Just another Tuesday

on 08 December 2009

I woke up this morning after having really weird dreams last night.

I woke up with a cold in my head.

I woke up with a rumbly in my tumbly.

The Boy woke up Foul Foul Foul because he woke up too early and had gone to bed too late last night.

I was really indecisive about breakfast so we didn't eat until later and the Boy was screaming mad and also HUNGRY.

My kitchen is a wreck.

The Boy has gone back to pooping in his diapers and not telling me about it so his room is quite malodorous this morning.

I haven't vacuumed since Wednesday and there's kitty litter strewn from one end of the apartment o another.

Chris is exhausted and Foul with work right now.

Chris is also really discouraged.

I haven't made Christmas cookies for the cookie plates.

I haven't finished my Christmas shopping.

I have been sitting at my desk, sipping on a diet coke left behind by my parents (thank you PARENTS!) and feeling a tiny bit sorry for myself while the Boy strip mines my kitchen cupboards.

And yet.

For all that, I'm still grateful that I'm NOT Tiger Woods this morning. 

I'm grateful that I'm NOT Tiger Wood's wife.  For all their millions, their gated mansion, their playing golf for a living, their housekeepers and nannies, I'm grateful NOT to be them this morning. 

I'm grateful that I don't live in Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, or Pakistan today. 

I'm grateful that we have a job. 

I'm grateful that I'm not addicted to heroin, cocaine, vicodan, alcohol, or anything more damaging than diet coke. 

I'm grateful for lovely classical music and the ability to listen to it any time I feel the least bit stressed.

I'm grateful for the tupperware in my kitchen cupboards and that it amuses my grumpy child.

I'm grateful for my grumpy child because even when he's grumpy life is better, sweeter, fuller, richer than when we had no child at all.

Now, if you will all excuse me, I'm going to go vacuum my apartment and put the tupperware back in the cupboards. 


Brett said...

why is it that these little things are so hard? For some reason, they are much harder for me to handle than things like when Ben was applying to Grad schools... Maybe it's because the stress is all spread out in the big things, but in the little things it seems like everything is in your face all at once. Dunno.