I'm sitting here on the couch, guzzling my swig, and willing J to go to sleep with my mind powers.
It's not working very well - he's currently screaming in his crib and banging the rails with is bottle.
It's been a rough 24 hours. J woke up screaming and covered from the waist down in crap. So, as you can imagine, this means that his mattress, stuffed animals, bumper, and crib were also covered. This is the fourth time in 24 hours that this has happened, so that means lots of laundry, lots of baths, and lots of washing and rewashing the crib and mattress. And yesterday, I tripped over the dog while trying to feed J and twisted my ankle - it's still bruised and sore today. With my slightly more limited mobility, I haven't been able to be as productive as I wanted so there are toys scattered everywhere, dishes to be done, laundry to put away, etc.
But, as I look around my living room, I can't help but smile and feel grateful.
The piles of clean laundry on the couch mean that we have clothes to wear and blankets to snuggle in and that we can wash them easily and conveniently.
The toys on the floor mean that a happy boy lives and plays here.
The sounds of my kid calling for "mom mom mom mom mom" means that he knows me and loves me (or just wants me to come rescue him from his crib, but I'm gonna go with the first one).
The couch I'm sitting on while propping up and icing my foot means that we have somewhere comfortable to rest and relax and call our home.
The dirty dishes in the sink (and on the counters, and in the dishwasher) mean that we have food to eat.
We are so blessed.
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