If You Promise to Count Your Blessings...

So, it turns out if you publicly declare to count your blessings and more frequently record your life in writing, you will wake up to a crappy morning. (Sorry about the word choice, but it fits.)

Rather, you will be woken up in the wee hours of the night by the 2 year old who isn't happy that the cat is playing in her room while she tries to sleep. No sooner will you get back to sleep, then the old dog will wake you up so he can go relieve himself.

Early in the morning, you will again hear your 2-year-old because it's raining and she's "scared of the rain." So, she'll move to your bed for the remaining 45 minutes until wake up time. Not 15 minutes later, your children will go downstairs and you'll be happy to have a few minutes to wake up slowly before heading down to make breakfast.

As you savor the semi-quiet moments in a warm bed, you'll hear your 6 year old scamper upstairs to inform you that the dog has made a stinky (read poop) mess on the family room carpet. So, you'll spend the first half hour of your morning cleaning carpet.

The children will whine as you get ready to take them to different fun activities. After one event, you'll give them lunch and then take them upstairs for separate quiet times in their rooms. Then, you'll sit down to try and put a positive spin on the day's events, because, you know, you've promised to faithfully record you're blessed life.

As you open the laptop, you'll hear little feet running around upstairs, most certainly not having quiet times and most definitely play together. You'll sigh a tired sigh, rewarm the morning's coffee, and smile.

You're not sure how it works, but somehow, despite the crazy start to the day and the promise of cranky kids in the afternoon, you know that your life is still very, very blessed. Stinky, but blessed.


Anonymous said...

love love love your heart for your people, it blesses me.

Jeni said...

So that's what happened to my year. I am thankful for little knees in my back as I sleep, a wonderful game of "throw all your toys down the stairs, and stepping into the kitchen, while wearing socks, and landing in a giant puddle of dog water.

dawn marie giegerich said...

I do like this blog. It has a softer, almost poetic feel to it as compared to your other posting. (Both are worthy, of course, and their objectives are different.) Keep writing, I am interested.

Sara said...

Great post about blessings