channeling erma bombeck

on a monday, i took a pregnancy test. all the symptoms have been there. and at the 2 minute mark, there it was, in a faint vertical line, marking the plus sign i was dreading/hoping for.

we painted the house. jason cut his foot. bella started back to school. i woke up on a wednesday morning with the sinus infection to beat all sinus infections.

on a sunday night, the floodgates of my uterus burst open with such fervor and searing pain, that i understood my daydreams of blue or pink were meant to be tucked away.and with classes starting the next day, i understood God has other plans.

i've been thinking alot lately, on the subject of love.

i'm new to, but loving the series, "the cleaner". we enjoyed Michael J Fox's "Adventures of an Incurable Optimist" last night, and i'm blown away by his joyous and persevering spirit. i loved it when he said "i think its about doing the next right thing. it doesn't have to be doing the next thing right."

i shared my willie story with my sister and she had a different take on the situation. she asked me, 'what if he had been just simply overwhelmed by someone showing him kindness and love, that he responded with a sort of unbridled gratitude.

well, something to that extent.

i think she has a point. its funny, i've not seen willie again since that day. and i wonder about him from time to time.

some days i feel far from accompished. and today, when i ache and hurt and have managed to move only from the bed to the couch, i look at everything i haven't done and that needs to be done, in my mind. but i forget sometimes, that that's ok. and that this too shall pass, and all of this that i do, matters. it counts.

with respect to a dear fellow blogger,i'd like to borrow an excerpt that really hit home the other day.

Often I allow myself to think that being at home with my children, reading to and with them, and going on short day trips with them doesn't count as much as...

I think that sitting poolside and watching them play in the pool doesn't count as much as ...

I think that cooking for them, even though I hate to cook, doesn't count as much as...

I think I don't count as much as... because I'm not earning a salary.

I think that I don't count as a good example of the real women, the strong women, the women who are good role models because those women don't earn master's degrees and then stay home with their kids for the next 15+ years.

I forget that reading and journaling and taking photos and telling our stories and welcoming friends to share our lives and praying and writing all count.

I forget that remembering those that I love in prayer and kind thoughts and moments of simple soul-deep connectedness, even when separated from them by hundreds or thousands of miles - I forget that it counts.

I forget that smiles and waves and "please" and "thank you" count.

I forget that responding to emails and phone calls and text messages counts.

I forget that me being me, failing and falling apart, strong and weak, loving and laughing out loud, weeping, growing, being defiant, being compliant, reaching out, reaching in, being silent, grateful, discontented, writing, not writing, cooking, not cooking, cleaning, not cleaning, teaching and not teaching - I forget that me living my life to the fullest, it counts. Big time.

Letting go of what is not kind or generous or thoughtful counts too. Choosing not to retaliate, not to criticize, not to engage in needless debate counts.Apologizing, forgiving, releasing old grudges count.Breathing, simply inhaling and exhaling, taking many long, slow breaths before responding, sometimes choosing silence, always seeking to foster calmness and welcome gentleness - it all counts.

I forget far too often that it all counts. Every single minute of it.