My favorite pastime

My favorite is pastime is torturing my own sanity.

Which is going on instagram just to go to my archive and see what I posted on my feed over the years..and cry.

Today is one of those days. I not only went to the ig story archive, I actually went to the very beginning. I knew what I was doing, but I couldn’t stop it.

There it was. My first ig story was of Rayyan, maybe at 2 years old, and then Rafiy, who was a baby learning to crawl.

I was at the office so I couldn’t cry, but I really wanted to.

Watching them grow from that stage to now feels terrible. The time I’ve lost. (But thank God for ig story archives for letting me have this moment.)

And how terribly, terribly young and naive I was. Me in my late 20s was awful - trying to fit in so many places, doing far too many things at once, never quite sure where I belong or who I was. Ugh, just look at this blog’s archive, WIWT??? Really?

And at 37 years old now, looking back, the only consolation is how lucky I am to get out of that rat race. Maybe I’m still ambitious, but not THAT obnoxiously so. I can say now I have a lot more dignity..

And my kids are maybe not that small now, but they’re a delight (sometimes). I get to kiss and snuggle them in a different way now. And I never want that to go away.

I will probably torture myself by going down the archives again, but if it makes my mom heart go all smushy again, I’d do it all day long.

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my brain dump.