Confessions of a phone whore…

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By ‘Phone Whore’ I don’t mean I’m on the phone talking dirty. I mean I can’t get enough of it….. The phone.

It’s niggling away at me. The moment I wake, I almost reach out to grab for it, before my eyes are even open.

The daily ritual begins.

First I take it off of flight mode, something I’ve started doing to help my sleep, sparing me of my bleeping notifications just as my mind switches off. Then I’m straight to my Instagram and Facebook page to sneak a peek of what I’ve missed, before checking my emails and scrolling through Sky News updates, that seem to only remind  me how frightening our world is becoming. A ritual that I repeat several times a day.

Something keeps telling me to just stop. Just for a moment, and look at what’s really going on.

I’ve been thinking for some time now, and have mentioned before that I’m scared my boys aren’t getting the best of me, and I know they’re not.

I’m so terrified of missing something, I find myself snapping away photos at every given opportunity, to make sure I’m creating memories we’ll always remember. I mean, to think the boys won’t have any memory of these precious, little years makes me really sad, given that they’ve been the best days of my life, and ones I’ll never forget.

I guess that’s why my bloody phone is glued to my hand at all times. I’m constantly snapping away, pointing this fun sponge in their little faces to get a picture, and I look up from it to see the boys already glancing over at me, looking for approval, for encouragement in something they’re doing or just attention. God knows they could have done a backflip and cooked a roast dinner in that time, and I’d have missed it all.

Don’t get me wrong this isn’t the case every single moment of the day, because generally I’m not sat still long enough, but when I have those precious days at home just me and the boys, I’m 100% guilty of it. It’s there at dinner, It’s out when we go walking, it’s out to capture all of the firsts, and lasts. I’m almost certain most people are the same. For me, my blogging has become such a massive part of my life, almost a job to me now that I thoroughly enjoy. It’s been a snapshot documentary of me becoming a mother, the struggle we had to get here, and life beyond.

Without even knowing it or meaning to, I’ve become what some would class as one of those utterly annoying mother’s that keeps popping up on your news feed. “Oh hi there, me again…. Just another picture of my kids! “.

Alough most of my phone time is focused around the boys, for example my ‘kickstartbabies’, I need to learn to use my time wisely. Like for instance right now. I started  writing this as they play so perfectly, tottering around in front of me on the floor, and hadn’t looked at them properly for a good half hour. When they went to bed, I was typing as I sit there with Keith and I’m still editing it now, while they nap.

It’s not good enough.

I take making memories to such a level, that I end up not being part of them! I’m seeing what you see, just snapshots of what’s really going on, instead of living in that precious moment with them. I’m not really there. I’m just as good as an outsider looking in.

Memories aren’t what’s in a picture. They’re the moments. The feelings we felt, the conversations we had and the things we learnt from them. They’re stories of fun times, sad times, etched into our hearts to keep forever. Not that little, grainy, filtered photo I’ll no doubt delete in a few weeks to make room for more.

I don’t want my boys to think life is about being glued to a phone. Or a computer for that matter. I want more for them, I want them to live for the moment, dream about their future and explore this world for all the beauty it has left in it.

Memories are more important than a picture. I get the two confused and I’m far too quick to just whip out my mobile and take one after another, because I want to hold on to them forever.

I could have finished my book by now, a dream of mine to release for my 30th birthday. But due to my shit time management, I’m not even past the first chapter and my deadline is 6 months away. All hyped up, all talk.

I’m not sure what the solution is, other than just not being such a phone whore. My phone jar in the living room idea never worked. Again, just another half hearted attempt at change, that if I’m brutally honest, i never even tried.

I’m not going to be so obsessed. I’m going to continue with pictures, just not as many. I’m going to continue my blog, but do it my time, not the boys.

I’m off to make memories….