. I’m ok with that. There’s at least one person on the other end of this email that needed to hear this. And yes, there’s a message just like this one for men. Men need to understand how a woman is made and what we need to be able to honor what they need in return. I’m just not the one to deliver that message. I’m simply talking to women. And, I have a feeling, that if you give first, the conversation about what you need and want will be well received and respected. But someone has to give first. 

I say, let it be you. You go first . Do it with a boudoir session full of incredible portraits. Do it with a boudoir experience that doesn’t just impress him with how beautiful you are but also reminds you of how beautiful you are. Boudoir sessions are liberating and inspiring. They make you feel lovely, sexy and lovable. You get your hair and makeup done, you sip champagne, you hang out with me and laugh… It’s really just as much for you as it is for him. 

So hear me out. Meet him at his need and watch what happens because of it. With one boudoir session everything could begin to change. I’ve never heard of anyone regretting it. 

You can schedule a limited amount of shortened sessions to celebrate the new studio using the link above. 

Or use the link below to schedule a full session.

If you need to chat and learn more, please call me or visit my website, I want you to feel informed and excited about booking your session. 

If you’ve followed me for more than 5 minutes, you know how much I love photographing and championing women. Not that I don’t love men, I sure do, but as a women who’s struggled in all the ways women struggle, I want to shout from any pulpit or platform I can that women are incredible beings with many super powers and if we fully understood what we are capable of and made for, the world and more importantly, our families, would be better for it.

I don’t just photograph women as seniors and women as mothers, I photograph Boudoir because I believe in intimacy and self love. I love to see a women realize her unique beauty and how that can change her confidence and her relationship. Marriage is damn hard. Intimacy makes it easier. It’s literally the key.

Not every woman is ready for Boudoir. And Boudoir is not the only way to recognizing your beauty and significance. Sometimes, seeing yourself in a portrait through the eyes of someone else, can change how you see and understand yourself. As a mother, I’ve recognized that how I love myself, care for myself, see myself directly affects how my 14 year old daughter does. She’s learning from me simply by being near and watching. She’s absorbing whatever cutler I create in my home and it can have huge impact on who she grows into. For the good and for the not so good. So be careful with yourself. Be careful how you treat yourself. Be careful how you love yourself. Someone else’s heart my depend on it. Not to mention your own.

Last week, my sweet client and friend Cambria came to town with a blue dress and an excitement to shoot. The day was grey and gloomy but we decided to embrace the moody vibes and play in the dunes amongst the Eucalyptus. The black and whites are my favorites but holy damn, that dress is fire!!! Cambria wore it well, as she wears everything so well. It’s the smile for me. And the hair. And the incredible personality and heart. She’s an all ’round babe in every way. Check out her pretty Instagram and notice the Bohme link in her profile where you can snag that ridiculous blue dress!

If you love what I captured with Cambria, I’d love to photograph you as well. Maybe it’s not in a formal dress on the beach. Maybe it’s in my living room with a backdrop and good window light. Maybe it’s Boudoir, maybe it’s a formal headshot, maybe I come to you…. I’d love to photograph you.

I’m alive and well. And so is she. But barely. Holy shit, jr. high is no joke!!!! And jr. high after covid in this backward senselese culture we live in, I just know it’s the reason God made the tough bitch I am! Excuse my language, that’s how I talk.

I first want to say that jr. high has always been a nightmare. For both the parents and the students. But throw the confusion of this liberal state I live in into the mix and you have a complete disaster and the only way to survive as the single parent taking the beatings is wine and Jesus. It’s been over 2 years of this crazy train. There’s been a lot of yelling, crying, long nights, long talks, and a whole lot of love. We had to work through the most difficult of subjects, experiences, feelings, friendships… I didn’t do it all right. I might have done most of it wrong. I don’t know. I actually haven’t asked her but I think I will. I do know that she’s back. I’m not sure where my baby girl went but she’s back. And I cry every time I think about how scared I was that she might not smile and laugh the way she did before.

