I didn’t have a cell phone until I went off to college and even then I hardly used it. We had a phone on the wall in our dorm room—you know, the kind with a curly cord and actual buttons to push–well, that’s what I always used to talk because my cell had horrible reception, I didn’t know how to text, and there was no camera, apps, or internet so the thing was fairly useless to me.  I’m not talking about a hundred years ago, this was like 2004.

Sometimes I like thinking back to the days when a phone was just a phone and I wasn’t always carrying it around with me scrolling through feeds like a media addict. Sometimes I get this image in my head of myself carrying around a corded phone and constantly looking at it to see if anyone is going to call me—it makes me laugh ;]

I like my fancy pants phone as much as anybody—with immediate access to the internet and lots of fun apps. But still, I think we all know sometimes we miss out on the actual living going on all around us by being so busy trying to keep up with all the virtual living going on via our phones.

I never realized this more until I had my son. There’s a part of me that feels like I need to capture every little thing he does because he’s changing so fast. And capturing everything he does isn’t hard with a cell always in hand—I take a million pics, record all his shenanigans, and scroll through countless feeds in between (you know, since I already have my phone out anyway).

But I’ve realized something in the process of trying to always capture the perfect picture of my little guy: Sometimes watching him through the lens of my phone takes away from just being present with him and watching him with nothing but my own eyes.

Darren and I took Roman to the park recently and he was so cute crawling around exploring in the grass. He picked dandelions and looked them over with a kind of wonder I think you only have when you see something for the very first time. The sun was beginning to drift down below the horizon and the breeze was crisp with leftover remembrances of winter still grasping at spring. Darren held Roman’s little hands in his and helped him walk around…really, Roman mostly danced being so very proud of himself and this newfound use of his legs. I sat there in the cool grass watching my boys, watching the sun set, watching the life of our little one unfold right before me…and I left my phone in my pocket.

I just wanted to live that moment and soak up as much of it in my memory as I possibly could. I wanted to always remember how Darren was as a young father of his first child and how Roman was discovering the world at his daddy’s side. I knew in my heart that trying to capture this moment would actually rob me of it. So I sat and I watched and I lived and the best documentation of these sweet memories is held in my heart instead of my phone.

Since then, I’ve tried to allow more of these sweet moments to unfold all on their own rather than trying to force, pose, and capture them. Yes, I love photos and of course photos help us hold onto memories in their own way. But there’s a part of me that knows I need not capture any moment with a camera that I miss with my own heart and mind by being distracted.

Sometimes, some moments just need to be lived and remembered in our hearts rather than captured and shared on social media.