Well, here it is, the Sunday after Thanksgiving, and not a thankful post in sight. Were you beginning to think me ungrateful? Busy, yes. Overly emotional, definitely. But ungrateful? Absolutely not. I've been welling up so much inside with thankfulness that I couldn't quite get my thoughts together well enough to communicate them. So, if you don't mind, I'd like to give it a try today...
I'm thankful for a husband who is always happy to see me, even when I'm going on three days straight in the same pair of pjs... A man who thinks I'm beautiful no matter what, always makes me laugh, and supports me in the midst of every situation. I don't talk enough about him on my blog, mostly because it makes him uncomfortable, but Nathan Allen Jackson is the most incredible man I have ever known. Last night I was a little irritated, telling him, "I'm only 10 1/2 weeks pregnant and I'm already showing," to which he replied, "I know, and I love it."
I'm thankful for my sweet Milo, a little bundle of energy, completely enveloped in such a sweet disposition. Milo is like a tiny little Nate, which means I'm twice blessed, and he inherited his daddy's sense of humor. The other day I was changing his diaper and he somehow got some diaper cream on his finger and put it into his mouth. I made a huge fuss of it, telling him how gross that was and how we don't put those things in our mouths. He told me, as plain as day, "Tastes good to me!" This morning we were reading a book that had a little family of skunks crossing the street. He pointed them out, and I asked him, "What are they doing, Milo?" I fully expected him to say, "Walking," or to perhaps count them (yes, he counts). Instead he told me, "Being stinky." If I could bottle up Milo's sunshine and hand it out, no one would ever be sad again.
I'm thankful for this new sprout that has me thinking of new baby names, looking at baby girl clothes (just in case), and being completely un-ladylike. I'm burping at all hours of the day and night and having such an issue brushing my teeth without puking that I can smell my breath at all times. But when I think of so many people who can't have kids, or who have lost them, I realize that feeling sick means that I know at all times that my little sprout is healthy and strong, growing separate fingers and toes and perfect little ears and becoming exactly what Yahweh intended for our family. Talk about a miracle.
I'm thankful for my family. For a mom who spent most of her life tenderly caring for some pretty amazing (I might be a little biased) kids. For a mother-in-law (whom I really consider just my second mom) who is so wonderful and knows just the right time to text me and brighten my day. For sisters (and sister-in-laws) who share advice, clothes, tears, and laughter (and who will vacuum my house, go to the store for me, and bathe my child when I just can't get up). For a brother who terrorized me the first half of his life, worried me the second half, and is now growing up to be quite an impressive man, and for brother-in-laws who feel more like protective big brothers that have looked out for me my whole life. For nieces and nephews who are brilliant, precious, and special, each in their own ways. For all my extended family and friends who make me feel surounded with love wherever I go.
I'm thankful for a budget that has taught me that everything I need is always provided for, and saved me the time of pining for things I don't have.
I'm thankful for cool weather and the scent of Fall that I catch here and there outside.
I'm thankful for knitting projects and new yarn.
I'm thankful for Bingo on the iPad, although I will admit, Nate and I should never set foot in a casino.
I'm thankful for this gorgeous time with my family on Thanksgiving, everyone tucked in to my cozy living room. Ann and Matt were in from Houston. Mikey was in from College Station. My Dants were in from Colorado. We were all together and I couldn't decide whether to weep or laugh or just sit back and soak it in (I did a bit of all of them). We had seven little Indians, who went on a feather scavenger hunt in the yard to make headdresses (I bought the feathers - don't be concerned. My mother never let me pick up bird feathers my entire childhood, mentioning the myriad of bacteria to be found on them, and I've continued the tradition into my adulthood). Lily ended up with the most feathers, so she told Conner, "I have the most feathers, so I'm the Indian chief." Conner calmly replied, "No, it makes you the turkey."
I am thankful. I am most certainly very thankful.