counting my blessings

Counting my blessings, crying tears over them:

- Many hands together in the Saturday pancake batter.

- Holding my Beth during dinner prep, because she smells good, her cheeks are soft for kissing, she is curious and happy when observing kitchen chaos work.

- My Paul, telling me tonight, "I'm sorry my voice is loud, Mommy.  I just get so excited sometimes.  I think I can't help it."

- My children, who kiss their daddy happily before he leaves for work.

- My husband, who never forgets my kiss.

- Many hands in the brownie frosting, cocoa powder and powdered sugar all over the kitchen.  "This is the best frosting I have ever tasted!"--shouted, loudly! by Paul.  See above.

- My Peter, who loves food so much he can barely contain himself on dessert nights.  He finishes first, jumps up, and says, "I'll go get the brownies and some plates!"  Meanwhile, the rest of us are only half-way through our dinner.  At eight years old, he eats far more than I do and burns every calorie.  I love his passion--for insects, for amphibians, for food, for cooking and baking, for life.

- For my Mary, who went in the kiddy pool without a swimmy diaper.  "Be sure and come back if you have to go potty", Momma reminds.  "Don't go in the pool."  Mary is fully capable, but she's holding on to diapers to preserve something special between Momma and herself.  She wants to be a big girl...she is a big girl in many ways....but to do all the potty things herself is to say goodbye to a relationship.  Diapering is a relationship.  I sense her letting go.  My guess is in about six weeks, she'll never look back.

She ran in the house needing to go, but someone had locked the door to the bathroom accidentally, and the delay meant she peed on the floor by the toilet.

"Mommy, I accidentally peed on the floor."  She waits.  Studies my face.

"Okay", said Momma.  "Go ahead and wash your hands in the other bathroom while I clean this up."

"Are you mad at me, Mommy?"  (Mary is my sweetest child at this time.  So sensitive and lovely.)

"No, my love.  This wasn't your fault.  You came in just like Momma asked you to."

"Thank you, Mommy."

Thank you, Mary.  Thank you.


I love you, my precious ones!  All of you!