Her jr. high was very liberal. The state and education system is very liberal. I happen to be conservative and believe in pretty simple concepts like, by design, men are men and women are women and there’s no other options. Crazy, I know. I happen to want full knowledge and responsibility in my daughter’s health and wellness. Considering I still do her laundry and cook her meals, I think that’s reasonable. I actually want health class to teach on health and not hot political topics including but not limited to encouraging secrecy from parents when seeking out abortions. That was actually taught to my daughter in sex ed. It’s more than mean girls and gross boys these days. Excuse my language but, fuck you California. As for me and my house…

I can thankfully say that my daughter graduated 8th grade with most of the values I taught her in tact. She’s still innocent, drug and alcohol free and happy. It was January of this year, halfway through 8th grade, when she started to come back to me. My sweet vivacious daughter was starting to talk to me again, she hung out and held conversation. She wanted to shop and get coffee. We became buddies. Slowly, but by the time school ended, I was so proud of the amazing and infectious smile on her face. Her heart is golden and I absolutely love her!

When we talk about those dark days of her hiding out in her room, hating everyone, feeling angry for no reason, looking on the outside as lost as she was on the inside, she explains that she felt confused. She had so many misunderstandings of who I was and how I felt about her, along with misunderstandings about herself. She thought I hated her. She despised our differences until she finally started to understand them. We still have differences. And we even have confrontation. But it never interrupts relationship and for that I’m so proud. As her heart is changing so are her looks. It’s like her spark is back and she’s more beautiful than ever.

I know it’s normal to go through tough seasons during jr. high. But I just want to encourage parents to hold strong to what you know is right and good. Stay soft toward them but boundaries and clear right and wrongs are so good for them. The world offers too many options and variations of reality. And, the State of California is not more entitled or more capable of parenting your child than you. That’s a fact and do not let them think otherwise. Every teacher, counselor and principal at that school knows my name and knows what I believe to be good and right for my daughter. And when they cross a line, they hear from me. It might not change policy but it definitely matters.

We’re now off to high school. Help me baby Jesus. She’s ready. She’s going to be amazing. She’s going to make mistakes but I’m confident we’ll talk through them and I’ll love her through it all. This job is tough and exhausting. It’s thankless and merciless. But I’m tough as a mother. We’re gonna be ok.

To the mothers living with loss and holes in their hearts. The mothers who’ve loved and lost so briefly but so significantly. To the mothers who have grieved and still grieve. I too know the pain and the love. I see you. You matter. Your baby matters.

Right now the world is questioning the value of human life. They say that a “fetus” can be murdered and call it health care. I obviously disagree. You might not. But, maybe you too had a mother’s heart upon that first plus sign on a stick or maybe you knew, before you really knew, that you were growing life in your body and that little life mattered. A mother’s love is absolute, It’s undeniable, it’s everything. A mother’s love lives on, even after loss. 

I wrote about my miscarriages a long time ago and I still get emails from women who read it . I love this. I love that there’s this precious club that we are apart of and only we can relate to the pain, the love, the loss. I feel honored that my words and my experience count for more than just the pain I felt. It’s amazing how the most vulnerable story I carry, is significant to other people. 

I’m completely confident and happy to claim my Pro-Life stance. Even with the legitimate grey areas and the exceptions. Over all, I will always lean on the side of life. I know the difference between a miscarriage and an abortion and how each are treated and cared for, or not. I know that our foster care system is terrible and needs a major overhaul. I would never wish that life on anyone. I think our culture also needs a major overhaul and with that might come some conviction and some responsibility for caring for the “widows and the orphans”. There’s a lot to fix. A lot to reconcile. But the answers are not in abortion. I’m sure of that. 

But I digress…

I really just want to acknowledge the mothers out there who have lost. Mother’s who have their rainbow babies and mothers who don’t. Any loss at any time in your pregnancy, is worth how you feel. I know that there’s this weird guilt for feeling sad because your pregnancy was only at 6 weeks, 8 weeks… if you loved that baby at first signs of life and then lost, you are entitled to grieve. Your feelings are valid. You are not being dramatic and you are not insignificant. It’s very real to feel angry, confused, sad, fearful… Even if your feelings aren’t mirrored by your husband. He didn’t lose in the same way you did. Men process it all different because it happens to them different. Let that go. Let yourself heal. Keep your relationship with him priority. Take care of yourself and find ways to create joy. Life keeps moving, you should too. When you’re ready, keep moving, keep laughing, keep working, keep showing up. 

