The ordinary, everyday brings me to tears sometimes with its very routine-ness. The over and again, rinse and repeat, wake up and do it all over again laundry and dishes and what to eat.

The toys that will always get strewn everywhere and be tripped over.  And the girlish joyful exuberance that will wake a sleeping brother.  The clothes piled here and there.  The clothes that are outgrown. The clothes that need sorted.

The up in the middle of the night and the teething and pottying and washing and cooking.  It’s enough to overwhelm a mom living in the middle of an ordinary day.

But all it takes is a gold star, the story of a little box of mementos for an unknown child, or a conversation in Wal-Mart with a couple who would give anything to have children scattering toys over their floors.  And I’m in tears again over my beautiful, beloved ordinary.

Sticky hands, chubby cheeks, too many in the bed, blankets dragged through dirt and dust bunnies, his shoes there by the door, imaginary food to try, tea parties to pour, Cinderella ball gowns to button.

Ordinary, yes.  But oh so extra-ordinary, too.  If only I remember to see it that way.

Five-Minute Friday: Ordinary