Does anyone else feel like this week has lasted approximately 3.5 years? Time is strange. Fall is a beautiful time of year, but it’s still a transitional season—everything just steadily moves forward. I think that’s why it’s the perfect time of year for a holiday like Thanksgiving: you have to be intentional about pausing, reflecting, and practicing gratitude.
I’ve decided we’re not going to talk about the 10 month absence between posts. Here’s five photos I picked from my recent camera roll, and five things I’m thankful for:
1. “You got an apple! Why are you eating the apple? Are you hungry? How are you hungry? It’s orange and an apple!” -just a whole mob of three year olds
My job is hard…it is physically and emotionally draining…but small humans are honestly the best version of human. I love that they have no shame about being themselves, not knowing things, telling you exactly what they think. Being allowed into their funny and sweet little worlds is a gift. I’m thankful for my work.
2. We were on the way home from school/work when I noticed the sun setting, but didn’t say anything. Like most people I’m sure, I need a quiet ride home to let go of the afternoon. But Abbott stopped mid sentence and said, “Whoa! Look at the sunset! It’s so pretty with the clouds! You should take a picture, Mommy. I really like it.” By the time we got to a red light, it was obscured by the buildings and reduced to this:
But that’s beside the point. I love that he noticed it, and I love that he thought it was worth remembering. Most of all, I love that he got that from me. All the times in the past 5 years I’ve pointed out things I thought were beautiful; now he does it, too. There’s a deeper truth in there about always seeking the beauty in things and the importance of sharing it. Really…it’s a gift to see the best parts of yourself in another person you’re helping to shape. I’m thankful for the blessing to be a parent.
3. Last year we finally looked into PPCD in our school district because I was at the end of my rope. I read all the books and articles and tried every technique to get Abbott just to a pre-writing/reading, pre-K ready level. It wasn’t working. The older he got, the more his disabilities became obvious. I fought the feelings of failure hard, but just a few weeks into the program we knew we’d made the right choice. It’s sobering to sit around a table while 7 professionals present you with literal charts on how far behind your child is. On the flip side, to see their plans working and their genuine excitement when goals are met is incredible. Abbott started Kindergarten in a regular class with normal kids. He still receives therapy and support, but his teacher makes no special concessions for him.
He was very proud to show me this drawing of himself at school, walking to the office to help with announcements. After years of only seeing scribbles, a person you can actually tell is a person made me so happy. I will forever be in debt to all the people who work hard to teach him the extra steps he has to learn to be able to do everyday “normal” things. I’m thankful for our school district, their standard of excellence, and for public school in general. The resources they provide for children like Abbott are invaluable and important—and accessible to everyone.
4. I said I was done being “that mom”, but this is me up late making a Chicka Chicka Boom Boom costume for the school storybook parade. You might notice my husband’s phone with the Fubu app open, trying to get World Series game 7 to play.
The livestream eventually loaded. The Astros eventually…bombed. Just. so. badly. It was the most beautifullay pitched 7 innings I’ve ever watched and yet, a big L. I’m still a fan, but this one hurt. I’m thankful for the Astros even when they (technical term) totally biff it. 🤷🏼♀️
5. In the 6 years we lived in our first place, we never invited friends over for dinner. Family, yes (though not as often as I wanted), but never friends. I had one friend who came over for crafts and the kids’ play dates sometimes; and another friend who had “drop by anytime but I’m not getting out of my pajamas” privileges, but that was it. I was never proud of our old duplex and my lack of ability to make the best of it. I know that’s not the right attitude, but it’s the truth.
This pic is from last month, the first time we invited other friends over to our new house. The play date & pajama privilege friends have already been a few times, but these were the real deal: my Sunday school 6th graders and a family who were still just acquaintances. In a shocking turn of events (as in, I was shocked) I felt zero panic or stress leading up to the dinner. I didn’t clean anything more than normal, I left cooking dishes and clutter out I’d normally be embarrassed by, and I completely forgot to scrub the toilets.
Obviously, it turns out you don’t have to kill yourself making things perfect for people to feel welcome. Everyone had the best time eating piles of baked potatoes and personalizing tote bags. We got to tell the story of how we got together to people who haven’t heard it, which is rare. And believe it or not, no one commented on the lack of flooring in the hallway. Before they left, after I refused to let her keep cleaning up, the mom gave me the highest compliment I could ever wish for my housekeeping: “This is the most comfortable I’ve felt in someone’s home in awhile.” I don’t think she would’ve felt that way if I’d stayed up all night scrubbing things. I am so thankful for good friends and a table to welcome them around. That is holy ground.
