First Fridays are for remembering all I have to be grateful for. Even in the midst of mind-numbing sleep deprivation (which I thought was horrific with just one baby but is an order of magnitude worse with two; I cannot imagine triplets), I still manage to count my blessings.
Well, during the day I manage to. In the middle of the night, it’s a different matter. So the first thing I’m grateful for today is that the night always ends. Day always breaks. And lately, days have been breaking more or less sunnily, and the sunshine helps stabilize my emotions (helps being the operative word here).
I’m also grateful for:
My sister who took the 5:00 feeding this morning without waking me up: Doug and I got four uninterrupted hours of sleep. That’s more than I’ve had in months. I feel like a new woman.
Hot showers.
Jane hugs.
Ben’s first smile this morning.
A friend’s gift of a massage.
My first haircut in a year and a half.
Getting to sit in the rocking chair last night with Jack and Luke in my lap. Luke dozed on Jack’s chest.
Healthy children.
Having our family home together these past three weeks.
The many people who have brought us meals this past month.
Sunny days.
My older kids and their cousin playing in the yard all day every day for the past two weeks (well, except for the two days when it rained; but even then they went outside some).
My mother, who has sacrificed two months of her life to help me manage this transition. She’s watched my kids, ferried me to appointments, washed my dishes and dirty clothes multiple times a day, and endured my taking her presence and help for granted, my hopeless attempts at self-sufficiency, and my frustration and fear, not to mention my anal retentiveness when it comes to sorting and washing the laundry – all without complaint. I hope I grow up to be as gracious with my kids as she is with hers.
The gift of laughter: yesterday morning, in sleep-deprived hilarity (the babies had been up almost every hour all night long, and we were operating on about an hour and a half of sleep), my sister and I nicknamed the boys Javier With No Hair and Oswald the Bald (that’s Luke and Ben, respectively), much to the delight of Jack, Jane, and Atlee (their cousin), who joined us in giggling over our lame rhymes for the babies’ new names:
I climb the stair
in a chair
holding Javier
With No Hair
because of the Nair.
And, when Luke was being held while Ben was on the floor:
Oswald the Bald
is appalled
that Javier
With No Hair
is up there.
Hmm. I guess you had to be there.
