Mysteries, thrillls and chills . . . one story at a time.
I am a blessed woman.
I remind myself every morning when I wake in a sound mind and body. I remind myself when things aren’t going the way I think they should, when family disappoints, when friends disappear, when self doubt creeps in.
I am blessed.
I have the most beautiful man-child ever created. I love it when he pretends to be embarrassed when I call him “my poo” in public or when I make ‘miration about his pretty round booty or those deeply lashed pools of chocolate he calls eyes.
Yes. Sometimes I am THAT mom.
I love watching the tenderness he shows towards babies and small children. Or when he’s wrestling with our dog Zoey, even after I’ve told them a million times not to play in the house.
I love how when after I’ve lost my temper with him, “cranky mommy” is not fun to be around at all. I come back to apologize and he smiles at me, dimples tease, flash of white teeth and he leans in for a hug and says, “That’s okay, mom.”
I am blessed.
Both my parents are alive and truly well, no chronic diseases, no doctors. They are active, social people –don’t even think about dropping by the house and expecting to find them lounging around. You better call first.
But I tell you, can’t nobody work my last nerves like my parents, ‘specially my mom. Oo-wee! Do they have any idea that I am a fully grown, independent woman in my own right?
Daddy feels it’s still his responsibility to tell me how to drive, the places I should and should not frequent, how to pay my bills. Mom criticizes my clothes, my hair . . . my weight. My make-up . . . my lack of make-up, my parenting skills. Sheesh!
And just when I swear that I’m about to pick up and move to Bora Bora, lose their phone number and home address, I remember my friend who mourns every Mother’s Day, or my other friend who glares at me and tells me to stop complaining, the one who wishes her dad was still around to mean-mug her boyfriends.
Then I recall that despite all of the grief, I know that when I really have need or just need a dose of that loving that only a parent can give, those rare moments when the world has almost beaten me down, I can slip back into their fold and rest.
I am blessed.
I’m an introvert and I really don’t need a lot of socialization to be happy, in fact, too much will drive me into my cave for a week. People either love or hate me. I’ve never really understood that reaction but I recognize that people tend to make up their mind about me on sight. And whichever way it falls, that’s the way it sticks.
The ones who hate? They no longer register on my radar. But those who see me and love me? You are worth your weight in gold AND platinum to me. No bull shit, no drama.
Okay, so yes, you get on my nerves too. And yes, I see you gritting your teeth when I push too hard or pull away for too long but the bond remains strong.
I’m grateful. Thankful.
I am so blessed.
I serve a God who loves me enough to give His very best. . . a God who provides and has my back in spite of the fact that I so often don’t deserve it. I strive daily to be better than I am and I’m thankful that He gives me another day and countless opportunities to get it right.