Slowing Down

I don't know what it is lately, but I feel like my mind and my life are racing at warp speed. It's like my thoughts are running through my head at marathon pace, and I barely have time to breathe before another one rushes in.  For instance, when I woke up today, my mind was all like, "ohmygosh, it's5:45andyouaresupposedtobeupat5:30! Getupimmediately! DidIbeatthatlastboardonCandyCrush--noIdon'tthinkIdidheyIhopethecoffeepotgotsetlastnightIreallyneedcoffee." Deep breath...and, "IforgotwhatIwasgoingtowearIhopethelaundrygotdrydoIhaveanymeetingsthismorningohyeahIforgottoemailthisone
teacherbacklastnightandcanImakeittogetanallergyshotandmoreimportantlydoIhavetimeforonegameofCandyCrush
rightnow?" I swear, I can almost literally feel the thoughts pinging off of one another in my brain. Like the bad golf shot that Marty hit a few years ago, where he chipped it directly to the right and it smacked straight into a tree, then ricocheted back directly into his shin (and I immediately fell down on the ground laughing and tried not to pee my pants. As in I was laying on a golf course). True story, and even better, it proves my point. My brain is such a random mess and I feel like I've lost any focus I ever had.

It's easy to do, when you're thinking about work and home and kids and family and work and friends and work. It happens without you even noticing it, and then you realize you've been staring out your car window and you can't even remember what you were originally thinking about, and why am I at the store again? What did we need? Life is SO. FAST. PACED.  Time is a cruel mistress.  She slows for no one.  A blink of an eye, and my babies, my tiny preemies, are four. And a half.

This fast-paced whirlwind of life also makes it easy to overlook the simple moments. The ones that can easily get lost in the fray. The beautiful little pieces of sand in the hourglass of life (like that imagery?) that look like nothing at all unless the light hits them just the right way. It doesn't automatically happen, this noticing of the sand.  In this insane world, you have to MAKE your own light.

This weekend, I made my light. Instead of hurrying through all of our activities and trying to play as much Candy Crush as humanly possible (don't you dare judge me until you've tried it...), I made a conscious effort to notice what was perfect and wonderful in the moment. I went for a run Sunday morning, and noticed the gorgeous green, the crystal blue sky, and the amazing temperature that is fall in Kentucky.  I said a quick thank you for making such beautiful scenery.  When I got home, Anderson wanted to "snuggle" (meaning get in my bed with me and be totally crazy). He and Amelia both clambered into the bed and got as close to me as humanly possible. I felt their soft skin, listened to their breath. I made a mental note to always remember how Amelia feels in the crook of my arm, the way she sounds when she breathes, a bit faster than most kids because of her tiny lungs.  How Anderson says, "We're snuggling togeder" over and over, rubs his cold little feet on my legs. Instead of hopping up and rushing into cleaning, or thinking about what all needed to be done, I chose to be IN that moment, to place a bookmark right there in my memory, so that I can always recall that feeling. Because they're growing up.  They say and do such grown-up things every single day.

Maybe it's the change of seasons that's got me introspective, but without sounding too cliche or over-the-top mom-bloggish, I really encourage you--regardless of where you are in your life--to take time to slow down and just see things for what they are.  Appreciate the little things. Be grateful. And then of course, feel free to go back to Candy Crush. And be sure to send me a life.