Why Thankful Thursdays?
Because sometimes I complain a lot. Because sometimes I sound bitter. Because often I forget to be thankful for all things that make my life wonderful...
Because in college Thursdays meant the absolute beginning of the weekend.
Because after college Thursdays meant 50 cent tacos and dollar beers at the Sports Corner.
Because when we first started living together Thursdays were the day he came home from traveling and treated me to a dinner out.
Because Thursdays morphed into softball and beers and friends and the start of labor with her.
Because when I was just adjusting to living here, in the heart of it all, Thursday mornings became my salvation.
And then life got busy and Thursday mornings became a thing of the past.
And shortly thereafter, Thursdays meant "school" - Mother's Day Out. Four hours, every Thursday, when Addie goes to school. She plays with her pals (far too many to mention here), begs for her teachers' attention (god love Miss Marilyn and Miss Gail). She paints and colors and laughs until she's exhausted. She is in bliss.
Her bliss, of course, is nothing compared to mine. Some Thursdays I scrub the house from top to bottom. Some Thursdays I sit in the backyard and make landscaping plans. Other Thursdays I hit Kohls, Meijer, Kroger, Target, Home Depot and Costco - I leisurely walk the aisles and shop without trying to entertain a mini-me. I try things on, I read the back of books, I pick things up and plot. Next Thursday I'm getting a pedicure with two other Moms in the neighborhood while our kids are at "school".
Rosy cheeks & glassy eyes - not a good sign
This Thursday? This school day that I am so thankful for? I planned to grocery shop, clean the house and prepare for my long awaited guests.
Instead, however, I was snuggled next to an en fuego toddler - at 4 a.m. She tossed and turned and whined and cried. She was like hugging a sunburn - she wanted her back rubbed, her hand held, to be sung to.
She did not go to school. Her temp was 100.3, 102.5, 99.8, 101.3. She was uncomfortable. And grouchy. And unconsolable. She wanted her mommy. She wanted my lap. My arms. My hugs.
She wanted stories, attention, songs.
She wanted to cuddle and watch movies and be taken care of.
And she fell asleep on my lap, at 6:45, whimpering.
And strangely, I was thankful.