Thanksgiving

Staying home with our children has always been my ambition. Finding a husband that you love, like and earns enough for the whole lot can be tough. Deep down inside I am grateful for the stars that blessed me, the example of my mother, and the focus to create my seemingly “lucky” situation. But, it’s easy for me to forget that ambition and success on those days when I feel like a farm hand scooping up poop behind two children and two dogs. Needless to say, in an effort to keep me from joining a real circus, the dogs live outside these days. A lot of decisions have been made simply by asking myself, “Will doing ______ make it easier?” The nuppers have the sweetest little doggy feelings and when Broderick goes out of town they voice their discontet by pooping on silk drapes, Noah also speaks this language… hence the three high water curtains peppered around our home. I know, I know, you don’t wash silk – but the dry cleaning just didn’t do the trick.

On those days, on those really bad days when it’s non stop crying and pooping and spit up and laundry detergent poured behind the hutch, plants emptied on the floor, stubbed toes and back aches – on those days, if I am honest, I am not thankful. I am sad and tired and mad at anyone who has the time to shower or space to think a thought all the way through. Those days can be so bad you can’t remember it being any other way. I had had a few of those days in a row, and as I sat in our breakfast nook and cried my way through my frustration to Broderick I felt a little hand rub my back and tell me, “It’s okay mommy, I’m right here.”