seeing beautiful

I think when I blogged more I was better at seeing the beautiful things. I looked for them. I took pictures of them. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't trying to put on a facade or paint a false picture. I am a naturally positive person, and I found a lot of real joy and satisfaction out of finding the beauty in an ordinary day. Not to say that everyday was always beautiful. But even recording those uglier moments felt peaceful somehow. Like it turned them from an unpleasant experience to simply an experience, and then time worked its magic and now even those ugly moments are beautiful.

Writing (almost) daily forces me to be present. Instagram does it a little. But mostly I post and forget. But to write about a small moment takes time and craft. I think about it. The words fill my head and trickle through the day as I think about it. It causes me to stop and watch and listen and think.

I don't do that enough.

I was reading "Oh the places you'll go" to Katie tonight and I realized that I am in the "Waiting Place."

I am waiting for Dave's crazy schedule to lighten up.
I am waiting for us to move.
I am waiting til we can start seriously looking for a house.
I am waiting for such and such kid to get out of such and such phase.

Every day I am just waiting.

And some of those things I am looking forward to, but the answer to the slump-y, waiting, staying feeling is to be present. To watch as the kids learn and grow. To look Jack in the eye when he shows me how he got 100% on the test that he felt was pretty hard. To look at the pictures Ana takes with real attention. To pull Katie up on my lap and read her stories and tickle her.  To do puzzles with Charlie on the living room floor. My kids hear "just a minute" far too often, and usually for very unimportant reasons. Not only am I missing out, but they are too. They need their mother to see them in all their ordinary glory.  Writing makes me accountable for the day and the moments that I notice.

He started in the stroller, and I didn't think twice about his shoe-less, pantsless person.  Katie and Jack also joined us (running way up ahead).  Katie was in her nightgown and my flip-flops. Ordinary glory.