Part of it comes from having a bit of social media overload since it's what I do for a living.
But another part was this notion that the lives of everyone else just weren't as important as my own.
At face value I suppose that sounds selfish. But when you really think about it, you're sifting through the constant cascade of mostly meaningless information and weird photos of people's lunches from "friends" you hardly know when you could be doing other things that could really use your attention more.
Sure, it's sweet avoidance and a sexy time killer. It's a feeder of the beast that is procrastination.
And it's saved me many a time.
But then what?
This is a criticism we "mommy bloggers" have gotten for many years now, that we spend so much of our time and sink our heart and soul into telling our story and our kids' stories that we don't actually get to experience it with them.
This is also a criticism we've called bullshit on for many years now. We live it and then write it. That's what memoirists do. What personal bloggers (or whatever we're calling them now) do.
But now there's Instagram and the Vine app (which allows you to share 6 second video silent video clips), and hell still Facebook and Twitter at times, and it's almost like we're so busy showing people what we did or what we are doing that we become even more removed from our own actual experience of it.
We are telling it as it is happening, which means by all accounts there's a lot we're going to miss out on.
I'm hardly pointing a finger at anyone because I know how much of a double-edged sword this is, especially when I'm co-hosting an event where tweets and photos and a visible tally is important to show success. Liz always said that the sign of a really good party is when no one is tweeting while they're at it.
But I get that having a great time without telling anyone isn't great for ROI.
So here's the question: What's the ROI on your life?
I'm not saying we can't be actors in and directors of our own movies. We all want so desperately to take the memories that we are making with our children and freeze them in time. So we snap and click and press record in an attempt to hold on to what we know we're going to lose.
Time is a parent's nemesis.
But if we spend so much time recording those images and videos, will we remember to make sure we're actually in them?
The memories might be fleeting, but I'm beginning to think that enjoying the actual moments will always be better than trying to relive them by looking and watching later.