There was nothing particularly special about this weekend.
Friday night, Alex had one of her closest, very sweet school friends spend the night. Marcus and I took them to the movies (they loved it, I actually fell asleep during it), and then when we got home, they got in bed and giggled and whispered and gossiped well into the night.
The next morrning, after breakfast and Alex's friend left, we did errands and checked in on friends and family.
Saturday night, I started a knitting project. Marcus and I watched Star Trek reruns.
Sunday, just to shake things up a bit, at the last minute we decide to go out for lunch.
Alex had a flourless Nutella cake for dessert. She approved.
And now, as I write this on Sunday evening, the house is bathed in dim lamplight. Marcus is on the computer, Alex is in her pajamas, watching Phineas & Ferb.
There are dirty dishes in the sink I need to wash.
See? Absolutely nothing particularly exciting.
And yet, as I write this, I'm realizing that I'm really grateful for this very ordinary weekend. It feels like sometimes the only days I notice are the spectacularly exciting ones, or the really dreadful ones -- the mundane days go by without a second glance, and if too many of them go by in succession, I lament the fact that my life isn't more exciting.
But tonight, I'm realizing that sometimes the mundane can be a great reminder that life is pretty good -- and that a lack of excitement doesn't have to mean boring, but can instead mean calm.