Each day I wake up. I make the bed, while Mr. Wonderful is lathering up and singing Marvin Gaye's "Heard It Through The Grape Vine" at the top of his voice....ok.....so maybe there's no singing...but for sure he is lathering up...he always smells so nice when he comes out amidst the steam that undoubtedly will accompany him since Mr. Wonderful doesn't realize that we have a very functional exhaust fan. As he steps out of the steamroom and into the bed room, we exchange our good morning smooches (and I usually sneak a peak......) and then off I go downstairs to pour the coffee that my darling has turned on only moments before gently waking me. Then like clockwork I make lunches for youngest one and Mr. Wonderful, feed and water my hairy friend Mickey and then take him out for his morning constitutional.

Around 6:30 am, my dear hubby and youngest one bound down the stairs making a bee line straight for their cups of carefully prepared caffeine love, grab their lunches and make their way out into the world for the day. Leaving me to make my way......through laundry, sweeping out the garage, grocery shopping, taking a nap....it's exhausting but someone has to do it.

Hours pass, chores come and go and then back into my world comes the man of my dreams and our youngest offspring and oh, the adventures they share...of course, it's funny the adventures they share are very similar to the adventures they shared yesterday, and the day before. Yet, though these stories sometimes get redundant, I look forward the hearing them.

We finish our meals and move onto our KP duties where I generally try to pick washing dishes...There is something relaxing and therapeutic about the water and soap and gazing out the kitchen window looking at nothing in particular. (Drying on the other hand is the worst job, in my humble opinion, especially if the drying towel is either a flour bag or that microfiber crap....:et me just tell you that I despise that material, it is incapable of drying anything and feels icky on my skin..yuck! But I digress. Back to drying...as a chore it is the only one that can actually be done without human interaction. I say, So be it! Let them dry on their own. Phew! I am so glad to get that off my chest).

Anyway, our chores are done, our jammies are on and on goes the television. I would love to share how we sit quietly together, put on a beloved program or put in a movie we've seen time and time again, but alas what generally happens is that I take over the over-sized man chair and ottoman equipped with my laptop and the hubby sprawls out on the couch armed with THE remote control. Depending on the night, we wind up jumping between the "Very Dysfunctional Testosterone Driven Family Who Builds Motorcycles", the "Gluttonous Man Who Makes A Living and Has A Show Built Around Him Engorging Himself On Ridiculously Over-Sized Artery Clogging Globs of Fat, Fried in Fat and Served With a Side of Fat" or the good old standby "Home Contractor Hero Saving The Day For Some Unfortunate Homeowner ", (a real feel good show) or some other Meaningless Brain Junk Food . Eventually, snoring starts, first as a hum then growing to a crescendo from the couch. I look up from my "Scrabble" game or my "Texas Hold 'Em" and gently nudging Sleeping Beauty, I send my dear one up to bed or as he puts it...."to warm the sheets". Back to my laptop I go..Scrabble-ing, Texas-Hold'em-ing, or just writing, until at last my eyelids become too heavy for me to hold up. After setting the coffee up for tomorrow, and turning off the lights I haul my fanny upstairs, ready to go to lala land. I take off my socks (I hate hot feet) and crawl between the sheets, which by the way are warm. I slide over past the invisible half way mark on the mattress and find my guy. I find the shoulder I have put my head on for the past 20 years. I throw my leg over the torso that has supported me for the course of our marriage. Gently, my darling's leg rocks back and forth, lulling the both of us to sleep. Our bedtime routine is as reliable as the tick-tock-tick-tock of the nightstand clock. It might even be called mundane and yet though the word itself could have an almost negative connotation, to me it means something very different.

I never actually thought about this until earlier this week. I routinely listen to talk radio and on the afternoon show with my "friend" Jay Severin, of WTKK, his guest, Dr. Keith Ablow was talking about the Chilean miners who were finally being freed from their small studio apartment-sized subterranean shelter and how they might do adjusting psychologically, emotionally after such an ordeal. Provisions, such as an aspirin regimen to prevent blood clots and sunglasses to protect their eyes from the first sunlight in more than 2 months, were taken to enable the men to safely come up the more than 2000 ft journey from their underground home in what has been called an "ultra-claustrophic rescue capsule". The good doctor was wondering what, if any, plans were in place to help these men re-adjust to everyday life. Clearly, life could never be the same as it once was. How were these 33 men going to handle life after the ordeal they had been through. One concern was about how the media would elevate these men to new heights after they had been down so low, no pun intended. As quickly as they had been lifted, they would be thrust back into a life once familiar but no longer routine. Dr. Ablow wondered aloud about the norm these men once knew and reflected that the some of most beautiful moments of our lives are often the most mundane.

Upon hearing these thoughts, I realized instantly how true those very words were. I hate to admit that I have on occasion taken MY shoulder for granted, not realizing how I've become so accustomed to the way we just "fit". I didn't realize how comforting I had come to find that gentle rocking. Mr. Wonderful has been traveling lately. Gone for 3 or 4 days (and nights) at a time, I find almost any reason not to head up to the bed. The sheets are not warm, I have no shoulder on which to lay my head. I find myself staying up as long as possible and when at last I can no longer stay awake, I peel the covers back just enough to slide in on HIS side of the bed, putting my head on HIS pillow, clutching the tee shirt that he sprayed with HIS cologne before he left. Comforted a bit, but missing our routine, seeking the everyday reassurance of our life together that I have grown to love so much.

It is true. Some of the most beautiful and loving moments of our lives are the most mundane ones and I am so glad to have them.