Magic in Mediocrity- Keeping Your Eyes Open
Most days I am a mediocre mother. The visions of heroic motherhood...Madonna and Child...the extraordinary, grand romantic significance of being a life-giving vessel...quickly gives way to reality the first time your baby pees in your face.
Most days are just exactly normal. At best. I wake up with big plans for all that I will accomplish, and end up completing about one half of the first thing on my list. I waste a lot of time scrolling on my phone, staring off into space, and forgetting what I’m supposed to be doing while the kids run around in their pajamas until noon. They eat cereal anywhere from one to five times a day, half of which ends up on the floor and splattered on the table legs.
I force them to play outside every day, do chores, and eat at least one vegetable. I do a lot of nagging, a little yelling, and only the occasional swearing. I try to look each one of them in the eye, in a real way, every day, to make sure I still know who’s in there. Sometimes I’m playful, full of weird dances and embarrassing voices. Sometimes my sense of humor is my superpower and all their annoying antics roll off my back with a chuckle. And sometimes my blood is boiling, chuckles are a thing of the distant past, and I’m just waiting for a victim to come along and say the wrong thing. They always come. And they always do.
I feel proud of myself for starting a load of laundry, but only remember to switch it into the dryer about 50% of the time. I don’t bathe them or cut their hair often enough, but I do talk to them with real intent, and remind them how much they matter in this big and busy world. My hugs are abundant, and “I love you’s” fall freely from my lips.
I rarely take them on grand adventures or plan pinterest-worthy anything. But we find adventure in simplicity as we take walks up the road to visit baby sheep and gather special rocks along the way.
I’m remembering a particular night last summer. After a very LONG day I served frozen pizzas for dinner on the porch. There was something sort of magical about this ordinary evening. The light was golden, and the shadows long. Simon and Garfunkel played on my phone and a warm summer breeze blew through our hair. I lounged on the porch watching the boys play in the grass, taking turns trying to get a laugh out of baby brother. We talked, read books, and appreciated every bite of our mediocre pizza. This, I thought...this is anything but ordinary. This is everything. The half finished laundry, the useless to-do list, the myriad of ways I fell short that day...all of it slipped away in this one sun-kissed moment.
I think it’s possible that the real meaning of life is hidden in these moments. If we are constantly searching for some romanticized ideal of what a ‘great life’ should be, we are missing out on the potency of the very real and rich world moving all around us daily. Can we slow down enough to be present? Can we push aside the expectations of everything we ‘should’ be doing and just be exactly in the present, appreciating what is? Can we let go of our self-induced pressures to be perfect, and embrace the raw, wonderful truth of our ordinariness? And know, really know, that it is enough? Because it is. Enough. In fact, it’s more than enough. Magic, mystery, and beauty abound in mediocrity for those who have eyes to see.
Sending Love,
Denise
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