Motherhood is all about timing.

We make time, find time, spend time, try to be on time, record time and then fight time with anti-wrinkle cream each night.

Each day we cram in playtime, nap time, snack time, quiet time, dinnertime and quality time. No wonder I laugh when one of my single friends suggests I take a little "me time."

Yeah, I'll squeeze that in on the 15th of Never, right after I finish my daughter's scrapbook and read a book that doesn't have fuzzy ducks on it.

The clock has ruled my life since I became a mother 18 months ago. You'll understand this feeling if you've ever missed your toddler's "nap window" — which is about as close to "me time" as any mom can get — or been five minutes late feeding a hungry infant.

Even when my daughter, Nicole, was first born, I found myself enslaved to time with breastfeeding every two hours, taking pain medication in between and keeping a detailed log of diaper changes, meds and feedings.

My life had been boiled down to two-hour increments, and I thought I'd never escape the clock.

Eighteen months later, I still feel locked in a daily battle to fit it all in, get it all done and to do it all on time.

Lately, though, I've realized that while I've been watching the clock, my daughter found the time to grow up.

It came as a shock to me the other morning when I awoke to a toddler in my bed. It wasn't a baby snuggled in next to me anymore, but a real little girl snoring away by my side.

So with all the ways I feel about time, I also stand in awe of it.

Perhaps it's a fitting season to be contemplating the ephemeral nature of time as the canyons turn vibrant reds and yellows and the mountains don their annual snowcaps. Everywhere around me there is evidence that time keeps trudging on — whether we like it or not.

And if I'm not careful, time also can become a thief, stealing away precious moments with Nicole and replacing memories with schedules.

It was my daughter who reminded me of this last week when my neighborhood had a power outage. With no Internet, lights or TV, my husband and I sat on the living room floor with Nicole to play flashlight games. She ran around the room laughing and jumping as we skirted the lights around her.

But then, the lights came back on.

Just like that, I jumped up to check my e-mail, my husband turned on the TV, and Nicole was left wondering what happened.

As she started crying and pulling on my arm, I realized all she wanted was a little more time without the distractions and demands of our daily lives — just a little more time.

So, we turned off all the lights, the computers, the clocks and the phones and turned our attention on each other. As lights flicked on across our neighborhood, we sat in the dark with just our flashlights and Nicole's infectious giggle.

And once all the clocks were off, a funny thing happened. We were no longer finding time, making time or even spending time; we were just a family finally losing track of time.

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Erin Stewart's blog, Just4Mom, can be found Tuesdays and Thursdays at deseretnews.com.

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E-mail: estewart@desnews.com