I'm pretty sure I hate them. I hate the fact that life is made up of such seemingly humdrum pieces. I hate how they can be so good and so bad but are mostly just ... there. I hate how short they are. I hate how long they are.
Such is motherhood.
But how am I supposed to make all these moments count when most of them are just ... moments? How will I know when a moment is going to be a moment?
How many times can you say "moment" before it starts to sound weird?
There is no definitive answer to any of these questions.
People keep telling me, "This is going to go by so fast!"
"You're going to miss this!"
"Your kids won't be little forever!"
... and then someone starts screaming bloody murder because another someone stole their favorite Lego and I'm all, "You know what? It's a really good thing I only have to do this for a few years because no one would be able to survive tiny kids for more than a sliver of their total lifespan."
Basically, parenting has smashed the #YOLO ideology to smithereens.
Is it important to make GREAT BIG memories? Absolutely.
Is it also important to honor the simplicity of our day-to-day existence? Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.
Life is much more than moments. It is days and weeks and months and years. You can't build relationships in a moment. You can't raise kids in a moment. These things and many others matter, even if they're not very tweetable, instagrammable, pinnable, status update-able ... you get my drift.
I guess this a more adult way to look at life. Mayyyybe I'm growing up. A little.
My life may not be incredibly hashtag-worthy right now ...
... OR MAYBE IT IS.
But I WILL honor each day as a piece of the life I'm creating, another block in a very crazy quilt, every moment (big OR small) a "stitch" in time ( ... see what I did there?).
In the end, all I want is to see the compendious beauty of a life well-lived.
I want it to be colorful and wild and LOUD and lovely ... and glittery.
WHAT? I only said I was starting to grow up, you guys.