The details

I mean, it is a thing getting out the door with these two. Finding shoes, catching moving bodies, tying laces, addressing bad attitudes, herding tiny people towards the door, carseats, seat belts, diaper bag, grocery list. Some days I am sweating before we even open the door to leave. Because it is a WHOLE THING, just leaving the house. I saw a mom pushing a cart similar to mine and she had two wee ones in the little green car and an infant carrier in the basket with another tiny human and I probably stared too long. In awe. I wanted to high five her for making it through the door. And buy her a coffee. And a day at the spa. Because it is a WHOLE THING.

I've had this on going thought, these last few weeks as I've lifted 35 pound people in and out of carseats. The beautiful days, and the peaceful days and the really, really brutal, ugly days and the mundane, every-day days. They are the days that make up our whole story. Mine and my boys. The ins and outs of car seats. The loading and unloading of the dishwasher. The brushing of teeth and the cutting of sandwiches. These normal things make up our story.

Our story is in the details.

Our story is in the way their heads look over the top of my buggy. And the way their little voices sound as they honk their horns and rev their engines as I drive them around the "market" as Oliver calls it.  Its in the little grunts and fusses Chap makes when his foot gets stuck in his seat. It's in the incessant "Mommy, can I...?" questions that follow me all around the store.

It's the "Mommy, can I buy?" that is always asked as we check out and Oliver wants to help me swipe my credit card.

It's the giggles as I push the cart across the bumps leading out of the store.

And the way Chap holds his hair on windy days.

Our story is in the details.

I want to remember the weight of their bodies during this season. The way they felt in my arms as lifted them up and into car seats, and the many rounds of The Wheels on the Bus we sing to Chap to keep him awake on the drive.

I'm struck by how much I treasure the details. 

Details that are easily forgotten, too normal to even notice.

Except, I want to notice them.

I want to document them.

I want to slow down and linger with them.

Because our story is in the details.