I remember a time many years after my last miscarriage. This specific miscarriage was an ectopic pregnancy, the last of 3, and it was very traumatic. I was getting out of the shower and I couldn’t see my scars from the surgery anymore. I instantly panicked. I didn’t want to forget and I didn’t want to lose the signs of life (and death). For some maternal reason, those scars were precious and I never wanted them to fade. They did though. I can barely see the marks where my fallopian tube thathoused my baby was removed from my body so that I didn’t die. The scar faded, the memory and significance did not. 

I don’t cry or even have the same sting for my losses anymore. I have a sweet vision of this family in heaven that I’ll meet one day. There’s 3 people in heaven that I created. It’s an honor to bring life into the world and into heaven. But, I do cry for others often. I remember how it felt and I can’t help but share in that sadness. I feel it deeply. I am with you.

I hope you’re reading this and you’re finding some resolve or peace. I hope that you feel seen and significant. If you need an ear, I have time. I would love to hear your story. 

Don’t forget that your experience is important. It’s a part of your story. It’s not the only part or the end. It’s a part of your story and it’s precious. Keep that beautiful story going with more experiences and more love.

To the ones who feel unseen, unknown, and tired. The laundry folders, dishwashers, knower of all the things that make worlds go ‘round. Hear my words and know you are more, you are needed, you are incredible. 

Motherhood is the most important fulfilling and yet unfulfilling, sacrificing job ever. The state of the world and the goodness of society is dependent on what we do in our home. It’s humbling to think about and also overwhelming. The literal world depends on good mothers. 

I have 4 children and my oldest is 13 so I have a bit of perspective from where I sit now and yet I’m still in the thick of it. Let me tell you what I know to be true for so many of us. 

Our day is filled with the unglamorous important duties that keep life moving in our famiies… Laundry, dishes, cooking, toilets… if you have boys, you’re literally cleaning the shit out of your house. If we don’t do these important and ever so mundane tasks, everything falls apart. But rarely are we thanked for removing the pee stains from the toilet seat or making sure the sheets are clean and beds are made. There’s an unspoken, and sometimes spoken loud and clear in some marriages , expectation of how we are to serve our family. (I’m sure there’s a different post that fathers can write that is equally true and important, I’m not the one to write that post though) Sometimes we go in to marriage and motherhood with eyes wide open knowing exactly what’s expected and what we intend to do. We accept it and with zeal and naivety, we give ourselves to it. Even still, what I’m about to say remains true. 

In all of our care taking, cleaning and making worlds go ‘round, it’s so easy to get lost, to forget who we are and what brings us joy. Of course we love our children and cherish every moment with them, but WE ARE MORE THAN MOTHERS. WE ARE MORE THAN COOKS. WE ARE MORE THAN THE CLEANING CREW. WE ARE HUMAN BEINGS WITH BIG HEARTS, TALENTS, GIFTS, INTERESTS, CALLINGS! Those things didn’t exit our body’s with the after birth on the floor of labor and delivery for the hospital janitor to clean up and throw out. Those things are not just real still today but important for the success of our family and their future.

For me the sacrifice and unseen work came from my father, my mom baled so he did it all. My dad loved baseball. It was religion in our family. Still is. He played on a fast pitch softball team well into his 40’s. We spent so many nights each week on a baseball field and I remember believing that my dad was supposed to be in the MLB because he was the best ballplayer in Bakersfield California. I LOVED watching him at catcher or second base. I chose to play second base in softball because that’s what he did and I wanted to be just as good. I loved it when he was up to bat and I rooted for a dinger over the fence. I was his cheerleader and he was my hero. The love, adoration and respect for him as a human being with a talent was so good for me and my development as a child. He was more than the provider, gardener, cook and housekeeper. He was a bad ass ballplayer and the best I knew. He created memories for me while he was doing what he loved. He cultivated ambition and competition in me the has been important in life as an adult. He didn’t get lost in his household duties that I know he did without hesitation and with pride. He carried on as a human being with a love for a sport that brought life to him and I was so proud watching him do it. 

