The Unremarkable Remarkables

I do not think that I am of note. My average day is full of things that most would consider mundane. Feed, Clean, Repeat. But lately I have found the most profound significance in what I do.

Tonight I made Homemade Beef Stew. And as it bubbled at 5:30, I could hear my kids playing downstairs. I set the table with candles. The house was generally clean. The kids joined me and I told them stories. Doug came home. I was excited to sit down to a meal together, excited for their reactions. Downright giddy in fact.

And then...!!!...nothing. Normalcy. They devoured their dinner like they usually do and scattered in their various directions. I wasn't mad, persay. I don't expect people to fall at my feet just because I made dinner. It just struck me how unremarkable it was to them that I had done this thing. As I washed the dishes I said aloud, "Do you know what I would have given to have my mother make me homemade beef stew?" It wasn't meant to be a rhetorical question but my family took it as such.

I continued the dishes and my internal dialogue. "Do they not know that it took me three hours to make homemade stew, rye bread, and greek yogurt parfaits? Do they not know that I painstakingly counted the calories, protein, vitamins, fat, carbohydrates, and probiotics to make sure that they had a perfectly balanced meal- even substituting things when necessary while not losing any flavor? Do they know that what I did is..." And then it struck me what it is that I did. I did something remarkable. And no, they don't know. And that's okay. Because making dinner is an unremarkable thing to most people. And the fact that they don't know...that I make it seem seamless...is in itself remarkable. It means I'm giving them freedom, a childhood. It means they aren't burdened with things that aren't theirs. It means I am being the kind of mom that I want to be.

And that is profoundly significant.

And remarkable.