Today was my birthday. I let myself sleep in a bit, my girls have been sick for over a week and me too a bit. I'm tired. When my kids asked what we were doing today and I told them, my three year old cried because it wasn't her birthday. There were complaints over what was for breakfast and the school work to be done.

We did the school work and I cleaned the cats litter box and ran the dishwasher. I hugged and loved the sad children. We sat on the deck in the warmth and I tried to read for five minutes while the kids biked around and around and around and around the picnic table. I made tea for my kiddos while my own got cold, put down my own book, read stories about spring and gave cuddles.

I got birthday calls and people I love sang to me. I went for a run even though I didn't really feel up to it while Aaron made my favourite dinner. I thought about God and being loved even when I am messing up and how faith means not knowing everything. I thought about how much I love my family even when I'm tired, that my husband saves my life almost daily and how I have better friends than I ever dreamed of.

Later as we ate we drank wine and I laughed with my full heart watching my kids in hysterics at asking Siri things like 'Why do farts smell?' and 'Is it good to pick my nose?' I lit the candles three times so all the kids could have a turn blowing them out. I brushed teeth and read more stories and gave goodnight kisses. I spent time with my husband in-between comforting Haven who keeps waking crying over her sore throat.

Today was so ordinary. It was a good day to turn 35.

It's our last day at the beach. I'm sitting by the water, feeling it lap up onto my toes and legs. It leaves wet sand behind, the type I love to let run though my fingers. It starts out solid but when you lift up your hands it pours its way back into the water. I've watched and learned from my kids this trip. I studied my three year old jumping and splashing in the waves. Feeling the water on her toes, cold at first but quickly warming so she feels only the push and pull of the water. I saw her fill buckets with water, carry them up the beach and pour into a hole she dug to see the water drain away.

I waited while my just turned six year old feed and befriend one of the stray cats. She is patient day by day until, finally he purrs and rubs on her leg. Only then does she reach down and scratch his ears. I watched her paint a palm tree and a sunset and her stuffed kitty cat. Together we marvel at the sheer majestic movement of a sea turtle in the water. I recorded her dancing down the beach and laughing with glee as she glides through the waves on her board.

I sat beside my eight year old as he inhaled books. I joined in (for a while) while he boogie board for hours and hours and hours. Observed his studious yet friendly nature as he watched the local kids to learn how to spot and catch and ride the perfect waves. My heart felt full as he talked about how beautiful the sunset was one night.

Joy is how kids move and breathe and live.

We can all see this. Babies squish their avocado between their fingers and toddlers pat your face while they are nursing. Kids find the corner of mud in the garden just to feel it squish between their toes and dance with no thought of their skill.

I'm watching and letting them inspire me.

So I swim far out into the sea and dive down over and over again. The water pillows my body and caresses my face. As I go lower the water gets colder and I marvel at how I can feel the levels of temperature change. I swim as deep as I can go before my lungs feel heavy. Then I shoot back up and my face breaks the surface. As I gasp for breath the salt water stings my eyes. I float on my back and watch my toes above the water while the sea sparkles on forever. I sing and cry and feel alive.

I'd love to hear what brings you joy? Do you feel content with the amount of joy in your life or like me, could you use some rediscovery?