I believe this is true for mothers as well. You need to thrive for them and for you. If you don’t, there’s a cost and it’s expensive. Depression, resentment, weight gain, marriage issues…… the list is long and the cost is high. Don’t do it. Don’t continue to lose yourself. Don’t deny  yourself. You have to keep growing and thriving as a person for everyone’s sake. What is it for you? Is it a job you used to do well that you want to try again? Is it a hobby? Do you paint, take pictures, garden, teach…. What do you love? What makes you excited? 

When I was 30 years old with toddlers and a day job, I remember saying out loud to my husband, “I don’t even know who I am or what I love! I don’t know what I do or what I’m good at!” I cried and cried and yelled and cried. And then, I picked up a camera. It was the beginning of something really good. Here I am now, with a 6 figure business that lets me be creative, travel and provide for my family. It got me through divorce, it brought be people I cherish and experiences that grew me.

We have to care for our hearts the same way we care for our family. We need to be healthy and happy as an individual so we can be good for the people we love. If you’re drowning in motherhood and its lost the romance it once had before the weight of reality, I see you and I understand. Go find yourself again. It’ll be good, I promise. 

This is a family I adore. One the has been through my motherhood journey with me and cheered me on in my career. I’m so honored to be their photographer and their friend. Here’s a few of my favorites…

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As I was saying in my instagram post…

This shit is too much! Or is it?

I’m pretty strong and I can carry a heavy load. I was made this way. I’ve always been this way since I was a little girl and unfortunately, I needed to be this way, especially as a little girl. Which is why I know that on the darkest days when the load is weighing me down, I’m actually ok. I’m fine. Truly. Shit might be messy and wrong and not how it’s supposed to be. I may feel sad and angry and exhausted but perspective is everything and if I get a little higher above my circumstances, I can see what’s real. I have a home, my family is healthy, there are so many who love me. There’s work on my calendar and money in the bank. I’m good!

I can look back to times when there wasn’t money in the bank and not everyone was healthy. I’ve been through those scary seasons with no hope or idea how to manage. But here I am. I managed. I cried my tears, I said all the 4 letter words, I hit a few things and did what I had to do. And then… I put my boots on and figured it out.

All of this to say, through the fair and the unjust. Through the hard and happy. In the big fucking messes and the beautiful wins… I’m ok. Sometimes more than ok. And if you’re relating to my experience more than you’d like, you are ok too. I’m sure more than ok sometimes. You know what you’re made of. You know how to fight. Get some perspective and then get to work. It’s time to create your own win!

Wishing all the single mamas all the wins and success,

-Kelli

This scene just played out in my house… One boy is peeing. Door is open, another boy comes in and spanks peeing boy super hard on his bare bottom. Peeing boy almost falls, Pee is spraying everywhere. Other boy laughs and runs away. Peeing boy goes after him with pants half on, no flushing, no washing of hands, no turning out the light, no cleaning up the pee. End scene. 

My house is riddled with Nerf bullets, legos and hot wheels. My laundry is full of inside out jeans with underwear still in them. I buy them at least a dozen pairs of shoes each year. A fraction of everything they eat stays on their face and shirt. And, they don’t care if I’m going number 1 or 2, they’ll tell me all about some amazing Minecraft/Star Wars/Hot wheels… something or other because I’m sitting there with no where to go, I have to listen to them.

My boys are 8, 5 and almost 2. I absolutely love raising boys. I love my girl for sure, but I think there’s a reason I only have one. You feel me…. My boys think I’m beautiful on my worst day. They have a grace for me and I have a grace for them that is just different than with a girl. 

Sometimes Ari (5) will grab my face and tell me how bootiful I am and how much he wuvs my whip stick. He asks me to marry him daily and does this charming little thing where he snaps his fingers and points at me while saying, “Hey babe.” It’s stupid cute. 

Ren (20 months) has always been obsessed with my hair. He puts his arms around my neck and with both hands, plays with it incessantly. If it’s up, he pulls it down. He also loves to be face on face with me. It’s like he can’t get close enough to me so he just smashes himself against me while wearing this cute little grin showing how happy it makes him to literally suffocate me with his love. 

