35. Full Beds

Tonight I returned from playing church basketball to an empty house, to empty beds. Tom and Makayla went with me, and I pressured Makayla into playing too. Her voice was almost gone when she reminded me on the way home that she was still feeling sick.

Tomorrow is Tom's first Success in the Sand one-mile inspirational training down at the end of our beach, so the boys are sleeping in grandma's bed. 

Normally the boys would be asleep right now anyway and the house would be quiet. And yet, this silence is empty. Passing by their dark room, I felt the void deeply. 

Sometimes I wish for peace and quiet, for emptiness, for silence. But not tonight. I miss my boys. I miss the beds being filled with intermittent sighs and sweaty shoes and socks being flung around on the floor. Sleep well, sweet lambs.

34. Lucky Hand Prints

Can you see it? I can whenever I walk by my front picture window. Travis stands here to watch me leave the house, pressing his hands and face on the glass. 

I haven't wiped this one off for several days now; maybe because it's a perfect print of his tiny hand. Maybe it's because someone once told me to enjoy the hand prints on the glass while you can. Or maybe because it's the print of my youngest, and in this moment I realize it's the smallest it will ever be because he just grew a fraction of an inch.

But I've left it mostly as a celebration of me finding pleasure in the messiness of the window, and seeing I actually benefit from its existence now, before now and after now. And for that I am most grateful.

33. 10 Towels

Maybe I get the idea of scarcity from my childhood. We had family home evenings and were taught how to read the outside electricity and gas meters. 

Shut off the lights when you leave the room. I remember my bath towel was ripped and holed. 

There is nothing wrong with having 5 nice towels; one for each family member. Well, at least, until you have a party with 9 girls during a rain pour. If they all were clean, I would have been fine with the 2 baby-hooded towels and 4 beach towels. 

Growing up I believed towels were very expensive since we couldn't afford new ones or else my mother would have purchased some. Now, I know how much towels cost, and yet, I ignored our towel shortage until recently. 

I never supposed filling the basket with freshly cleaned towels on Monday would please me so much. 

I am grateful I have the money to buy 5 new towels. Aye.

32. GOOD NEWS

Last night I felt the thanklessness of motherhood creep up on my tired spirit. I should have said, I love you all and good night instead of I'm leaving, find another mother. I didn't really say it, but I thought it.

The boys were separated again; one in my bed, one in his own bed. Lay down. I growled. 

And then, I started doing push-ups and chair dips until I was sweating and crying. 

This morning I felt better and the GOOD NEWS is I learned. I have 3 children all alive and healthy. I read a blog of a woman, who most recently lost one of her children. At least I am still enjoying the moments with all of mine. OK?

Of course, I know a paper cut hurts much worse in bed than during Jedi training camp and water never quenched so much. I didn't know 12 year olds were allowed to be so disrespectful all of the time, and unfortunately or not, my mom isn't around for sound advice on this one. 

Last night the spirit left my home. The GOOD NEWS is I recognized it and learned what doesn't work. 

31. Grammy

Grammy is a surrogate maternal grandmother to my daughter. She is also a mortal angel.

Have you ever found yourself in a life situation where you realize you can't keep going in the same direction without someone by your side? That heaven would literally open up and have to deliver someone to remind you of the light. Well, I have. And that's exactly what heaven did. 

Evalyn was my gift. I was not committed to anything including my marriage, my church or myself when I met her. I needed a loving mother figure to give me a swift kick. 

Several miracles later, I was introduced to a retired teacher who had some extra love and time on her hands to take care of a 2 week-old colicky baby and me. Everyday I came to pick up my daughter. She was clean, hair done, bottles and clothes washed, fed, happy, chewed gum at 14 months, potty trained at 18 months, sang songs, learned to count, and recited The Story of Little Black Sambo. 

And if there is a record in heaven keeping track, I know what my scrawny book looks like. Evalyn's record book is the thick one with several pages of my scribbled name. My mom's book is thick too. The records are probably filed by thickness. 

I can't even find the words to express my overflowing gratitude for Grammy's love and acceptance of me and my daughter, and the wonderful advice, Pay it forward.