Ordinary to Extraordinary

Luke is peeking at Lily from behind the chair at the kitchen counter.  He is saying 'tickle me' and giggling as Lily creeps slowly and gets her chubby little fingers close to his arm ready to materialize his request.  She gets close, then scurries back to me.  I watch this scene transpire in our home a little before 7:30 in the morning.

It's a simple, ordinary morning.  Luke is finishing his mini pancakes, Lily is talking to Jude as I remind her numerous times to 'only touch his nose' (not his eyes or mouth), and I am sitting in the chair pumping milk and attempting to keep h-e-double hockey sticks from breaking loose while I am attached to a machine and unable to put out any fires until I get four ounces in two small bottles.

This ordinary scene is my everyday.  It's my Monday through Friday.  It's my life.  Most days I do my best to give attention to each one of my babes individually, look them in the eyeballs and talk to them, and try and not loose my cool when the words 'bird poop' are said thirty-eight times during lunch. If all those things happen, it's an over the top day.   

The good days, the Monday through Fridays are making up a big chunk of my life. When I watch this early morning scene, something from within me shouts at me to pay attention and take a deep breath.  I am gently reminded how this life is fleeting.  I am reminded that one day (far too soon) these babies will fly off and find their own nests.  I am reminded to stop and look at these moments with fresh eyes and a renewed sense of wonder.  I am reminded to put down the camera for a moment and start using my memory to cement these everyday happenings in my brain.  I am reminded to take time and marvel at Luke's contagious giggle and savor the way Lily looks right into Jude's blue eyes and tells him she loves him.    

These ordinary days can get away from me, they can blur one to another and somedays I wake up and try and remember what in the world we did with all the hours in all the days.  And I can't.  It's not because I have a terrible memory (although I have that, too).  It's because I allow all the not-so-special days to be just that, ordinary.  And when I really think about it, they are anything but ordinary.

The days at home with my babies mean something.  I want to make the ordinary days extraordinary for my littles.  Not by doing the most Pinterest-worthy activity or taking them on an excursion every day of the week, but by making sure they know that their momma enjoys them.  I want them to know I look forward to seeing them every morning and treasure the good night hugs and kisses I get before bed each night.  I want them to feel incredibly known by me and their daddy.  I want them to know they are loved and cherished in a big, big way.

I want their childhood memories to be ones of laughter and love and joy and whimsy.  I believe it is possible, especially with an awareness to not just do the 'right things' everyday, but to do the silly things, the uncomfortable things, the things my babes will someday look back and remember.  I want to do all that I can to give them the kind of childhood that's hard to put into words because it summons up feelings of joy and home and authentic love.  The kind they will want to give their kids someday.  That is my truest hope and dream. And sometimes, all it takes is a giggle and a deep breath to stop and remember these ordinary days are really, truly extraordinary.

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