Tag Archives: grateful

Momma’s Day and the kitchen sink

It’s been too long since I’ve put pen to paper (fingers to keys) about our evening thankfulness ritual.  Mythankfulboy’s first high school baseball season ended (not well, but better than expected given most of the juniors and seniors were thrown off the team for bad behavior), summer baseball began, bowling with friends happened, we replaced our kitchen sink ourselves (and by “ourselves” I mean B and me with routing by our sweet friend across the street, bolt-tightening by B’s dad, and advice from my dad), we rescued a baby fox that got its head caught in our batting cage netting, B had a spring cold, and Mother’s Day came and went.  For Mother’s Day, B tried to get some friends on board (at my suggestion) to do something for all the moms, but that didn’t work out, so he stole time with his dad to buy me a gift card to a restaurant I frequent with money sent to him by my mom for that purpose, to buy me a card (such sweet words) on which he wrote “Momma” in giant letters, and he announced a plan to take me out to dinner on his own dime.  The kitchen sink, though, required more attention than we had hoped, so we postponed that dinner.  My favorite thing he did, though, was replacing my morning alarm with the song Mama by LunchMoney Lewis.  There’s a lyric that says, “I could run in a race and come dead last – she say that’s my baby and stand up and clap”.  When we listened to the song together, he said, “That’s so you!”   There’s also a running background lyric in part of the song that says “Everyday is mother’s day”, and that’s how I feel waking up to that song every morning.

Along the way, among other things, we’ve been thankful for:  light homework nights, a new baseball glove, the kitchen sink, the folks that helped with the sink, the baby fox’s being okay, LunchMoney Lewis, ant traps, my pitching to B in the baseball cage, his feeling a bit better, and rain on Mother’s Day weekend (which meant no baseball – yeah, that one was mine – sorry B).

Life is good, and we are so grateful.

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Posted by on May 23, 2017 in Uncategorized


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Not much to share

I spoke to Mythankfulboy yesterday afternoon by phone, from a few states away.  He was subdued – his summer baseball tryouts had been postponed due to soggy fields, and he said he’d been in his room all day.  He asked about my day, and I shared a few things, but the whole conversation was forced, not in an awkward way, but I think we just didn’t have that much to share.   It didn’t seem like a good time to do the chalice ritual – if we had been together, maybe, but not by phone.  So, we didn’t.  I don’t know if he takes a moment on nights we’re not together to think about gratitude, but I do.   I was thankful for my friends J, M, & S, and for an evening with them.  This morning I’m grateful I’ll get home to hug that boy’s neck today.

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Posted by on April 9, 2017 in Uncategorized


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Exhausted from fun

Some weekends my main job is as driver.  Pick Mythankfulboy and a teammate up at baseball and take them home.  Run him to his dad’s to get something he forgot.  Take him to a school thon (at least I didn’t have to pick him up).  Take him and a friend to a skatepark and wait four hours for them to be done so I can take them home.  I marvel at people who have more than one and manage to get them everywhere.   And, the truth is, I don’t mind it, as long as it doesn’t have to be squeezed between other things at breakneck speed, which was true during the week this week.

B was very tired last night after being up all night at the thon fundraiser (raised $8000, so that’s cool) and then four hours of indoor skate park (on a scooter).   He doggedly did homework when he got home then sank down beside me on the couch for the chalice lighting.  He was thankful for a fun, exhausting weekend.  I was thankful for a productive weekend despite the chauffeuring.  He gave me a big kiss on the cheek and took himself to bed.

It’s a happy thing to be exhausted from fun.  It’s a thing for which to be grateful.

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Posted by on March 27, 2017 in Uncategorized


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Sweetness in the middle of a work day

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Grateful.  Just grateful.



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Posted by on August 26, 2016 in Uncategorized


