Things I Love — The Short List
I love that sunshine was actually streaming through the window this morning.
I love McHusband and I love that I didn’t settle just so I could be married at an “acceptable” age. When I was around 23 a couple of parental units told me maybe my standards were too high. Luckily, I didn’t listen. When I decided to marry McH, one parental unit was none-too-happy, him being a few years younger and not finished with his undergrad and all at the time. I’m glad I didn’t listen. I love McHusband.
I love that our bedroom is finally put back together and better than ever. It is finally a relaxing, almost classy, place to be. I love the new chest, the rearranged and added furniture, and the fact that I can go buy the last few things we need to finish the project without stressing over the extra $$$ it’s wound up costing us.
I love my children. I love that A~ always tries so hard to be helpful and always do what’s right. I love that L~ is so sensitive and thoughtful, and has common sense. I love that Midge uses her powers of cuteness, for good and evil, and can always bring a smile to my face. I love Tank Boy. I love that he has become somewhat conversational, and I love that two is only one year long.
I love health food stores. Now if I could only get to one so I could buy the probiotics I desperately need to counteract the negative effects of my antibiotics, of which I’m also somewhat fond. Though to say I love them would be going too far.
I love that PBS plays a song from Napoleon Dynamite everyday before Sesame Street. “I can see that we are going to be friends . . .” I’m sure the song came from somewhere else before it was in the movie, but I don’t care. The daily association makes me smile.
I love my parents, even though my mother is probably reading this and thinking, “She put her bedroom before her kids? What kind of mother does that? And probiotics and movie music before us? For crying out loud . . .”
I love my big dogs who undoubtedly protected me from who-knows-what-fate when we lived downtown, and I love my little dog who stalks the munchkins when they have food. It always baffles me just a little when I am at someone’s house, food gets dropped on the floor, and someone has to bend over and pick it up!
I love chocolate. And no, I haven’t fallen off the no sugar wagon. I’ve jumped off. I was going to write that I leapt off with great abandon, but that seemed to imply joy and rapture in the whole thing. There was no joy. With four kids around all the time, rapture is tough to come by around here as well. I jumped off because I was quite sick, which led to me feeling depressed and useless, which led to a big pity party, many tears, huge doubts about proceeding with the adoption because Who has FIVE kids anyway?, which led to chocolate. I’m feeling much healthier now and have no doubts about the adoption, though I confess that the idea of five kids is still a bit daunting. But we’ll manage. With chocolate. For now. It’s Valentine’s Day after all.
I love my siblings. Sometimes I love chocolate more.
I love my in-laws; at least most of them. I’ll spare you the short-list of those I don’t necessarily love, but suffice it to say that the sperm donor is right at the top.
I love my friends. I’ve always been the kind of person to have a lot of acquaintance-type-friends and just a very few close friends. Sometimes I wish I knew how to have a lot of close friends, but I love the ones I have.
I love my vacuum cleaner. I’d love it more if it could get the job done on it’s own.
I love that most people don’t think I look my age. I didn’t love it so much when I was 25 and people thought I was 16, but now I don’t mind being mistaken for 25.
I love that I can color my hair when the gray starts to give me away.
I love blogging. I love to write, especially when I have the time and material to write something worth reading which, I realize, is not every time I post something.
I love that we are able to adopt again. I’m not loving the wait, but I’m loving the idea of completing my family and being done. Absolutely. Done. Unless we decide to adopt an older child several years from now when Quinn is at least 8. We’ll see. (My mother has just, undoubtedly, fainted)
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt says Happy Valentine’s Day.