In praise of the daily mundane
We obsess with the big, special occasions and forget about the small moments that truly make up life.
Before I sat down to write this, I was watching my son in fascination. My 18-month-old boy was holding onto the tiny pedal of a toy bicycle with his little pincer grip and spinning it over and over. He didn’t have the dexterity to do this previously. He himself was also fascinated by his newfound ability—and smiling widely.
To some people, this might be a worthless detail.
It’s just a kid playing with his toy.
But over the years, I have learned to appreciate such little moments, as mundane as they might seem.
One of my contrarian beliefs is that most people over-index on special occasions but under-index on the daily mundane. They are obsessed with celebrating big rare events but don’t appreciate the small daily moments that make up most of life.
They would spend five to six figures on their wedding, to look glamorous, but not spend every day loving their spouse, cleaning the house, and looking after their kids.
They would stress over the perfect birthday party but not enjoy the everyday moments with their kids.
They would buy a big house in a nice location and post polished photos on Instagram but not make it a home or feel comfortable in it.
They would desperately want to escape to exotic locations but not appreciate their neighborhood and neighbors.
They would splurge on pricey meals but not notice what they eat and who they eat with daily.
They would sign up for a marathon but not eat healthily and exercise regularly.
It’s easy to understand why.
Psychologically, we are geared to remember the peak (and the end) of experiences more vividly. This is known as the Peak-End Rule. So, if we look back on the past year as a whole, we will recall the vacations and treats more than the everyday routines.
Unscientifically, social media like Instagram has made us want to post about our lives and make others envy us. An extravagant wedding, an over-the-top birthday party, and a fancy restaurant meal make for a much better engagement bait than the same boring breakfast. Because the algorithms favor such content, we also see only the highlights of other people’s lives, become jealous, and want the same.
Yet, it is the daily mundane that matters.
Presence, not presents
My son has been teaching me more than I have been teaching him.
My parents love to shower him with toys whenever they see him for several hours every few weeks. My wife and I rarely buy toys for him but we are almost always around him, bringing him out for walks several times a day, having meals together, or just hanging out at home.
Guess who he sticks to all the time?
Guess who he wants to carry him?
My in-laws are in the middle of the spectrum. They hang out with him more often than my parents do but less often than my wife and I do. My son will on some days want them to carry him but sometimes get upset when they approach him.
It’s not the presents. It’s the presence.
It’s not the expensive treats or special days. It’s the every day.
Note to self
As with most of my essays, this is more of a note to myself rather than a criticism of others.
My son has been teaching me to look at everything in life with a fresh perspective. To not take things around us for granted. Seeing a bus or a cement mixer always makes him happy, even when we see about 10 every day. But I still often crave the novel experiences and neglect the daily mundane.
Here are some of the ordinary little things that I have learned to cherish or have started to appreciate:
My wife and I have breakfast, lunch, and dinner together almost every day. It’s less about what we eat and more about eating together.
It is also about how we eat. We used to eat at our dining table, sit by sit, watching a show on our iPad. We switched to sitting facing each other and chatting without our devices. (Most parents will understand the luxury of eating at your own pace.)
I used to view eating a meal with our son as a battle. I had to get him to sit still, not throw food onto the floor, or not play with my food. My wife and I used to have an early dinner before picking him up from school. But we now have dinners together, even if it has been harder to eat properly. As our son learned to sit and eat with us, our meals have become more enjoyable.
I’m fortunate to work from home, so I get to commute when I want. Recently, I took my son on a long commute to the zoo, instead of taking a taxi, which surprised several parent-friends.
I can’t say I enjoy doing chores but occasionally I find keeping the laundry and tidying the house therapeutic. When my wife and I do them together, something funny almost always happens or one of us will make a joke, creating a happy memory.
I remember being frustrated at my son for taking an hour or two to fall asleep at night. I couldn’t wait for him to finally fall asleep so that I could do my stuff. But, now on some days, I enjoy lying on our bed with him as he rolls around and says random words he learned. One of my favorites is çˆ±ä½ (love you in Chinese).
He has been going to bed around 8. When I was younger, I would have enjoyed going out until late. I now rather stay at home to read a book, write an essay, or watch a show with my wife.
I have been journalling nightly for the last 470 days. When I first started, I simply jotted several bullet points about the day. These days, I often spend 10 to 15 minutes reflecting on my day, documenting my thoughts, and looking back at what I wrote on this day in previous years.
I try to help strangers when I can, often to the extent that people would ask me why bother. One day, it suddenly poured while I was waiting at the traffic junction beside a boy who was getting soaked. I shared my umbrella with him until we crossed the road and reached the bus stop. Another day, while rushing through my swim set, I stopped to help a grandfather fix his detached goggles’ strap. Just this afternoon, I moved a box of trash left along the corridor to the garbage collection area. (Maybe I’m collecting karma points because I hope others will help me, my son, my wife, or our parents when we are in a similar situation.)
In an age where fame accumulates at the extremes, a normal life is overlooked and underrated. Domesticity is not dull but life's true delight. "The most extraordinary thing in the world," Chesterton wrote, "is an ordinary man and an ordinary woman and their ordinary children."—
P.S. If you enjoyed reading this, you might also like My weird little habits to protect my time and attention.
P.P.S I wrote and edited this essay with Muse, a AI writing companion that I built. It’s free for now, and no registration is required. If you were to try it, I’d love your feedback.
Random acts of kindness = decency
Nice piece!