Even though my son comes into my room every morning between 5:20 and 5:45, I find joy in the fact that he is always carrying at least two books — because reading books is the very first thing he wants to do as soon as he opens his eyes. This is made extra special with the same phrase every morning (spoken with a precious 2 year-old lisp): “Want to read these bookths Mommy.”
Even though my daughter spits up and/or drools on my face and in my hair every day, I love it because it is due to her wanting to grab Mommy’s face and give her version of hugs and wet slobbery kisses.
Even though I sneer at the jiggly belly I cannot — and may not ever — lose, I touch my stomach with fondness, pride, and longing for the reason it is so jiggly.
Even though I struggle to get through the day when my husband is out of town, I find a sense of pride in having to do it all myself — and as I peek in at my kids sleeping peacefully in their beds, I can say to myself that on this day, “You done good Mommy.”
Even though I often resent and envy my husband’s life out in the world, with grownups, and wearing clothes not off the clearance rack at Kohl’s, I am appreciative that he works as hard as he does to provide us with the life we live. And having him gone, while it frustrates me, it makes me remember why we love it so much when he is here.