mundane life is beautiful

I read an article this week that reminds parents that Childhood itself is magical - it doesn't take anything to make it so. My favorite part  poses the questions, "are we creating a generation of people who cannot find the beauty in the mundane?  Do we want to teach our children that the magic of life is something that comes beautifully gift-wrapped -- or that magic is something you discover on your own?"

It made me think about my own life, as I thought my mind wandered, as it usually does, to a semi-related tangent - can I find the beauty in the mundane? Truth be told... sometimes, it's a struggle, but honestly, yes I can.  I do realize the things that make my life so rewarding, fulfilling and happy are not the trips to Costa Rica, but the moments when I recognize the beauty in the mundane things in my real, everyday life.  My days are filled with the same repetitive tasks day in and day out, but for some reason this week - deep breath - I looked up from folding the laundry in my room and saw this...

...all three kids momentarily self entertaining -bel coloring -jack making sound effects as he ran around -Sage jumping (a great love of hers) while narrating her actions, "jump, jump, jump, jump, jump"

I can't help being anything but blissfully proud (and shocked) that Sage sat on the counter and ate a bunch of baby carrots and ranch for breakfast this morning...

Automatically makes me feel like a good mom, any time veggies are consumed in my home.  Also, this girl makes me feel like a good mom.  This Sage/age/stage is my favorite - she can walk, her vocabulary is exploding right now, so she can tell me what she wants and doesn't want, she has a sense of humor, she loves to cuddle, she still takes a nice long nap, that I can strategically place almost anywhere in my day and by golly, she just loves me with that pure, no filters, no judgements, fierce, loyal toddler love that makes me feel like nothing else in the whole world matters.  Any time spent with this girl is a beautiful thing.

Another day recovering from a poopy diaper change and returning to preparing my seminary lesson, I looked out the window and saw this...

...Bel, creating something with nature's art supplies (a great love and talent of hers).  For a while, I sat and watched, thinking of how sad it makes me that in the last year she has grown 5 inches, lost 4 teeth and has no problem painting her nails and gabbin it up about boys with her 8 and 10 year old gal pals, Annie and Hallie Warner.  But in moments like this there she is - my girl, using her imagination, free from school and maturing and growing up too fast, just suspended in some kind of fantasy.  

Lately I feel like I might be losing her.  We spend so much time power struggling and debating that I wonder if it is driving us apart. (yes, at 6 she is insanely adept at trying to talk her way out of, over, around and through anything - I fear the teenage years as this skill finely hones itself)  Frequently our interactions are limited to meeting daily needs and nagging.  

Eventually she looked up and invited me to join her - so I did.  

More often I need to remember that she just wants me to take some time to be suspended in those moments together - so we built our first fairy house.  

 (it says... Fairies Welcome)

It was magical.  

Another day, Jack and Sage had followed me around for a couple hours on a productivity blitz.  It was awesome - they both wanted to help me scrub the toilet (nurture this desire, i told myself, nurture this for years to come).  When it was time for a break I knew just the activity for my boy.  Very often Jack will mix things (a great love of his), usually pricey edibles from the fridge and pantry - so this time I decided to control the "gredients" of the mixture.  I gave him water, food coloring, droppers, 6 containers and a little freedom to do "spearamints" - he was in heaven. Heaven.

I participated and documented, then returned to the productivity blitz.  I couldn't help but peek out the windows periodically just to watch.  

Jack has been challenging me lately with his inflammatory response to... almost everything.  It's crazy what can make him fly off the handle.  I think he is just going through that stage of life where he is starting to feel emotions in a significant way and he just doesn't know how to handle them.  Anger is a very apparent emotion in his repertoire but on the opposite end of the spectrum he is incredibly sweet and sincere and loving, with a desire to do what is good and right.  As I spent this time with and watching him, I got to see the real Jack, purely enjoying the moment.  It was lovely.

Lastly, during my perpetual quest of picking up clutter, I found this...

it's a formerly decapitated nerf dart, that has been sutured back together by my sweet husband.  He walked in and chuckled as I was taking this photo - To him it was a humorous toy rescue mission.  What he didn't realize is that I was having a real emotional moment over this nerf dart -sometimes more than receiving direct love and service, I love seeing the evidences thereof when I am alone - this way I can absorb it and enjoy it.  To me this dart showed me that someone else actually cares - cares that there is something on the floor, cares that it is broken, cares enough to fix it.  And the sutures - my goodness, it's true, I feel silly weeping over such a thing - but I saw those sutures and just wept with pride.  I am so fully engulfed by my own responsibilities and so far removed from Ryan's, that I feel a little disconnected.  When he comes home he steps away from the medical world, swoops in and focuses on us - he refreshes our home with new energy, gives me and the kids all kinds of attention.  He helps me with my responsibilities, but I do not swoop into the hospital to assist or observe him in any way and sometimes, I almost forget that he's a doctor.  And then I saw the sutures - and I remembered the late nights, the early mornings, the all nighters, the knots tied in strings taped to his desk, the consistent, dedicated studying, the sacrifices of personal desires, the drawer full of scrubs in his dresser, the x-rays on the photo roll of his phone, his quiver of amazing OR stories, I see the steady hands at practice and suddenly those silly nerf dart sutures become so much more.  To me they are the evidence of love expressed through hard work, years of hard work (a great talent of his).  

In between these moments, there were break downs (of adults and children), anger management moments, bodily fluid clean up, 40 minute bed time routines that drag on and on... and on, laundry, house cleaning, shells & cheese and cereal both made the dinner menu, whining, trimming raw chicken (blech), and some serious feelings of inadequacy wondering if I am making any progress whatsoever in teaching my kids how to work, BUT at the end of the week - deep breath - I feel like it was a darn good week, pretty chock full of magic and beauty if you ask me.  Oh how I love these people - they make my life so beautiful.