I take hundreds of photos every month, and most of them don’t get shared with anyone, let alone online. And yet the moments in time that those photos capture are just as important a part of our story as the other images that I do choose to share.

I originally created this blog as a method of documenting our lives, a way of watching the girls grow into who they’re going to be and a memory-box curated to represent who they once were. It’s something I want them to be able to look back on as they get older, because memories fade but (digital) photographs don’t.  A legacy, of sorts.

It’s easy (and tempting) to only focus on sharing the fun bits, the memorable parts, the highlights and the celebrations. But I’m learning more and more as I continue through this wild journey of motherhood and life that it’s really important to me that I capture the ordinary, everyday times that we spend together.  There’s magic in the mundane if you pay close enough attention – sometimes you have to actively look for it, and sometimes it’s right there in front of you.

I’ve started to include myself in the frame from time to time as well, because I was there too.

These images are the details – the pieces of the jigsaw that fill in the gaps to complete the bigger picture of ‘us’.

They offer tantalising glimpses into who the girls are becoming.

They tell the story of the chaos, the calm and all of the moments in between.

This feature – The Moments In Between – is a space for me to share all of those wonderfully imperfect and messy parts of family life that would otherwise just stay in a folder on my laptop, never to see the light of day.

JUNE, JULY & AUGUST 2026

Usually, summer lasts for precisely six weeks, firmly dictated by school holidays and bookended with the end of one academic year and the start of another.  This year, it’s felt gentler.  Softer.  We’ve had a full three months of freedom thanks to exam season and lenient uni semesters, meaning that all three girls finished their studies far earlier than usual.  So much time stretching out ahead of us, coupled with all the gloriously hot, sunny weather we had, was a combination I’ve wanted for a long, long time.

There were busy days and quiet days. Days of just staying at home and days out adventuring somewhere new.  Days spent entirely on screens and days devoted to reading a whole book in one sitting.  Days of running errands and days out in nature.  Days of sleeping in until lunchtime (the girls, not me – I’m always out of bed by 5am!) and days of early starts (accompanied by strong disapproval and vehement grumbles from the teenagers).  Days where everyone got on with each other and days of intense bickering.  Days of running errands and days spent climbing mountains (literally – we conquered Snowdon!).  Days spent working hard and days of zero plans.  Days with friends and days with family.  Days of laughter and days of tears.  Days where we all did something together and days where everyone each did their own thing.

It’s felt very different.  Everyone is older and more independent.  I don’t need to entertain them any more, they make and carry out plans of their own.  It’s been wonderful. And hard.  And joyful and frustrating and life-giving and exhausting and emotional and meaningful and everything in between.

Now, approaching September and the new academic year, the transition has hit me – there is so much change about to happen.  It’s Mimi’s turn to head off to the big wide world of university and I’m only going to have one of my girls at home with me.  I’ve not had time to think about that or process it or lean into how I feel about it.  I’m just ‘doing’ right now – all the things that still need to be done (so much admin, so many logistics to sort out, so many emails to read and action, and so much still to organise, plan, buy & pack) – and that doesn’t really leave much time for ‘being’.

I think, if I’m honest, I’m not ready for summer to be over.  I want to hold onto it for just a little bit longer.  To freeze frame this moment in time, where we’re on the cusp of something new (again) but not quite there yet.  I think, mostly, I just want to remember it all.  In every way that I can, and in as much detail as I can.  I want to let it sink into my skin, to breathe it in, to hold it close – because we’ll never be here, at this point in time, ever again.

And that is precisely why these photographs matter so much.

This was us, and all of our moments in between, throughout summer…