Sllloooooooowwwwwwweeeeerrrrr...

Have you ever recorded yourself on tape and played it back in slow motion?

I used to do it all the time as a kid. For some reason, listening to that deep, excruciatingly slow voice cracked me up every single time.

Actually, it still does. Sometimes when a reporter does a live hit without a script, I have to watch them in slow motion so I can transcribe what they are saying and turn it into a web story. I can't stop giggling as I listen to warped voices coming from slow-moving mouths.

Poor reporters.

For some reason, I started thinking about this very concept today. Life around here has been crazy lately. Insane even. Reece and I both work very demanding jobs, we have a very demanding 5-month-old, we have family obligations and events, we have demanding church callings, we are in the midst of applying to graduate school (for Reece) -- it just feels like life is speeding by.

Sometimes I feel like I'm missing the most important things. I love my job. I do. But I come home after a 12 hour shift and my daughter is already asleep, and I can't help but feel a little bit sad about missing those 12 hours of her life, as silly as that might sound.

I was looking through our pictures the other day and felt my heart break a little when I saw this:



My tiny, newborn baby girl (not to mention my bloated, fluid-filled face). Where did she go? How is it that over five months have passed since this photo was taken?

When I was pregnant, time couldn't go fast enough. It was all about checking off the months, the weeks, even the days until August 4th (which turned out to be a meaningless date, but who's counting?).

When Lola was born, we were lucky enough to have two whole weeks without work, obligation or stress from the outside. It was just our little family. We would wake up together (at all hours of the night), lay in bed together, take naps together, talk to each other and just focus 100 % of our attention on our new daughter.

It was truly beautiful.

And though those two weeks were arguably the most difficult weeks of my little life, they were also the most memorable.

But things change. Bills must be paid. Futures must be attended to. Real life must force its way back into the picture. Before I knew it, my tiny little squeaker turned into this beautiful girl:



I just don't ever want to look back on this time and wish I had done things differently. I've always tried to enjoy the now, but I find myself constantly wishing we were at a slower point in our lives, with fewer demands, fewer obligations, fewer worries.

My good husband gently reminds me this time may never come. In fact, I may just look back on this particular stage 20 years from now and say to myself, "Remember when things were simple?"

Even so, I wish I had a magic button that would put my life in slow motion.

Even though it would probably make me laugh.