We had planned to visit the in-laws at their place in cottage-country this weekend to do all the Thanksgiving stuff together, but the children both have coughs and runny noses, husband is super-fatigued from holding a lit candle in both his mouth AND his buttcheeks for the last several weeks, and I too feel I might be losing the battle of staving off this looming illness. T’is better to stay put, me thinks. Plus, the weather is supposed to be cold, with a side of crappy. I’m thinking rented movies and popcorn, and homemade butternut squash soup on our big, comfy couch is a much better plan of inaction.
I will have to scare up some kind of Thanksgiving dinner menu, even if it’s just the four of us at the table. Some kind of roast beast to feed our little Whoville. Maybe cornish hens… we’ll see.
For now, I’m thinking of my little people, and how happy I am that they’re (normally) healthy and happy and well. They’re still adjusting to school, but I have faith that all will be smoother for everyone soon. I have a loving, sexy husband who loves me, despite all my many, many faults. The roof over our head doesn’t leak (anymore) and there’s food in the cupboard. AND there’s wine. Today, I’m feeling pretty rad about all that. After all, it’s the little things, right?
And here are my Little Things:
My baby girl, Ava Scarlett, who is sometimes the devil on two legs, but she’s talking more and more every day, and she’s quite interesting and funny. She sings all the ding-dang day, but it’s kinda charming, and the fact that she’s usually got the correct tune, rhythm and intonation makes me… proud. She’s starting to string words together. Though she’s been refusing milk for the past month or so (no, thank you!) she eats enough at meal times, and sleeps until a reasonable morning hour, in her own bed. And her horns are less pointy now. Makes me think I may not have to kill her after all.
My man-child, Oliver, who still ain’t digging French school so very much, but he likes his teacher, and he’s made some friends, and he eats all of his lunch and snacks, so I don’t think he’s depressed. He’s a little less ornery than he was in September, so this is a good thing. When a
baby bitch little girl at school called him a baby for not colouring inside the lines, I told him to punch her in the neck nevermind, because as long as he was happy with his efforts, then that’s all that counts, really. He kissed me on the cheek. I don’t feel like shanking him every day now.
They fill me up. They make me feel an ridiculous amount of irrepressible, uncontainable love I never knew I had in me. It’s an awesome mama-bear kinda love.
I adore them completely… even when this job sometimes sucks ass.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!