when I was in high school, this girl I knew told me I was going to be a really good mother some day. I think she was saying it because I am naturally a worrier and do-gooder, but I have also been reading “mom blogs” for several years, so yes, I will be a really good mother some day. this has stuck with me over the years because I cannot wait to have children (not just because I want to name them, but that’s a fun perk) and I know when it happens, I’ll be completely unprepared like everyone else, but I am just going to hope that my maternal instincts kick in like they did for Mindy Lahiri on The Mindy Project. I figure if I’m going to be a mess, I might as well be a hot mess.
I also know Ben is going to be a really good father some day, for very different reasons. he’ll balance out my neurotic self, like telling me no when I try to microchip our children so we always know their whereabouts.
our 11-year-old basset, Lucy, had surgery and a few teeth removed last week, so we have waited on her hand and foot, which is honestly no different from a typical day with Lu, but now we have to lift her on to every piece of furniture, administer medications 3x a day, and walk her outside so she her cone doesn’t get stuck on a branch and poke her eyeball out.
so, for the past week, Ben and I have both gotten a glimpse of how we will be as parents, and I think it is safe to assume we are probably already a little annoyed and terrified about what our future children will be put through.
for example: Ben is very aggressive around Lucy in her vulnerable state. he moves very quickly and pets her like she does not have an incision on her tummy. I remind him to be gentle around her, to which he replies that him and Lucy have a very loving relationship. well, Ben, love isn’t supposed to hurt! just jokes. he would never hurt her.
likewise, has not been impressed by my “helicopter” parenting and has told me many times that I will not be this way with our children. so what if I think Lucy deserves her own heater blanket and think her bed should be moved from room to room in the house, depending on where we are? so what if I want to wrap a bandanna around her neck to make the cone more comfortable?
checks and balances, people.
all jokes aside, there is always something to be grateful for year-round, but Thanksgiving is really one of my favorite holidays because it presents the perfect opportunity to let us feel life to its beautiful core. it is hard to avoid the news and all the negativity that is in the world. and it can be completely debilitating. sometimes it is so scary for me to think about bringing babies into the world (someday), but I have to keep believing that the heart of life is good (thanks, John Mayer).
my book club read We Are Called to Rise by Laura McBride this month and it was phenomenal. I read it in one day and finished it after Ben had fallen asleep beside me. I was silently sobbing because I didn’t want to wake him up, but it moved me more than anything I have read in years. it is so easy to think that the good vibes we put into the universe don’t matter, but they absolutely do. everyone is always going through something, and smiling at a stranger in Target could turn someone’s day around. our tiny acts of caring can lead to something grandeur, and maybe we’ll never witness the buildup or reap the benefits of all of our good intentions, but someone, somewhere, will.
despite all the crazy in the world, there is always so much to be thankful for. a healthy puppy. a calm, loving fiancé. two wonderful families we always look forward to spending time with. friends that are willing to hear about both the good and bad days. jobs that allow us to live comfortably. heater blankets. wine. making pancakes and listening to records on slow Sunday mornings.
“It all matters. That someone turns out the lamp, picks up the windblown wrapper, says hello to the invalid, pays at the unattended lot, listens to the repeated tale, folds the abandoned laundry, plays the game fairly, tells the story honestly, acknowledges help, gives credit, says good night, resists temptation, wipes the counter, waits at the yellow, makes the bed, tips the maid, remembers the illness, congratulates the victor, accepts the consequences, takes a stand, steps up, offers a hand, goes first, goes last, chooses the small portion, teaches the child, tends to the dying, comforts the grieving, removes the splinter, wipes the tear, directs the lost, touches the lonely, is the whole thing. What is most beautiful is least acknowledged. What is worth dying for is barely noticed.”
― Laura McBride,