I see you.

I see you.  Mom in Target who was buying her kids ICEES at 11 am.  I saw how that sauce exploded when your kid dropped the breadsticks on the floor.

I noticed the sticky blue trail you left from the diapers all the way to the shoe section because one of your cups was leaking.

I saw you run into that display when you were trying to push that giant two-seater cart - hey, isn't that for mom's with like 3 kids?  Okay, I know it's the only kind your kid can't escape from because of the shoulder harness seatbelts, but wait -

your kid is escaping.  Ahhh, yep.  He's completely out of the harness and standing on the seat while you're busy putting your groceries on the conveyor belt.  Things aren't looking good for you. I can see it.

I see you try to apologize to the cashier for your distractedness while she's making small talk.  I understand that you have to keep an eye on that toddler - who's making his way to the cooler with the character juices (didn't he already have an ICEE??).

I hear you apologize again - this time because he already opened the toy gun (??!!??) you're buying him before she'd even been able to scan it.

I see you try pay for your groceries, be attentive to the needs of the sauce exploder, keep the escaped toddler from darting right out of the store, collect your receipt, and make sure you still have your card and your keys, and it looks like you're fighting back tears. 
I see you.

I see you because I am you.

This was my morning.  All this before noon - and this doesn't cover the adventures we had before we left the house.

So when you see a haggard looking mom, with crying kids, please realize that she's probably doing the best she can, and she's probably more irritated by the chaos that envelops her than you are.

And if you see a perfect looking mom, with impeccably behaved children, they were probably picking their noses when you weren't looking.

Kimono:  @firebrand_lifestyle

Crystal Neckalce: @seaweedsouls
Bracelet: @black_sheep_jewelry

Tee and Moccs: @thewildfolkco

The Boxhoppers

Everywhere I look, I see boxes.  Little squares on social media, like stickers, trying to provide proof of the contents of each box. 

There are boxes for
having it "all together"
being trendy
being political
home decor
food snobbing

the list goes on.

Everyone seems to hop in their chosen box and stay there, proudly proclaiming how wonderful it is and showing us how they'd never dream of leaving it.

What happens when you don't fit in a box?
When you're a "box hopper?"

What if you really love this box you're in right now, but tomorrow you find yourself inside another box, while eyeing yet another?

This is me.
My life is messy. It's wonderful, but messy.

And I will never fit into a box. I just won't.  Come to think of it, I never have.

I run a clothing company, but if you look at my kids' feet - they're probably black from playing outside barefoot. 

We love backyard chickens and homesteading and nature, but we also love all things Disney. 
We listen to the Christian station, but also to the satellite radio on the 40's station, and rock (but, um...never top 40 - Give it to me, I'm worth it? um...no).

There's not enough "white space" in my feed. I don't use the same filters for every picture. 
I don't live in leggings and a mom bun and drink Starbucks every day.
It takes me 30 tries just to get my whole self in a "selfie," and I'm usually only posting one to support another mama-maker. 

Maybe this makes me a terrible business woman.  Maybe this is why artists are always struggling. Because they ride the wind, letting it carry them to their next burst of inspiration.
And there is no wind inside a box.

But, who cares?  Why are we so concerned with fitting into our boxes anyway?

Today, Bent (my oldest) told me to guess what his 2 favorite cars were.
"I don't know. What?" I asked.

"My 1st favorite is a Corvette Stingray, and my 2nd favorite is a Subaru."

It's official.  We are a family of Boxhoppers.

Bracelets: Sea Weed Souls

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