Sitting down to type this evening feels like coming up for air (for full disclosure, I must admit that I'm not exactly sure what coming up for air feels like. I am not a strong swimmer. I mean, I'm not going to sink if I jump into the deep end, but I'm also not swimming laps underwater.) So, while I've never experienced the literal coming up for air feeling, I am pretty certain it feels exactly like I feel at this moment.

{Holy. Moly. I'm. So. Scattered.}

Lately, I've let the chaos of life get the best of me. I've been sinking in toys and laundry and whining and tattling. I've been drowning in self-expectations and schedules and mastitis and Mommy-guilt. I'm finding that despite the number of items I check off my to-do list each day, it still seems to grow longer and longer. I've been quick to anger and short on patience. I've needed an extra helping of grace yet have struggled at doling out even small amounts to those I love the most. 

In the midst of this season, I happened upon a blog post entitled Dear Mom on the iPhone (I am purposefully not including the link.) It was written in the form of a letter to a hypothetical mom who was on her phone while her kids played at the park, trying to get her attention. Initially, I thought it was a good read, something to consider. The premise of the blog being that we, moms, miss so many little moments with our children when we're distracted - whether by an iPhone or a computer or any other distraction, really. The ideas from the blog have come to my mind several times throughout the last month, and the more I thought about what the writer said, the more I began to disagree.

As a full time Mommy to three young children, rarely does a day pass without some well intending person with older children reminding me of how quickly these days will pass. 'You'll blink!' they say. 

I know they're right. I get it. Really. I do. 

My firstborn is starting kindergarten in the fall, and it does feel like just yesterday that I was laying my eyes on her precious face for the first time. Murphy Girl went from being my baby to a bonafide big sister, and the Itty Bitty (who I still refer to as a newborn!) is over halfway towards the one year mark. 

But here's the thing, despite the fact that these years with our young family will indeed fly by, the hours, most definitely, do not. So, if I've loaded up the stroller with snacks and diapers and dolls and sippies, headed to the park, and started the girls at building their latest sand masterpiece, I will not feel Mommy-guilt if I pull out my phone. Why? Because a quick text to a friend, a post to FaceBook, a scroll through Instagram, or a glance at CNN {or, let's be honest, RadarOnline}can do wonders to help me feel connected.

While I wouldn't trade my job as a stay at home Mommy for anything, it can be an isolating existence. Behind the walls of our house, it's just me and the mini monarchs, and I must make a concerted effort to be connected to something, to anything, in the adult world. Otherwise, I find myself morphing into a Mommy-sized version of a preschooler. 

I find myself adopting their preferences

their ways

their language.

{Imagine life in a sorority house or within a high-school clique, except my sisters are all under the age of five.}

Of course, I'm not suggesting that we should park our booties on the sofa and avoid all interaction with our children, but I just don't think my girls will suffer if I miss one cartwheel. In fact, I think teaching children to play independently is a good thing. I would love to help my girls to develop an internal sense of pride rather than always seeking external (Look at me!) validation. 

I am intentional in keeping my phone in my purse (and out of my hands!) most of the time - especially during family meals. I am conscious of not looking down at it when the girls are trying to talk to me. I don't want my voice to say, I'm listening, but my non-verbals to portray something different. And, more than once, I've reminded myself that whatever is happening in social media land is not important in comparison to what's happening in the moment.

As I'm trying to find balance and control and peace and calm, I find myself craving connections more than most anything. I'm grateful for girlfriends (especially those who always text right back) and for the technology that allows me to connect with friends across the country and watch their babies grow. I'm grateful for a quick check-in with my hubby and for minute to peek at an online article on Gwyneth Paltrow's workout routine (2 hours a day? uh. yea.) 

And, I'm thankful for this.

{Breathe.} 

Perplexing in Pink

I've been feeling the writing 'itch' for the past couple of weeks, but even as I sit down to type, I'm still unsure of how this post will unfold. I just know that I want to write and that the writing will provide a calm that is hard to explain to those who don't have a writer's heart. Life has just been moving... moving very quickly. And it feels like the days are full of ups and downs from hour to hour, minute to minute somedays.
Murphy Girl's moods are without question the number one contribution to this frequent fluidity. Her attitude can change on a dime with little or no forewarning. One moment, she's snuggling with Carter and calling her 'Carter Mommy', and the next she's slapping her, falling to the floor, and flailing about. A simple statement such as, 'Sweetheart, let's get ready to go to Target!' can yield an obstinate response like this:

'I not yike-a to go to Target.'