Sam (8) is the man of the house. He opens my doors, takes out the trash, checks the mail, always asks to help me. If I’m upset, he’s upset. He drinks coffee with me in the early mornings because he likes to sit and have quiet moments with me. (really it’s cream with a side of coffee but whatever, it’s sweet) He feels big and I love his tender heart. 

It’s such an important job raising boys. I know the movement of the hour is for women but we’d have no need for a women’s movement if we raised our boys to be gentlemen. We need to teach our boys to be strong and still tender. Brave and still wise. Respectful and responsible. That’s a more challenging job for some over others. How do you do that when there’s isn’t an example present? I don’t have all the answers but I think I’m doing a few things right…

I tell them how I see them even if they aren’t functioning well in it yet. I tell Ren that he’s a strong boy with big love in his heart. He’s actually not that strong because he’s 2 and when he sticks his finger all the way up my nose just because, there’s not much love in his heart but, I say it anyway. I always call them to their best. When Sam makes his bed and it looks like there’s still a body in it, I ask him if that’s the best he’s got. I wait to enter through a door until they open it for me. I rarely have to wait long because it’s become natural to get the door for other people first. Ari is still learning this but Sammy is setting a great example. I remind my boys often that girls are precious and need to be treated as such regardless of how they act. I also remind them that most girls have a daddy and they’ll have to ask that daddy’s permission before they go near her. That convo was introduced after receiving a text message from Ari’s teacher about him chasing, proposing and kissing girls the first week of school. Dear God…

A very wise friend told me this once: Boys get their worth from their momma while they learn how to be a man from their daddy. Girls get their worth from their daddy while they learn how to be a woman from their momma. I’m so thankful to know this bit of wisdom…. 

One of the most important things I’m learning about parenting is to let them see us as people. People with interests and hobby’s, people who over come hard things, people who are kind to other people. They need to see us being good humans so they can become a good human. We have to live out loud in front of our kids. With our kids. 

That’s all I got. Fingers crossed and a lot of prayer I get this right. 

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Out of the 7 babies that have entered my body, only 4 are here with me today. 2 miscarriages and 1 ectopic pregnancy took 3 of my babies to Heaven. I don’t know why miscarriages happen. It’s the first question I’ll ask God when I get to Heaven. I do have a lot of theories, I’ve collected them from all of the people who freely gave me there’s. I know they meant well but if I’m honest, most of them made me more confused and and sometimes angry. Does anyone really know why babies come and go from our bodies before we get to know and love them? I don’t think anyone truly has the answer and I wish we’d all stop trying to make up the answer in efforts to fix someone’s pain. You can’t fix that kind of pain with any explanation. It’s unexplainable, unbearable pain that absolutely has to be felt and lived and processed before it can be tucked away into our heart. We put the memory and ideas of that little person in a safe place, never to be forgotten but also not altering our joy or sanity in the present. Then, we go on with life. 

It’s really a strange thing, to go on with life with out someone who was supposed to be with you. And yet they are with you. I have friends who have babies the same age as the ones I’ve lost. Each time I see those babies I’m reminded of my precious little ones. They are always in my thoughts, always with me. It hurts less today to think of them, but I do think of them often. 

All of my losses were different. My first one was before I had any children. The loss was so significant. It was as if someone stole my baby. Someone took from me what was so precious and belonged only to me. It was a long loss. 7 days of “maybe I’m loosing this baby to I’m loosing this baby and finally, I’ve lost this baby.” Absolutely agonizing. The words, “not a viable pregnancy” only made me angry at my doctor. It felt like she took the life out of the living being in my body by referring to him as a pregnancy. In my heart, he was a person and he was gone and “a little sensitivity would be great, Doc. PS, you’re fired. I’m not a project in your lab, I’m a person. ” Yes, I said that to her. Unapologetically. 

The second miscarriage happened after my second son and during an extremely difficult time in my marriage. I went through it alone. No one really knew I was pregnant and my husband was in a different world. I had to put my boots on and take one for the A-team. There were babies to raise and a marriage to save. “Get off the bathroom floor and go do work, Kelli.” That’s what I said to myself. 

