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This week I am grateful for my feet.
They don’t slosh around when I walk and look like a balloon I blew up like they do when I am retaining water when I am pregnant!
I can walk! And Run! And Pivot! And Dance! And do all the things!
Her hand grasps a fist full of my shirt as if she wants to pull me closer, look me in the eyes, and level with me:
Listen up, this is important, I need you. You are exactly perfect for me.
For most of us there is definitely an insufficient amount of sleep. Always.
When baby comes out and we gage whether that baby is good enough by if they sleep well. I guess you would describe every single one of my kids as bad kids/sleepers. For years I have woken up multiple times a night to either comfort a screaming child, or to return a child back to their bed who has been in my bed for who knows how long.
I just found out that one of my friends has lost most of her vision permanently in one eye due to a stroke.
My eyes, my vision, I totally take it for granted, I just expect them to show up for me daily and do what I need. In fact most of the time the notice I give my eyes are looking at the color, or wishing my eyelids weren’t so thick so I could put eyeshadow on differently.
The pivotal week 6!
We all know what I’m talking about.
I’m supposed to be completely healed and intimacy can resume.
I immediately thought of the painting by Angelica Kauffman: Cornelia presenting her children as her treasures (Art history nerd here.) and being overcome by the same feeling, these sweet babes that sometimes drive me crazy are the most treasured thing in my life. They are all wonderful human beings!
