Thankful

I think I have reached that point in adulthood when the "thankful" list is both incredibly hard to write and incredibly simple.

What I mean by that is I am at that point in life where more than a few friends have already had cancer. I have one dear friend right now recovering from a bone marrow transplant, and another 11 weeks into a hospital stay. Life is hard. I am old enough now that I am paying for college, which means rather than easing off in my career . . . I have to work harder. And I have three more to send through college. Considering Demon Baby is only 3 . . . I will be working unti I have false teeth in a glass by my bed. I am old enough that I am watching my parents age . . . and old enough that mortality crosses my mind. I am old enough to have said painful good-byes . . . and grieved in ways I never would have imagined when I was a child.

But with that age comes a wisdom. That what you are truly thankful for becomes a list of those things you cannot buy. Those things you know you are incredibly lucky to have. You become thankful that you love deeply enough to grieve when someone is no longer in your life. You become thankful you love friends so much that when they are sick, you thoughts are constantly with them.

So . . . my thankful list this year is crystal clear.

My friends. Both in the real world and in my cyber world. You know who you are.

My career. It's never a total lark being a writer. It's unstable. The news each day is doom and gloom, but hey . . . I still get to make stuff up for a living. And blog in my pjs. So how cool is that?

My parents . . . they are staying with me until January. That's . . . um . . . unusual for an adult child to be able to live with her parents for that long and not smother them with a pillow . I am grateful, frankly, that I am grateful they are here, despite the addition of two more people in this house. I am grateful they are still WITH me and still healthy.

My Oldest Daughter. My heart breaks a bit every time I listen to her latest concerto. She's a classical violinist . . . and . . . my God, to have that much talent. Apparently, she thinks I am a terrible "phone person" (which is true). We talk twice a day, but I know I somehow fail to convey how proud I am. Or that when I hear Ray LeMontagne come on my iPod I start to cry each and every time (he's kind of "our" singer). Considering I have 8 of his songs in a random 3,000-song shuffle, I can well up once a day or three times in a day. And I think that's a good thing--to have an adult daughter (gulp . . . she's an ADULT) who is my friend. That I love that much.

Oldest Son for being the kindest guy I know--now or EVER. The one who helps the babies in the nursey at church, or the one who unloads the bags at the food bank. The thoughtful one. The math guy who patiently showed his grandfather how to play the Wii this week.

Baby Girl, for being my poet. The artist's heart. The sweetie-pie who never fails to make me laugh with her wit. The one who draws and creates graphics and has such an unending imagination that the little angel on my shoulder occasionally whispers in my ear, "She's a writer."

And finally . . . Demon Baby. Every day he challenges me in ways that make me want to pull my hair out strand by strand--and in whole fistfuls. He is fresh and angry and difficult and creates mayhem wherever he goes. And yet . . . that imagination and vocabulary and the way he THINKS tells me he is destined to go places. No one will EVER stick Demon Baby in a corner. He would never stay there. His new routine is to come into my bed in the middle of the night. In his sleep, he reflexively reaches his tiny hand out until he finds my cheek, then he rubs it for a while until he settles back into a sleep cycle. I don't move him back to his bed, because with this kid, that's the sweetest part of my day/night. And so I wouldn't trade it.

See? Crystal clear. Delightfully simple.

What are YOU thankful for? And HAPPY HOLIDAY and SAFE TRAVELS.

Thankful

Oh, about the fourth load of laundry for the day, and the third load in the dishwasher, about the two a.m. Demon Baby wake-up call, I start to feel less than thankful. Things have been so stressful around here, I haven't been able to even get a haircut in three or four months . . . I always seem to have more bills than checks each month. My bathroom shower is leaking into the ceiling of my kitchen . . . and Demon Baby's NEW trick is opening the intake area of the heating system and pulling out the air filter and then trying to hide in there. My Dad is here, and he's blind . . . and that makes me incredibly sad.

But actually . . . I am thankful my parents are visiting for a month and they are both HERE, still with me physically. As for the rest of my exhausting life, I am thankful. I wish I could say I was evolved enough as a person to be thankful with each and every sleepless step and moment. Each and every time I have to race out at night because someone forgot to tell me they need posterboard for a school project. Each and every time the mail comes and it's . . . bills. I'm not, though. As a writer, I have to find ways to juggle it all from home, mostly by myself, with four kids. I gave up coffee a year ago, but I've been hitting the caffeine this month just to get it all done.

But thankful I am. I have four wonderful children who make each day an adventure. I can't even describe what being a mother means to me. My children make me laugh, smile, and sometimes cry; they each have qualities I admire and talents that are unique. We are all healthy. I've been winning my battle with Crohn's disease many more days than not, thanks to Traditional Chinese Medicine, a long remission, and sheer will. I have a beautiful home that's usually filled with a lot of noise and children and pets. I have a completely fat incorrigible corgi who thinks he's a lap dog and two pups, one of whom can make a flying leap and land on the table--talented! But they give unconditional love. I have a best friend--not just ANY best friend, but the most talented, giving, funny person . . . and (bonus!) she bakes the best cookies in North America and possibly the globe. I have a guy who still thinks I'm the hottest babe in the room--and will tell me that after the third consecutive sleepless night, with no shower, no makeup, and wearing a T-shirt from a concert I attended 10 years ago. Obviously, he's been smoking crack, but you get the idea.

I have a job I love. No matter how tired I am, sitting in my home office working my own hours, writing for a living is better than any career I could have dreamed up for myself. I get to make stuff up for a living. I get to tell stories.

And last but not least . . . I have a community of writer pals who mean a lot to me--both in person and online. Thank you to all the regulars on this blog for making my lonely writer's existence a little less lonely and more like an online office. Thank you to the lurkers out there--you know who you are. Thank you to my readers . . . I appreciate all the emails I get . . . thank you, thank you, thank you.

Happy Holiday!

Peace,
E