Our Extraordinary Ordinary

Happy, happy birthday to this beautiful, little soul. Our sweet Crosby has the heart of Jesus beating in his chest. He sits with me and pats my back when I’m throwing up in the bathroom. He cups my face with his tiny hands while we’re sleeping side by side. He’ll look at me in my pineapple pajamas—with my hair flung up in a towel and my face covered in a mud mask—and say with complete sincerity, “Mama! You look beautiful!”. Cros is and always has been an extraordinary little human. I still can’t believe we get to do life with him every day.

Parenting is a really hard calling. It’s unpredictable and exhausting and all-encompassing (Most days, I look like Tom Hanks in Cast Away). And we’re just a few years in—I can’t even wrap my head around the decades of parenthood still to come! (Although, let’s be real. Toddlerhood is CRAZY. If I never had to clean up another Target aisle after a tantrum-induced Goldfish massacre, I’d count myself #blessed.) But I digress. When I stop to zoom out on the big picture, it’s impossible to miss: THESE ARE THE GOOD OLD DAYS. These are the days that shape us and refine us and make us hardcore, belly laugh. These are the days we get to teach our children how to see the world with wonder and adventure and empathy, only to re-learn those lessons ourselves. These are the days that the gospel—the concepts and scriptures I’ve studied a hundred other times in my life—become more real and tangible than they’ve ever been before. Yes, these days will become our sweetest memories. So while they’re still today, I’m gonna snuggle with my boys. And eat birthday cake. And have a water gun fight. And tell them I love them way too many times. And watch Peppa Pig. And memorize every. single. tiny. detail of our extraordinary, ordinary life.