Every once in a while, I get the itch to pitch, the urge to purge. And though that sounds completely cliche, last night I was ready to go pitchin' and purging' through my closets. No stiletto, no halter, no t-shirt was safe. I was tired of 'the stuff.'
And as anyone on some kind of mission into unknown territory would do, I called in reinforcements. My sister-in-law, Crystal, being the victim of that phone call.
She happily obliged and came ready to help, bags in hand. Bags to haul away the battle wounded apparel.
Gray skies carried in thunder storms. The downpour that followed being the perfect accompaniment to the evening's activity.
Once drawers were emptied and items from the closet had been casually flung onto the bed, until my room resembled that of a frat boy's floor, we sorted and sifted, hung and rehung until we could again see the white of my duvet. At times I just wanted to burrow myself into the piles to make a nice cozy home and just live there. It seemed easier than the alternative.
But just a couple of hours later, we emerged, Victors of Greatness, clad with bags more than we could carry.
And my mess of shiny glossy things, hair bands, dewy shadows and creams went from drawers of chaos to an organized system where each item has it's place.
And our fearless cheerleader...
would gallantly march through, checking our progress, and showing off hers.
And today, the only sign of yesterday's assault would be the freshly bathed doll-house people strewn about the bathroom floor. Bathed because they each underwent a major makeover at the hands of my budding makeup artist.
Needless to say, I finished up the process with loads of laundry today, and the feeling of accomplishment.
just 'being' with my two precious littles.
I love the way Brayden's hand strokes his sister's shoulder as she reads him a story. Swoon.
They melt my heart, the beginning of every day, the ending to each one, and every moment in between.