As I type this I’m trying to find a spot for my coffee in on a desk full of remote control devices. The remote control helicopter is being charged in my computer’s USB port that I have specifically reserved for my Kindle in my mind. No one asks a mother what she has reserved in her mind, which is an irritation.
My husband is feeling sick, the boys have colds, the baby has a tummy ache brought on when I started feeding him homemade baby food. I’m trying not to take it personally, but a trip to buy prunes is on the horizon. As a result of the baby’s tummy ache, I have discovered that carrots are a constipating food (?) according to Google…and I have not slept for two days. Well, I’ve slept, but only in moderation.
It’s Monday. On my counter is an empty yogurt jar, a pan, a jar of baby food, four empty bottles of wine to be recycled, dish soap, cereal box, tinfoil (?), two cereal bowls, two sippy cups, and a Darth Vader talking mask. I have some cleaning stuff I should be doing. The cat litter is getting full. This day could be poopy. It’s time to reign in my attitude.
I’m thankful for night baths. For the glow-in the dark squid that saves us from the deadly shark. For the little boy hands that hold mysterious creatures and the little boy brains that invent the violent and dangerous adventures.
I’m thankful for cereal faces and “pills” on our shirt. For people who don’t like to spill milk and eat breakfast in the nude. For the milk beard and the mischievous grin.
I’m thankful for baby faces that make baby feeding a hilarious event that takes forever. For the “mmm” sound he makes when he likes what he’s eating. For bibs.
I’m thankful for humorous packaging on less than exciting products. For the smiley plastic faces that greet me when I open the fridge now.
I’m thankful for green in winter, for green in my brown 1984 kitchen, for the hardiness of spider plants. Live long and prosper humble house plant.