Thanksgiving Gifts
Yep. It's 6.38, and both the boys are in bed. And before you go crying foul and telling me what cruel parents we must be, Littles asked to go to bed. We just cheerily acquiesced to his request. So my loving husband asked me if I needed to write tonight, and I admitted that I probably did, and he prodded me in the direction of the computer since the kitchen is clean and it's early enough that I can blog and we can still watch The Avengers before bed. Our lives are terribly exciting.
I was going to write about Thanksgiving and how mad I am that I didn't take a picture of my three handsome men, and then share with you a few of the thousand gifts I've recorded over the year (Ann Voskamp, anyone?), but I realized that three out of my four journals containing my 1110 gifts from the last 11 months (I do not make these numbers up) are in the guest room where Littles is currently sleeping (we're trying out solo sleeping for Tiny tonight), so that's was a no go until miraculously Littles decided he wasn't asleep and wanted to share something unintelligibly sleepy with Mommy who took that moment to quickly swipe aforementioned journals. It was a moment of brilliance. Also, I think I write about Ann Voskamp a little too often.
Anyway, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, here are a few of the wonderful gifts I have been thankful for this year:
25. Crescent-moon eyelash shadows on round cheeks.
85. Watching the Man love on newborn Tiny.
99. Juice, even juice that's only 15% juice.
153. Colouring purple and orange spotted dinosaurs.
221. Belly buttons! Or rather, detached umbilical cords.
240. Daddy-son lunch dates. More specifically, being married to a daddy who wants to take his son out on lunch dates.
359. The sound of my sisters laughing.
367. Learning to say thank you, even for deployments. (Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given me? John 18:116)
420. Band-aids. Because even if they result in blood curdling screams from Littles, they keep the blood in.
443. Fourteen dead caterpillars. You'd think they would learn.
568. A stopped up kitchen sink that forced me to stop, drink some coffee, wait for the plumber, and focus on Christ.
575. Making military mistakes. Because, yes, I'm still a clueless hippy.
634. Littles calling the Man "Captain Honey".
645. Tiny's brother-proof skull.
793. "Mommy, why did you put clothes on me again?"
916. A long "England" walk with the dog, tiny bits of mist on my face, when my heart is breaking.
963. That gratitude begets gratitude.
1000. Pretend naps and having my brown eyed boy pat down my blanket and say, "I like you, Mommy."
1054. That there was nothing but black coffee in the travel mug that sat in the car for a week.
1110. God's incredible Never Stopping, Never Giving Up, Unbreaking, Always and Forever Love.
And on that note, I'm going to go kick the dog off the love seat, curl up with the Man, and watch The Avengers (yeah!), possibly with a slice of apple pie (also yeah!). Happy Thanksgiving, and try hard not to cry about the lack of a cute picture. I know it's hard. Frankly, I'm upset too.
I was going to write about Thanksgiving and how mad I am that I didn't take a picture of my three handsome men, and then share with you a few of the thousand gifts I've recorded over the year (Ann Voskamp, anyone?), but I realized that three out of my four journals containing my 1110 gifts from the last 11 months (I do not make these numbers up) are in the guest room where Littles is currently sleeping (we're trying out solo sleeping for Tiny tonight), so that's was a no go until miraculously Littles decided he wasn't asleep and wanted to share something unintelligibly sleepy with Mommy who took that moment to quickly swipe aforementioned journals. It was a moment of brilliance. Also, I think I write about Ann Voskamp a little too often.
Anyway, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, here are a few of the wonderful gifts I have been thankful for this year:
25. Crescent-moon eyelash shadows on round cheeks.
85. Watching the Man love on newborn Tiny.
99. Juice, even juice that's only 15% juice.
153. Colouring purple and orange spotted dinosaurs.
221. Belly buttons! Or rather, detached umbilical cords.
240. Daddy-son lunch dates. More specifically, being married to a daddy who wants to take his son out on lunch dates.
359. The sound of my sisters laughing.
367. Learning to say thank you, even for deployments. (Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given me? John 18:116)
420. Band-aids. Because even if they result in blood curdling screams from Littles, they keep the blood in.
443. Fourteen dead caterpillars. You'd think they would learn.
568. A stopped up kitchen sink that forced me to stop, drink some coffee, wait for the plumber, and focus on Christ.
575. Making military mistakes. Because, yes, I'm still a clueless hippy.
634. Littles calling the Man "Captain Honey".
645. Tiny's brother-proof skull.
793. "Mommy, why did you put clothes on me again?"
916. A long "England" walk with the dog, tiny bits of mist on my face, when my heart is breaking.
963. That gratitude begets gratitude.
1000. Pretend naps and having my brown eyed boy pat down my blanket and say, "I like you, Mommy."
1054. That there was nothing but black coffee in the travel mug that sat in the car for a week.
1110. God's incredible Never Stopping, Never Giving Up, Unbreaking, Always and Forever Love.
And on that note, I'm going to go kick the dog off the love seat, curl up with the Man, and watch The Avengers (yeah!), possibly with a slice of apple pie (also yeah!). Happy Thanksgiving, and try hard not to cry about the lack of a cute picture. I know it's hard. Frankly, I'm upset too.
