Snapshots

If you go to church (hey look, I started doing that sometimeish latelyish kindofish itsnicetohavehelponSundaysish), your message this week was likely something having to do with salt and light.

The flavor of salt that enhances our lives, and the gift light that we can use to project it outwards.

Facebook surprised us all last week with light with a snapshot of our lives.  The flavor of our lives.

My video made me teary.

Your video probably made me teary as well.

A snapshot of our lives.

But what lives?

The lives we project outwards?

My light ya'll?  It's quite fluorescent and manufactured many days.

My video didn't show the time we had to whisk a kid of out La Lom@... let's just say that wasn't black beans on the floor like I said it was.

It didn't snapshot the nights I spent for the first few months of parenting after infertility, thinking "holy shit, what did we just do??"

It didn't capture the times we do the "pretending to not hear the baby in the middle of the night, because even if it really is my turn, man, I CANNOT peel myself off the pillow tonight.

The night you change the sheets three times (no further explanation needed)...

The time you have to pin your child down to get a shirt on, and OMG, I DON'T WANT TO WEAR THE DINOSAUR SHIRT YOU CRAZY WOMAN!...

The time I found a dried up mac and cheese in my shirt and I hadn't served mac and cheese in a few weeks....

It didn't show that moment when I took a kind of snotty kid to school with some Tylenol in him because I couldn't miss another day of work.

It didn't snapshot the cold shoulder when there aren't any clean bottles...

The fact that I am looking forward to Dance Moms, because, mindless, ya'll...

When you sigh looking at a five day weekend, not knowing you are equipped...

Or when, I CANNOT BELIEVE WE ARE EATING PORK CHOPS...AGAIN...

Or when, it seriously can't be my turn for the first shower...

Or when, everyone rejects the dinner you made.  The three dinners you made.

Or just cries when they look at it.

The time your heart stopped when you toddler ran into the street because it turns out he's going to be a runner, and you couldn't catch him quickly enough holding the baby.

This is my salt ya'll. 

And my flavor.

Pass the pepper.