This week I started talking to Lute about the difference between good choices and bad choices.
Good choice: do everything Mama says.
Bad choice: make Mama crazy.
At least that's the underlying theme. And he's learning. And I am learning to let go of my need for constant control. At least a little bit.
So, in that spirit, today I am choosing to focus on the good stuff - the things I am thankful for. Otherwise, I might go a little crazy.
Not gonna focus on sick babies, late tax returns, messy houses, mountains of laundry, so many unanswered questions in the stupid Lost finale... you get the picture.
Thankful for Eddie. This week he finally started saying "mama" as we drove home from Trader Joe's. I was tempted to pull the car over for a big snuggle, but I made it home, if somewhat tearfully (and joyfully).
For happening upon the farmer's market today and getting a huge, beautiful bouquet of peonies to brighten my kitchen.
For my dear friend, Kelly, bringing us a delicious dinner in the midst of sick baby/cranky toddler/cranky mama chaos. Not having to cook two nights in a row is pretty priceless.
For George and his sweet face. And that he crawled for the first time, beating his brothers by almost three months. Actually, not sure I am that thankful for that. BUT, thankful that he is strong, healthy boy.
And thankful for a sweet moment I shared with my Lute:
We decided to visit Nick at work on Monday afternoon. His office is right outside of the chapel at the Mount and Lute loves to dip his hand in the holy water, which is in the tiniest little font just inside the door. That usually means water is sloshing about, dripping down his arm and dribbling to the floor. Not the most reverent application process.
"Mama, can I get the water?" he asked.
"Sure, just be careful."
"Mama, can I give you some?"
I hesitated. Should I be reigning him in? Showing him the "right" way to do it? Let go, let go, let go, I thought to myself. Let the kid be three, for goodness sake.
"Uh, sure," I said.
The little hand went in again, splashing water down the small bronze vessel and onto the floor.
I bent down so he could touch my forehead. And in the sweetest, quietest voice, he held his hand to my brow and said, "Father, Son and Holy Spirit."
Tears welled, I was rendered speechless, and absolutely filled with gratitude. Doesn't get much better than a blessing whispered from the sincere heart of my little man.