It is always going to be there...dirt that is.
I couldn't remember when the last time was that I had mopped the kitchen floor (it had been months...yep, month(s)...plural.) We sweep the floor every day but it was high time to break out the mop. I didn't feel obligated to do it today, I simply felt motivated to do it.
The kids had just come in from playing outside in the snow, stopped for some hot cocoa and scurried upstairs to continue the playing. The day had felt so relaxing...why not take some time to finally get reacquainted with the mop?
As I swept the floor in preparation I suddenly stopped.
A smile came upon my face as I gazed on that dirt.
Dirt that held some of the stories from that day so similar to most of our days in this home.
The crayons that always seem to be broken.
The grape that rolled off the table at lunch time.
The cheerio that escaped from breakfast
and somehow didn't get crushed into a million pieces.
The many perler beads that represent the hours spent crafting
and the numerous times a day I get asked, "mom, can you iron these?"
I didn't feel one ounce of regret over that dirt pile. I didn't feel one moment of frustration of having to clean up after my kids...again. Instead this time I knew that this was one of those moments. Those moments where they say...
"Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back
and realize they were the big things." ~Robert Brault
While earlier in the day I might have been complaining about having another set of perler bead creations to iron. In this moment I remembered how precious it is to be called, "mom."
What stories would your dirt piles tell?