If you had told me ten years ago that I'd spend countless hours at baseball fields, I probably would've laughed.
And if you'd told me I'd actually kinda love it?
I definitely wouldn't have believed you.
But here I am.
A mom of four, lugging a massive wagon with chairs, a canopy, snacks, toys, my camera, sunscreen in my bag, and somehow still finding baseball dirt in my laundry days later.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped just watching the games and I started seeing the moments.
Not just the home runs or the diving catches...but the nervous hands before stepping into the batter's box, the huge smile after making it safely to first, the teammates waiting at home plate, the coach kneeling down to encourage a player after a tough inning, the younger siblings climbing the fence, or the proud parents in the stands.
Those are the moments that make a season.
As a photographer, it's easy to get excited about the perfect action shot. I love freezing the dirt flying behind a slide or the intensity on a pitcher's face.
But as a mom?
Those quiet moments mean just as much.
Because I know these seasons don't last forever.
One day the uniforms will be too small.
The weekends will get quieter.
And the dugout that feels so ordinary right now will become one of those places you wish you could visit just one more time.
That's why I brought my camera.
Not because every game is extraordinary.
But because ordinary Saturdays have a funny way of becoming the memories we miss the most, even though I currently feel overly busy and exhausted.
I'm so grateful I get to preserve these moments; not just for my own family, but for the families sitting beside me in the stands.
I hope when these kids are grown, they'll look back at these photos and remember more than the game.
I hope they remember how it felt to be twelve years old, covered in dirt, surrounded by teammates, with an entire summer stretching out in front of them.
 
 
I didn't realize how often I missed the little things until I started looking at them through my camera.