Is this what has become of me, of my life? Sweeping up cereal? So. Much. Cereal. . .
A cloud bumped up right next to reality. . .
I glance at my rising stats before stooping down to wipe the spilled cereal and milk now plastering itself to my kitchen floor. I make my way over to attempt a tackle at the never ending pile of laundry. I hear happy squeals coming from the kitchen and smile. This is the first time today the two of them haven’t been fighting. I go to see the merriment. It is my daughter taking handfuls of cereal out of the box, tossing it like confetti across the room, my son buckled over in laughter.
I use one eye to look around at the disaster. Perhaps if I use one eye the mess will only be half as bad? I grab a breathe as well as a broom.
The last crumb is finally swept and I turn on the music. Loud. The kid tunes begin to blare, and I start to dance–foolishly dance. I let myself go as I leap and twirl and swing my loves in the air. I feel my worries, my stresses, fade into the background. My children squeal and laugh, catching me with their smiling eyes.
I am suddenly out of breath in awe of them.
Of this. Of life. Ordinary, everyday, cereal overloaded life.
I catch a glimpse of my computer out of the corner of my eye–the computer with the rising stats. I continue to dance, for I realize this moment, right now, is my true cloud nine.
Life has its fleeting occasions of thrill and excitement, of dreams becoming reality, your “lucky break” shining through. Mostly though, it is full with the ordinary moments of the everyday–the miraculous, beautiful everyday. If only we stop to realize.
It is grabbing us by the cheeks between two sticky hands. It is in kissing those hands’ boo boos and holding them tight to cross the street. It is in days of laughter and nights of crying; crayon covered walls and yogurt flavored hair. It is in pulling out this same hair and reminding ourselves to take one more deep breathe.
It is whispering its beauty in our ear, “I love you momma.”
Do you hear it?
We may not win the Nobel Prize, or shake the president’s hand. We have been given the miraculous to hold each day. If only we stop to realize.
This is my forever cloud nine: everyday, ordinary life with my loves. I am never climbing down.