I've felt clumsy and dim-witted lately -- never able to say quite what I mean. Getting all flubbed up in conversation. Feeling anti-social when it's time to be social. And the bug bites I've been plagued by? I can't recall anything so maddening -- my arms, legs, neck and chest are peppered with tiny ITCHY bites. It seems absolutely inane that "no see-um" bugs, (insects that are literally almost invisible,) could make my an itchy hell of my otherwise pleasant life, but they have... (sigh *scratch,* *scratch*)
...trying to feel gratitude despite. Sometimes succeeding.
Here's what really helps: listening to Henry's prayers. His gratitude is simple and pure. And he feels it for many things--his daddy, me, the fact that we got to go to the spray park, his new basketball shorts (which, incidentally, he has worn every day since purchase. Evidence of his gratitude, I guess?)
He reminds me to feel thankful for more. And for more of the small things.
And the sudsy good time we had washing the car yesterday.
And this lovely song I discovered recently.
And the quiet story time he and I get together every day before his nap.
And the quiet, alone time I get when he does, in fact, sleep.
And the surprised giggle we had in the Costco bathroom yesterday when I discovered he had foregone the underwear step in the dressing process that morning. (It's a box of chocolates when they start dressing themselves -- you never know what you're gonna get. We get some, shall we say "interesting?" outfits these days. The combinations are eclectic, but the autonomy is lovely.)
"Why aren't you wearing undies?" I asked.
And then came the doubtful inquiry, "Well. Are YOU wearing undies, mom?"
I was happy to tell him that I've made a daily habit of wearing undies.
Hopefully he'll learn.*
(Resume gratitude list:)
New, 2" faux wood, white blinds -- ten (thousand) steps up from the dingy, yellowed mini blinds they replaced
The rain that washed the heavy humidity out of the air last night and let me wake up to the calm smell of wet cement
The 44-linked paper chain Henry and I fashioned yesterday afternoon to help us count down to baby girl. "She's coming in July" has been a very nebulous answer for a three year old's daily curiosities about his sister's arrival. Now we have paper representations of every day that stands between now and that much-anticipated day.
*This just in: After patting Henry's bum (clad, of course, in his basketball shorts,) I confirmed suspicions that he is, once again, underwear-less.