A Year of Thanks

1 post a day for 365 days showing gratitude

cleaned house and healthy kid April 17, 2010

Filed under: noticing sweetness,work — courtsbrogno @ 8:56 pm

Bliss. From 8a.m.-2p.m, I experienced true bliss. Luke was with his father. Maddie was with her cousin.

What did I do with this free time? Did I watch a movie? Go back to bed? Loung and read a good book? Nope.

I cleaned and graded in peace. It was wonderful. I had a plan and I stuck to it. I would grade five essays and then clean a room in my house.

Here’s the proof.

My desk, officially cleaned and organized (and notice the graded essays):

Luke’s play shelves (they will stay this way until tomorrow morning):

My living room:

My kitchen:

The best part is that as soon as Luke got home, we rushed off to play at the park, run some errands, and then went to hang out at my sister’s house. There, Luke and his cousins wrecked havoc on their house, and by the time we got home, it was bath time and bed time, so not a single thing in my house is out of place. It still looks clean and beautiful.

Today, I am thankful for a clean house.

I’m also thankful for a healthy kid. Today, at the park, Luke and I were playing in the sand. He was sitting in front of me, his back toward me. All of the sudden he started coughing, and when I turned him around, I noticed he had something in his mouth. My worst fear: an old, gross toy? Nope, I could only wish. Rather he had a cigarette butt, and though I swept it out of his mouth with speed I’ve never before used, I believe he probably swallowed some. Terrified that this was going to end in some sort of weird nicotine poisoning, I called a friend of mine who’s a nurse. Her response: “Don’t worry. Kids eat cigarettes all the time. They’re usually fine, so long as they don’t eat more than 10.”

Well, he only ate a small amount, I believe. No more than, perhaps, a quarter teaspoon. He’s fine. Healthy. And I am thankful for that. But, I think I threw up in my mouth when it happened, and I’m still incredibly grossed out.


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