My last loss was an ectopic pregnancy. Baby was growing in my fallopian tube and about to rupture. It was my birthday and I didn’t even make it home from dinner with friends before I was doubled over in the parking lot with the worst pain I had felt since child birth. I took some tylenol and went to bed praying that what I knew was likely would not be my reality. I called my doctor the next morning and she ordered me in immediately. An ultra sound confirmed that my baby was not where she was supposed to be and at any moment could endanger my life. An OR was booked and in 1 hour I found my self in a hospital gown on an operating table about to remove a living baby from my body. I could not reconcile that with my heart. I knew the facts but my heart  was broken over it. Just before the surgery started I asked for the doctors and nurses to clear the room, I had to get to God, He felt far away in that moment and there was no way I was going under with out knowing the creator of that baby in my body was near and not going to hate me for what I was about to do. But I couldn’t pray. I couldn’t think. I was nearly hysterical. I called my dear friend because I knew she could get to Him for me. That’s what friends do. We hear and see for each other when our sadness and fear overwhelms us. And she did just that. She was already in prayer and already had a word from God for me when I got her on the phone. The word that would put my heart at peace long enough to do this impossible thing I was forced to do. She cried with me. She cried so hard with me. Have you ever experienced that? Someone feeling your pain with you? It’s such a gift and so comforting in an uncomfortable moment. It’s love. 

After that loss, I was a mess. Angry as hell and so confused. So much so that I hired a therapist to help me process. I highly recommend therapy to anyone processing through great loss and pain. We all need someone to steer us through losses like that because, let’s get real, grief can make you crazy. Like certifiable sometimes. No one should have to do life; mother children, run a business, and keep their world spinning while in that kind of mourning. We absolutely need help. We need truth. We need love. We need. Period. 

What happened next is for another post but I can tell you that today, 4 years later, the grief has been grieved and my heart isn’t as sensitive anymore. I can smile when I think about my Heaven babies. When I go to the doctor and I fill out the stupid form that asks how many pregnancies and how many living children I have, I proudly tell them I have had 7 pregnancies and 4 beautiful children with me today. I imagine my Heaven babies growing up watching me and knowing me from a distance. One day we will all be together, I won’t be a stranger to them and they have not been orphans. It will all be made right. 

My hope in sharing these stories is not for my own comfort but to extend that to another mommy who needs it. I hope that if you’re reading this with a sting in your heart and tears on your face you will know that you are not alone and you matter. Miscarriage isn’t something  you should just get over and move on from. It deserves to be given time and attention. And, if you need to process through your own loss with someone who might relate to your story, I’m here, talk to me. I mean that with all my battle wounded heart.  

Some say don’t pose, just let it all happen organically. Well actually, there’s nothing organic about a camera and a stranger in your face so, I say, both! 

When I’m with clients photographing families, children, seniors, couples.. I’m shooting for more than just the client. The client likely has a grandma, a mom, an auntie, a future self… While wind blown hair and big laughs are full of life and natural, Your grandma doesn’t always want that on her wall and your yearbook requirements are likely a bit different. So I’ve made it a priority to pose some and direct organic moments all at the same time. 

A timeless portrait with eye contact and smiles is a unicorn photo when you have small kiddos but it’s not impossible. It’s what I start with and then I let moments unfold. When your toddler waddles away and begins to explore, I’m tagging along, capturing chubby hands in the grass and little feet in the sand. When your sweet baby girl reaches up to be held, I’m capturing daddy lifting her up and giving her a little toss in the air to cheer her up. Dads are good for that. When you bend down to discipline your 5 yearly for not listening during family photos, I’m shooting your hands on his face and your eyes locked on each other. You have no idea but I’m grabbing all the moments in between the ones I set up. I’m also setting scenes with easy instruction. Kiddos, do what you do, run as fast as you can to daddy and then tickle him! Or 12 year old, hug your mom and hold her for a minute. While you’re there, tell her thank you for being awesome and promise you’ll never get a girl friend;) If a sweet moment + laughs unfold,I’m high speed shooting all of it!

So If I tell you to stand in a way and look at the camera but then it all falls apart, that is ok! I’m there for it. The moments you think are wasted and no good, I’m finding the memories.

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