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Lopsided heart

Dear Mythankfulboy,

Today is Mother’s Day, and I am so grateful to be your mom.  You are fourteen, and at a tender age, and I am hanging on every moment before you find you’re too big to lay your head on my shoulder in public.  Today you spent the day with me in the city, browsing in markets where we bought chocolate for you and fresh okra for me, debating about museums (none of which we actually entered), and riding a sightseeing double-decker bus in the sunshine and cool spring air (thanks for securing the very front seats -what a view!)  You used twenty dollars that my momma, Peepeye, sent you to buy me a funky case for my ever-more-needed glasses, and a notepad for the fridge so we can keep track of what we need at the store.  You actually got quite miffed with your father because he wouldn’t take you to get these for me last weekend, but he pulled through mid-week and the two of you made a special trip.  The card you gave me said, “Nothing is better than laughing and sharing with you” on the front, and “Whether we’re face to face, on the phone, or even just on each other’s minds, it’s nice to know we’re always there for each other with smiles and love to share.  Happy Mother’s Day.”  You wrote inside, “Thank you for never leaving my side.  Love, Baxter” and drew a lopsided heart.  When I read it and hugged you, you asked, “Did you see the heart I drew?  It’s bigger on one side than on the other”, and  when I stood back from the hug and looked at you, you shrugged with one shoulder as though to say, “You love me anyway, right?”  This, of course, made me cry.

You and your beautiful, lopsided, momma’s boy heart.  I love you.

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Posted by on May 8, 2016 in Uncategorized


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Summer!  Finally – school is out!  Mythankfulboy is adjusting to being on his own for the first time – I think he’s finding it’s lonesome.  Last night, at our chalice lighting, he asked me to wake him before work and kiss him goodbye.  Twist my arm!  The end of the school year is nutty for us – my work schedule is changing and parts of it are heating up, spring and summer baseball overlap for  little while, there are events to attend and vacations for which to ready.  We can stretch a little thin, but we always do our evening ritual of gathering together and talking about what makes us grateful (and often about what does not), whether or not we manage to actually light the chalice.  Last night B was thankful for me for getting him ready to go to the beach with friends.  I was thankful he was allowing me to shout out from my bed things for him to get together instead of doing it with or for him!

This morning I woke him and kissed his forehead, told him not to forget to eat something of substance, to vacuum the living room chair and couch of dog hair (because he allowed the dog to sleep on both yesterday), and to remember that I love him.  He said, “Yup”, “Yup”, and “I think I can manage that”.

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Posted by on June 16, 2015 in Uncategorized


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Is it their fault?

Quote and response about the homeless 021015

I mentioned in my post about last night’s thankfulness ritual that Mythankfulboy and I, along with some friends, had walked down a city street on which we passed some folks in sincere need.  They needed food, water, warmth, and protection from the elements. They needed a place to clean themselves and their belongings.  They needed safety.  Some, I’m sure, needed companionship or medical help or for someone to look them in the eye and see them for who they were at that moment, and in all their moments.  This didn’t come up in our chalice lighting last evening, but I wanted to make sure that we thought about it in the context of our gratitude ritual.

I keep a dry erase board propped on an easel in the kitchen for a written call-and-response of sorts between B and me.  Typically, I write a quote and its author, and a quick line about the author if I know anything (for this one I could not even find the original source).  It then stays on the board until B thinks about it and responds.  Sometimes he interprets it in his own words, sometimes he creates a joke, and sometimes he free-associates.  This one he was ready to respond to before I had even gotten the board off the kitchen table and back into its easel; he was clearly thinking about the same folks who were on my mind.  He de-capped a marker, then hesitated, stepping back from the board.  He said, “I think it means it’s not their fault.”   I looked at him and nodded just a little to let him know I was listening, but I let the silence grow.  This left room for him to ask, “Is it?  I mean is it any of their faults?”

Fault.  A hard word.  I said, “I don’t think anyone really wants to live on the street.  They may sometimes choose it over other places to live out of fear or because they aren’t able to make the decisions they need to make to maintain a different place to live, but I don’t think anyone sets out in life to be homeless.”  We stayed there a moment, each lost in our thoughts.  Then I realized I hadn’t really answered the “fault” part. I said, “Fault is a word we use when we are looking for someone to blame, and when we find someone to blame, we humans like to punish them. I don’t think we need to know whose fault it is, and even if we could figure something like that out, I don’t believe that we get to decide that someone deserves such a harsh life in punishment.  I think what we need to know is how we can help.”

At that point, he raised the marker again and wrote his response: “I felt sorry for the homeless we saw.  Next time we go into the city I will bring some money to help support them.”

His words are simple, and reflect budding understanding.  I took the liberty with the picture of highlighting the words “support them”.  I’m glad he used these words.  I’m glad he didn’t say “save them” or “fix them”.  I hope he grows into those words.

At the chalice lighting, we were so, so grateful for the roof over our heads as hail pelted the ground, for heat and warm clothes and all the food we could wish for.  B said he was glad we had a small house that wasn’t any bigger than we really needed.  I said me, too.

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Posted by on February 10, 2015 in Uncategorized


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