Once at the Mommy Mecca, she was a little angel and so proud of herself for being a good helper. Then moments later, in the parking lot, I thanked her for helping me push Baby Wright's stroller (thus keeping her hand on the stroller and herself safe.) Apparently, she did not want this positive action acknowledged, so she immediately let go of the stroller and began to casually meander around the parking garage. She paid no attention to my stern orders to hold on to the stroller, pulled away from my attempts to get ahold of her, and eventually collapsed to the ground beside of the car.  

This is the face I saw each time I peered

into the rearview mirror on our drive home.

Anytime Murphy disappears in the house, I am certain to find her upstairs in her room engaging in a little thumb-sucking, Mousey (her lovie) rubbing on the sly.

As she heard me walking up the stairs,

she assumed this position.

When I asked what she was doing,

she proudly flipped over and declared,

'I'm-a suckin' my tum!'

Just today she threw a fit in the bathroom over who-knows-what and then concluded the fit by begging for milk. I calmly informed her that her behavior was not the way one acts when one is looking for a sippy cup fill. She jumped up and ran to sulk behind the playhouse.

This is how I found her.

And, here she is, all smiles just seconds later

at the discovery of her reflection in the mirror behind her.

Taking a look at these pics, you may assume by the repeated attire that these photos were all taken on the same day: au contraire. What they do reveal, however, is a new, serious obsession in our house: the color PINK. Really, scroll back through. Are you seeing it? The carseat is pink. The bedroom walls are pink. The bedding is pink. Her princess gown is pink. The dress under it is pink. Her socks are pink. Her shoes are pink. Her panties (though hidden) are always pink. 

The problem that has arisen from this hue obsession is that big sis, who has always been a fan of orange and more recently gold,  has seen this as an opportunity to engage in yet another form of sibling rivalry. 

My pretty pink princesses.

{It's all fun and games until somebody loses a pigtail.}

Can you even imagine their pure joy 

at meeting THE REAL Pinkalicious?!?!

The whole pink thing has become such a problem that I've had to ban the use of pink bowls or pink plates from our kitchen. I simply could not handle the shrieking sounds that were filling every meal over who gets what plate. But, I digress...

Sweetest. Face. Ever.

Behind that sweet, pink exterior lies a little girl who'd just as soon tell her Mommy to 'Yeave-a me a-yone!' and 'Don't talk-a to me while I'm-a readin!' as to smother me with kisses and snuggles. She tells me daily that I'm her best friend and says 'I yuv-a you, Mommy!' with no prompting at all. Last week, I was struck with the thing that I had feared most as a nursing Mommy: mastitis. While closely observing me writhe in pain while feeding the baby, she raised her eyebrows, smacked her lips, and said, 'Mommy, your boobies are niiiiiiiice...' {Creepy? A tad.}

Rockin her pink gown and 

mommy's caged heels.

She refers to magic wands (and ANYTHING can be a magic wand) as her bippity-boppity-boo, and she wears either rain boots or sparkle shoes with every outfit. Her teachers often comment on her progressive fashion choices. She has begun sleeping in dresses instead of jammers, and she wears shoes (and I'm not talking slippers) to bed every night. She's finally mastered the art of pooping in the potty, but she must be staring me dead in the eyes in order to successfully complete the task {Creepy? Very.} Upon gazing at her addition to the toilet bowl, she sinisterly said, 'I'm-a gonna eat that poop. That yittle one? I'm-a eat that one.' {Super creepy? Yes. Super creepy and utterly hilarious? Indeed.}The girlie has her quirks; that's for sure. 

It's funny how this post evolved. I was thinking that I'd be writing about all the ups and downs with our family these days, but it turned out to solely focus on Murphy and her ups and downs. I've heard a saying that a mother is only as happy as her saddest child. In our house, I'd have to adjust that to say, This Mommy is only as sane as my most insane child! As I'm writing, I can't help but think back to this post. My how times haven't changed...

Oh, and about that pink car seat?

There are now two pink car seats. 

Having one green (it's barely visible there beside the pink one)

 and one pink was just an utter nightmare. 

{Hope Baby Wright doesn't mind green when she moves up!}