I noticed something the other day while scrolling through my phone. It was not anything dramatic or surprising, just quietly obvious once I saw it. There are very few photos or videos of me.
There are tons of them of my kids. Devin, Braden, and Austin at different ages and stages. School events, holidays, random moments that felt important at the time. There are also plenty of pictures of the dogs. Riley, Saydee, Ruby, and Mac. Sleeping, playing, doing absolutely nothing special at all.
But me? Not so much. And there are not a lot of my husband Mike either, although there are still more of him than there are of me.
For a long time, I assumed the reason was simple. I do not love having my picture taken. I do not wear makeup as often as I probably should. I am usually in leggings or a hoodie or whatever was clean and comfortable that day. It feels easier to just stay out of the frame than to think about how I look in it.
That explanation is not wrong, but it is also not the whole truth.
The real reason is that I am almost always the one holding the phone.
I am the one trying to capture the moment before it passes. The kids grow so fast, and they do such amazing things, sometimes without even realizing it. A laugh that comes out of nowhere. A look they give each other. A random afternoon that somehow feels important. When those moments happen, my instinct is to grab my phone and save them.
So instead of being in the picture, I am behind it.
This is especially true during holidays. When I look back at Christmas mornings or birthdays or random gatherings, it is almost always just the kids. Them opening presents. Them sitting around the table. Them existing in that fleeting stage of life that feels permanent when you are in it, but absolutely is not.
I am there, of course. Just not visible.
Sometimes I wonder if I should have made more of an effort to step into the frame. Asked someone else to take the picture. Set a timer. Handed the phone to Mike more often. And maybe that is something I should still do.
But I also know why I did not.
I wanted to be present. I wanted to see it with my own eyes, not through a screen. I wanted to catch what mattered to me, even if it meant erasing myself from the record a little bit.
There is a strange tradeoff there. You can either be fully in the moment or fully documented in it. Sometimes you get both, but often you do not. And more often than not, I chose the moment.
That does not mean I am disappointed.
When I look at those photos and videos now, I feel something closer to contentment than regret. I remember exactly where I was standing. What the room sounded like. What I was thinking. I do not need proof that I was there, because I know I was.
Still, I cannot help but think ahead.
Someday, my kids might scroll through these photos the same way I did. They might notice how few include me. They might wonder where I was.
If that day comes, I hope they understand the answer.
I was right there.
I was watching. I was listening. I was making sure the moment did not disappear entirely.
And maybe that is enough.
That said, I am trying to remind myself that it is okay to step into the picture sometimes. It is okay to let a moment go undocumented. It is okay to ask someone else to take the photo. It is also okay to be seen exactly as you are, without makeup, without preparation, without worrying about how it will look years from now.
Life does not need to be perfectly captured to be real.
So maybe the balance is this. Sometimes I will keep doing what I have always done, quietly collecting pieces of my kids growing up. Other times, I will hand the phone to someone else and step into the frame, even if it feels uncomfortable.
Either way, I was there.
And I always will be.