Ollieblur

Yesterday I freaked out. I realized I hadn't taken any pictures of Oliver in awhile. Mama-guilt began to set in. When he was a newborn I took pictures everyday. Okay, okay, several pictures a day.

Aw, he's asleep. Click! Flash!
Aw, he pooped. Click! Flash!
Aw, he smiled when he passed gas. Click! Flash!

No phone was safe from the picture mail.

Now that he's mobile I forget to capture the moments. Plus, my camera just can't handle a moving target. He'll stand there with the sweetest smile as he's putting yet another handful of dog food to his mouth. I'll press the button, and before the shutter closes he's quit what he was doing and moved onto something else (electrical cords anyone?). I have several pictures of Oliver in motion, but he looks more like a ghost than a human.

In the midst of my picture panic I got one picture that I love. It's just as blurry as the others, but it's a face I see several times a day. It's Oliver. It's his personality. It's a look that Oliver gives me whenever he's done something he's proud of. I love that look.

As I stared down on the blurry picture it dawned on me that the last couple months have been blur. That life itself is a blur. I keep thinking he's only six months old, but he's actually ten. Soon he'll be one. Someday he'll be eighteen, and I'll wonder what happened? Right now that seems so far away, but if these last few months have taught me anything it's that the present quickly turns to the past.

So I'm left with a fuzzy pile of baby pictures, and one blurry smile. And I couldn't be more thankful.