I’m getting the boys ready to go out and my oldest is jumping from the entryway to the carseat on the floor where his baby brother is buckled. Each jump makes his brother laugh hysterically. I take a video and open the Instagram app ready to post. But as I think about what clever tagline I’ll write I wonder why this need is so strong to always share the cute stuff my kids do. What am I trying to prove? That I’m a good mom? That I have a happy life? That I do fun stuff with my kids? That I look cute today too? After this second-long discussion in my head I delete the video and move on with my day.
Later that night I’m nursing my son to sleep in his room while his brother sits quietly at my feet with the iPad. The thought strikes again to share this on Instagram so I snap a photo. I realize that no one else is going to appreciate this moment, so I don’t post it after all. But why would I delete the picture just because it’s unnecessary on my Instagram account? I still want to remember. These moments are simple, yes, and perhaps not as “Insta-worthy” as the family on the Disney cruise, but these moment are my life. These are the moments that I will forget about completely until I open up my photo album years down the road. I’ll reminisce nostalgically, yearning for these days again.
I don’t hate Instagram but I think I’ll be using it less and my camera more. To help me remember that yes, I was a good mom, and yes, I did have a lot of fun with my kids, and yes I did look cute that day, too.