I am thankful...

I came home from work tonight, a good day of work, and this is what I found. Finn, and the picture he made at school.

"I am thankful for

my mommy and daddy."

And Kenny said, "That's what he said he was thankful for..."

and we looked at each other, in wonder. I felt dazzled. Almost giddy, but quieter.

It may just the best moment in my life, so far.

I, Maria, am thankful, for Finn. And for Kenny. For the unimaginably precious gift of a family.

Thank You. Thank You. Thank You.










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Gratitude and Good Cheer

If you write it, it will be.

This is my hypothesis, and my hope.

I am cheerful today. I am productive. I work. I work efficiently, productively, and cheerfully.

I am a good Mom today. I love my son, actively. I listen to all his questions, and I answer. I enjoy my time with him.

I love my husband today. I listen to all his meanderings. I enjoy my time with him.

I suddenly flash on that scene from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, where Harry has to write Lying is Bad or something and it shows up on his hand all bloody.

That's what I love about imagination. It can't be tamed.

I do hope my hypothesis proves true. I do hope for good cheer and productivity and enjoyment.

I guess what I'll actively try to do today is appreciate.

I'll take "gratitude" as my cue. If I can appreciate my life, and be grateful for all the colors in it, I suspect it will be a good day.

And I still might go on Retreat. But today, since I can't, maybe I'll just act like I am -

I'll walk in gratitude, slowly.





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Retreat

When did I get so GRUMPY?

My irritability confounds me; I don't know why I have it, where it comes from, and I want it to go away.

That's not entirely true. I do, sort of, know why I have it. I'm just not sure why it's bothering me right now - sometimes it's fine, that thing.

That "mother" thing. That "wife" thing. That "job" thing.

And sometimes, like now, I HATE IT. I HATE being NEEDED. I HATE being SPOKEN TO. I hate the words I usually find adorable, the "What I neeeeeeed?" coming from my son. Usually, I love it. Usually, I pop right up and respond, lovingly, "What DO you need, my darling?"

Usually.

Tonight, I yelled. I might have said something like "Go away." But in a loud voice. Louder than I want to admit. And my husband thankfully swooped in and picked up our son and left me alone, closing the door behind them. And even that makes me angry - Why did it take him SO LONG?

I need a Retreat. I crave Silence. I long for Solitude. Long-term Solitude, beyond a bath or a closed door for 20 minutes. I'd like a couple of days.

What would I like? What's my vision?

A cabin. A cabin in the woods, with a beach nearby; lots of walking trails through silent forests. The sound of the ocean, the wind in the trees, birds. Food and drink that magically appears, or is already there waiting in the cupboards. A place to cook, if I feel like it. The perfect book. Two or three other perfect books - some fiction, some spirituality, maybe an autobiography or history. A new journal. A couple of excellent pens, blue ink, fine point, smooth gliding tips. Paint and paper. A camera. A dandy little laptop. A big bathtub, lots of candles, a big warm bed with supersoft sheets and a window that looks out at a vista.

And no one - NO ONE - around.

Solitude that is peaceful, not scary - maybe there's a nunnery over the hill where I can't see it or hear it, but I know it's there, with nun doctors and nurses, just in case I need them. Maybe they come check on me in the afternoons, to make sure I'm okay - without my ever seeing them or having to speak to them. Maybe they bring me silent baskets of food.

Four days. No - seven would be best. Maybe even more.

And I would not have to talk to anyone. I would not have to think about anyone, except myself.

I don't care if it sounds selfish. I have been selfless for over four years now. I want to be selfish. I am tired. I am GRUMPY. And I need my Retreat.





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44th Birthday, 44th President...

I haven't posted in so long - for good reasons, happily.

Good family times, with Finn and I hitting our stride and not too many breakdowns, and then Kenny home on October 30.

A good Halloween, Finn happy about his costume!! The most delightful little Witch ever, with neighborhood trick-or-treating and lots of loot.

And the best day of all, November 4 - with a new President Elect, bringing new hope and such joy. I wept and jumped up and down, watching the TV, and Finn fell asleep on the couch to Barack Obama's acceptance speech. He refused to go to bed, very out of character for him - he knew something BIG was happening, he could feel it in Kenny and me. And now, he gazes at the TV, saying, "I need see Barack Obama..."

And another good day, November 8 - Lights Up! at Playwrights Project; a job well done by all, a joyful, successful special event. Deborah was happy, people were moved and thrilled - and ladies who impress me, ladies who are not easily impressed themselves, were extremely pleased. One said it was a Magnificent night. And one looked at me and said, "You are a producer, aren't you?" with just a tiny bit of awe.

And I'd like to take all the credit, but I don't deserve it all. I deserve some, and that feels good. A job well done - a profoundly satifisfying feeling.

And today, my 44th birthday. Finn serenades me right now with Old MacDonald, sung by a toy long forgotten, who was recently resurrected and reassigned favored status. A lunch at work, with balloons and my favorite meatball sub and chocolate mousse pie, all provided by my co-workers. I was planning to take the day off, but a debriefing meeting was in order and happily combined with a birthday lunch.

And a walk on the beach; a quick walk, but good enough.

And dinner picked up by Kenny, grilled chicken and rice and beans and salad. And birthday wishes a'plenty from friends and family and Facebook pals.

I am grateful. I feel hopeful.

And Old MacDonald has a tractor, and on his tractor he has a duck, and on his tractor he has a cow, and on his tractor he has a pig. Ee Ei Ee Ei Oh.

Life is good.







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