The other day I was driving home when I saw the google maps car zipping along in front of me. I cracked up, which made my girls ask, “What are you laughing at, Mama?” Well, the funny way time passes was what made me laugh—but that would have made little sense to my kids, who just turned 3 and 5.

I told them a story instead.

Evidence of your baby growing up so fast

Almost exactly two years ago, when Kiwi was just 1, we were sitting outside in the front yard. A friend of mine I’d met in Kiwi’s mom’s group along with her daughter, who is 8 days older than Kiwi, were over to play. The babies were exploring the yard, checking out dandelions and crawling around in the grass.

My friend’s daughter got hungry, so my friend nursed her. At that moment, the google maps car—with its 360-degree camera mounted on top—slowly cruised by my house.

We waved hello and squeed—then laughed hysterically. We wondered if we—or my friend’s boobs—would end up on google maps.

I checked the google map street view of my house just about every day for the next few weeks until the photos were updated—and, sure enough, we showed up waving hello from my front yard.

Our faces are blurred (as are all people that are captured in the google maps street view), and my friend is totally modest (you can’t see any boob at all), but we were definitely there in my front yard!

The strange passage of time

Kiwi and Peeper still didn’t get why I was laughing about the car in front of us. Then again, they often wonder about the things I find funny—although we three definitely see eye-to-eye on the hilarity of Pinkie Pie, tickling and farts.

I think the reason I couldn’t stop laughing that day was that the universe is so strange sometimes. The google maps car can’t visit my neighborhood that often, but somehow I happened to be there when it drove by—twice.

What’s more, seeing the google maps car reminded me so vividly of a day almost exactly two years ago that, if it hadn’t been immortalized on google street view, would have been just a regular day—unremarkable in its ordinariness. After all, nothing else of note happened. We were just outside enjoying the sun, enjoying each other’s company and enjoying our munchkins.

Seeing the google maps car put this year in stark contrast to that day the car first drove by. Then, Kiwi didn’t especially like crawling in the grass—she’d pick up her bare hands with a slightly distasteful look on her face, as if she wondered what this un-carpet-like ground was. She would try to chew on Finn’s fur. She loved banging on a toy piano and singing along to her “music.”

Fast forward to today.

She practically lives outside barefoot—one of her favorite things to do is shed her shoes and climb the maple tree in front of our house. She loves adventure: She climbs on the play structure in our yard or in the playground with her face set in a a determined, fearless expression. And in quiet moments, she hugs Peeper and says, “I just want to do everything with my big sister.”

*heart explosions*

The mixed emotions of watching your children grow up

So really, I could have cried when I saw that google car and remembered just how much Kiwi has changed. That time doesn’t feel like just yesterday—it feels like a lifetime ago.

So much has happened in the last two years. Kiwi has changed so much. She learned to walk, to count, to lock the rest of the family out of the house. (Ok, I could do without that last one.)

I don’t want to turn back time. I don’t want to lament either of my kids’ growth and development.

So that’s why I laughed: Because really, life is hilarious. The universe does seem to have a quirky sense of humor—why else would I see the google maps car drive directly in front of me, in our out-of-the-way neighborhood, two years after I saw it when I was sitting in my front yard?

Universe, you get me.

And something tells me you might get me, too.

You might be a mother whose child has changed from a squishy dumpling into a whole person with opinions and preferences and sneaky ways of asking Grandma for things Mom said “no” to.

You might be a mother who was hit over the head with a memory so vivid it took your breath away.

You might be a mother who sees evidence of just how much her child has grown up—the Mr. Potato Head your child chose to give away because it’s “too babyish” or the formerly favorite pants that now only reach to mid-calf.

You might be a new mother with a baby who already misses those tender first days when your newborn, still frog-legged and floppy, wanted nothing more than to curl up on your chest.

No matter where you are in your motherhood journey, I send you hugs and love. Motherhood is complex. We feel all the feels, often at the same time. We laugh because we want to cry and cry because we want to laugh. We want some fucking peace and quiet and want to be at the bottom of a kid dog-pile. We want all the things.

But most of all, we want the best for our children.

That is motherhood, no matter our babies’ age.