An average day of thanks

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Sure, it was just Thanksgiving. But this year, I’m trying to bring a little thanks into my everyday. This is how it’s going so far.


7:48 am 

I hear the faint sound of some terrible Disney channel show coming from my son’s room. He’s finally taking us up on the offer of “Seriously, when you wake up before the rest of us on the days no one has to get up early, do what you want and we won’t even be narcs about it if you just let us sleep. Eat cereal in your underwear and watch the shows we complain about. That’s what we used to do and we are functional members of society. JUST LET US SLEEP.” I am grateful.

8:18 am

From the other side of the closed bathroom door, I hear the horrifying utterance of “uh-oh”.

“WHAT-O??” I ask hesitantly.

“Um, I dropped a magnet in the toilet.”

“Are you serious?”

Flinging the door open and peering in, I see nothing.

“It went in the hole. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

I mumble to myself “sonofabitchwhatinthehellamIsupposedtodonowgoddammitkidswhatismylifecomingto” or something to that effect.

Locating the sole metal hanger in our closet, I untwist it into one long snake and cram it in the blessedly poop free toilet and fish out the magnet.

I am thankful. Thankful for not having to touch turds, for quick thinking, and for indoor plumbing that works properly.



Some days, the promise of your caffeinated magnificence is the sole force that pulls me out of bed.


Took a shower without someone deciding they had to take a dump while I shampooed my hair for the first time in three days. First world thanks, but thanks nonetheless.


The children were mutually engaged in an activity which involved no messes, shouting (in general or at one another) or imminent threat of death. I am incredibly grateful for these windows of civility. Sure, it ended when the 3 year old picked a wedgie by shoving her hand down the back of her pants and insisting her brother smell it but he likely taught her that move anyway. Poetic justice. Hey! Double thanks!


Taught yoga class. Didn’t fart. #Blessed.


Child on a mad hunt for a whistle ceases to remember that it was recently confiscated to prevent me from climbing to the roof and swan diving to the pavement. She searches for 10 minutes before giving up and moving on to something else without a single meltdown in the process. Little does she know it rests on top of the refrigerator in toy jail alongside a single drumstick, some god awful mini vuvuzela, and a 15 cent dart gun the 9 year old bought with tickets at the bowling alley. Thankful for whatever minor miracle derailed the girl who can normally retain the desire for any given object over approximately 4 lunar cycles.


Got the 3 year old changed to go out to dinner. When I told her she looked fabulous she answered with, “Thank you. You’re handsome.”


At the restaurant we allow the children to play table top shuffle board in the room adjacent to where we are seated. A few moments in, I hear screeching. Mortified for just a second, I realize, the sound of Beezlebub did not come from either of my offspring. When it comes to gratitude, sometimes it’s the little things.



Every night when it’s time to put the kids to bed, when I’m busy dicking around on the internet  cleaning up, I call to my husband to brush the youngest’s teeth because it’s basically the worst child related chore left in our daily routine. I don’t know why I despise it so much, but maybe it’s because I want to be excused from guilt if she ever has any cavities. Or, maybe it’s because I’m still exhausted from brushing my son’s teeth at that age. For years he made it a ten minute ordeal with of 6 second bursts of brushing alternating with 45 seconds of spitting and wiping. Bobby always steps up without complaint when I get sick of pretending to be an adult. He doesn’t judge me on those rare occasions I’ve been too caught up with other things to eat anything and I whine something only partially coherent about being too hungry to figure out food. At least I don’t think he does. Maybe he does. But whatever. He’ll make me a snack without telling me I’m a total dumbass. I have endless gratitude for sharing my life with someone who lets me set it all down when I need to.


Gratitude all up in my face.

Fine. It's really not that hard to feel thankful.

Fine. It’s really not that hard to feel thankful.


amateur comedian, professional bullshitter. will take pay in baked goods once already rich.