I’m grateful, truly I am. Roof over our heads, food on the table, money to pay the bills and from time to time visit a fancy restaurant like Chipotle or Granite City. I have three healthy kids, a beautiful granddaughter and a husband who still wants to hold my hand all the time. I have been on the opposite end of the financial and romantic spectrum, so suffice it to say I know whereof I speak.
I’m also grateful for things other people might not think of as worthy of appreciation—for instance, my gift of sarcasm. So when we drew the prompt where you had to start a story with the words “I’m grateful”, I immediately snarked it up.
I’m grateful that years ago before a doctor’s appointment, I was able to help my middle daughter learn to pronounce “vaginal” correctly without laughing.
I like to think I spared her the embarrassment I endured when my 7th grade science teacher asked our class what the hangy thing in the back of the throat is called.
Turns out “vulva” was not the answer he was searching for. That day, I comforted my 12 year old self with the thought that I didn’t need social acceptance and popularity anyway.
Fast forward 35 years, and guess what…that social acceptance and popularity thing is on its way because my youngest daughter just told me that in another week or so her six new puppies will be winged. If that’s the case we’ll all be so popular we’ll have to move. I’m grateful I have days off coming because puppies are a lot of work to begin with, but flying puppies and a nine month old—that’s a recipe for disaster.
I’m grateful for the fact that I got shingles right before my daughter’s 21st birthday, so that I was forced to cancel plans to take my granddaughter for the weekend like I had promised months prior so she could celebrate. I’m also grateful that I didn’t have to worry about sleeping while I was suffering with that wretched condition, because that gave me plenty of time to worry about a worrisome secondary rash and the mushroom of a cold sore on my lip. It also gave me extra time to drunk-google late at night terms like “duration of shingles” or “shingles rash” or “should you drink when you have shingles” or my personal favorite, “how many people die per year from shingles”.
|Actual shingles that were on my back.|
ps. Good news. I didn't die. But it sure did burn.
I’m also really, truly grateful that when I finally was able to give my husband the seductive come-hither green light after the whole shingles/cold sore fiasco, Aunt Flo decided to come for an extended visit. She didn’t just bring an overnight bag like she normally did but in fact the biggest, bulkiest suitcases she owned and jammed them in my uterus but good. I’m plotting her demise and she will be grateful when her death finally arrives.
I’m grateful for the snowfall that prevented our family from a 2 hour drive into Plainfield on New Year’s Day for a delayed Christmas celebration to see family I don’t see often. I hadn’t gone grocery shopping because I knew we’d be in Plainfield, so there was hardly anything edible in the house. However, it’s good to experience true hunger once in a while. Thankfully we were able to gag down all of those old, questionable leftovers and dry Christmas cookies whilst face-timing with the Plainfield crowd, watching everyone eat spinach dip and cheese potatoes.
I’m also really grateful they didn’t let me know ahead of time they were going to call, because it’s good for my family to see what I look like with no makeup, glasses on, and hair scraped into a brutally oily ponytail. In case they weren’t buying all those gorgeous selfies I post online.
I’m grateful for the guy who maintained a 4 inch distance between the front of his vehicle and the rear of mine the other night as we drove through blinding snow during rush hour. Your thoughtlessness kept my mind off of how slick the roads were that night. Especially helpful was the rage that kept me warm all the way home.
And speaking of slick, I’m grateful for the Kenyan sprinter masquerading as our black lab. It’s good to test my own speed slalom skills in the back yard from time to time while being dragged behind a speedboat of a dog. It keeps me limber. He also helps me keep the ligaments in my shoulders stretched as he sprints off the icy back porch, yanking me with him.
And with all the things I have to be grateful for, I need to stay in the best shape possible.