I was thinking today while my son was taking a bath, and something dawned on me: my son doesn’t get dirty enough. Some times we get all caught up in these Pinterest-looking houses, that we forget that’s not always real life. Real life is trailing mud into the house because you were running in the backyard barefoot. Or a puddle of water on the floor because you were busy making snow angels outside in that fresh, fresh white fluffy snow. Or how about the pile of clothes on the floor as your toddler walks in and undresses himself without a care in the world. Tripping on jackets and boots on the floor is a blessing. It’s those tiny details we forget when we get lost of in other people’s lives. It’s those tiny details we take for granted, and it’s those tiny details that makes strings of some of the most wonderful memories.
My son doesn’t get dirty enough because I’m one step behind him nagging and cleaning up the trail of fun he leaves behind. I’m picking up the jacket and boots, I’m immediately there with paper towels to clean up the puddle. But here’s the thing, my son isn’t going to care about having the perfect looking house. He doesn’t care what it looks like, he cares about the smiles and giggles and memories inside. But I don’t have to miss out. I can find that balance, I can make a mess and still not feel like a mess. It’s okay to let some things go. Let yourself be that free spirit, let yourself be that child and make snow angels. Run barefoot and embrace the moment. And soak in those tiny details, like the way he struggles to take off his shoes, the way he makes this silly grin like it should be such an easy task but yet it’s like climbing a mountain. Success! As he tosses them on the floor, he doesn’t care as to where they land. He lives in the moment, and I think we can learn a lot from that. From the innocence and freshness of a child’s heart. So free-spirited. I want him to always be that way!
So from now on, I’m dedicating more time for dirty hands and dirty feet. Because to me, dirty hands and dirty feet remind me of a pure, rich childhood filled with raw and real memories.
“One of the luckiest things that can happen to you in life is, I think, to have a happy childhood” Agatha Christie
What reminds you of a happy childhood?
Isn’t there something so simple & magical about black and white photographs? It’s as if they make time stand still even more than a photograph already does. Frozen in place. It makes you believe that our days are never ending, that we get to stay forever in this calm, infiniteness magical moment. Where there is comfort, familiarity, and most importantly peace.