Yet again, I am reminded that it is the ordinary, day to day, comings and goings, waking and sleeping, working and playing, cooking and wiping faces, feeding small mouths and patting little bums. It is in these ordinary days that the extraordinary task of mothering happens.  Some say if you blink you might miss it, but I disagree.  It's not a matter of seizing enraptured moments, it's perhaps a matter of recognizing that this plate of dinner (which might be rejected again by those sweet little mouths) is one plate of dinner in a year of dinners, which strung together makes up a childhood.  And it's all really profound if you stop once in a while to really think about it.