I like the simple things. The simple things are what move my day forward, give me the boost to last through the not-so-simple things. And today my day was full of the simple things. The kind that remind me just how blessed I am and just how happy (and on some days, how happy I should be).
Like the fact that the baby let me sleep eight straight hours without interruption both last night and the night before, which is a miracle. Knock on wood.
Like the fact that I was able to pump some breast milk this morning after feeling down in the dumps all week about losing my milk. (Turns out I'm not. Turns out kids go through growth spurts, or something like that.)
Like the fact that the boys both wanted the same breakfast this morning, which makes my life that much easier.
Like the fact that Dave took over disciplining a very strong-willed four-year-old on his lunch hour, just to give me a break from it. (I think slamming the child's door and saying the naughtiest of naughty words under my breath is a cue that it's his turn.)
Like the swelling emotion all throughout me, emerging in the form of chills and goosebumps, just from watching a moving, heartfelt dance routine. (Thank you, So You Think You Can Dance.)
Like blond curls and blue eyes, that remind me children are beautiful angels and not demons.
Like the thirty minutes I got to myself to write today.
Like freshly cut grass, done by none other than my husband.
Like freshly cut grass, done by none other than my husband.
Like phrases from my two-year-old, such as, "Mommy, you get spanking," because they show me just how far he's come in his speech.
Like the precious swatting of a tiny hand on your behind after said phrase.
Like the fact that my four-year-old can still hug me and tell me he loves me after I've just punished him in the worst way I could punish him (taking away his computer privileges).
Like my two-year-old saying, "I you, too," because that's how he says he loves me.
Like the fact that my four-year-old can still hug me and tell me he loves me after I've just punished him in the worst way I could punish him (taking away his computer privileges).
Like my two-year-old saying, "I you, too," because that's how he says he loves me.
Like cold cereal for dinner.
Like the visit of a good friend, because it reminds me I'm an adult and can still have adult conversation.
Like my husband retelling the story of how we met, even though I've heard it a million times (after all, I was there), because the part about how he felt when he first looked at me makes my heart skip a beat and makes me feel, in some small way, a part of some romantic movie.
But mostly, it reminds me that aside from the frumpy sweats, the greasy ponytail, the stretchy tummy skin, the PB&J sandwiches, and the yelling mommy voice, I was once--and maybe even still am--a beautiful, strong woman, who has the love of a caring, amazing man.
The simple things.
