“I’m tired! My knee hurts!”
We love the movie “Up” at our house. Jon and I went to see it on our 5th anniversary (our first time leaving Kate!) and it is a sentimental movie for us both, Kate loves the balloons, and Drew just likes everything. The other night as I was making dinner, Jon skipped through different parts of “Up” to keep the kids entertained during the bewitching hour. You know that time, moms. Typically about 4-6 pm. And it’s usually really ugly.
strewn across the table and floor eaten, kids were bathed and in bed, and Jon and I watched more of the movie. At one point, Russell says to Mr. Fredrickson (How do you spell his name, anyway? IMDB has three different spellings listed!), “That might sound boring, but I think the boring stuff is the stuff I remember the most.” And that got me thinking… about my childhood and about parenting my own children.
When I was a little girl, I frequently tagged along with my dad on Saturday evenings when he went to church to prepare communion. He taught me exactly how the bread needed to be cut and how to pour the juice into those tiny cups. With no air bubbles floating on the top. We sliced the bread from the bottom so it would flawlessly break in half on Sunday morning when the pastor introduced the sacrament. We listened to oldies in the car and talked about absolutely nothing in particular. These were not events of epic proportions. It might sound boring. But, it’s the boring stuff that I remember the most. Time with my dad. I was just happy to be by his side. I have really special memories of “boring” things with my mom, sister, and brother, too.
I sat on the floor the other day, talking to two children who cannot talk back to me. And that’s what I do for most of my day. Well, one’s vocabulary is rapidly increasing these days… Anyway, we put together a puzzle and we were counting animals and naming them and making animal sounds. We sang songs about animals and we pulled the puzzle apart. And then we rolled around on the floor and giggled a lot. And then we had a dance party. Yup, a 6 month old, an 18 month old, and a 28 year old. BO-RING. Right? Maybe. But those times are most precious to my heart. They won’t remember them. But I do and I will. Perhaps the “level of boring” is simply in the eye of the beholder.
In my efforts to be a mom who doesn’t conform to the standards of this world and the parenting pressures around me, I’ve learned to soak in in the “boring” times. Not everything has to be a grandiose planned event for entertainment purposes. Sometimes it’s special to just be boring. It IS the stuff that we often remember most.
What “boring” things do you remember most from your childhood or from raising your own kids?