Some days you just put one foot in front of the other.
You don’t run, you simply walk, and it’s brave even when it might not look that way from the outside. Some days you take a newborn to your dentist appointment and when she starts to cry you just smile and tell him, “Better work fast, doc.” Some days you sit in a parking garage and change a baby on your lap, with a facecloth and a bottle of water because you forgot to pack the wipes.
Some days when you thought you’d treat yourself to Starbucks you end up getting a mouthful of Novocain instead so you just keep driving and suck on the pop tart your son left behind after “breakfast.” Some days you end up being on time when you thought you’d be late and you feel like a super hero because of it.
Some days you let a friend into your home without tidying up first and it feels wonderful. Some days the two hours you spend laughing with her over diaper blow outs, nursing faux pas, and the wonder of losing 20 pounds thanks to one tiny baby is more precious than all the laundry she folds for you while she’s visiting. But dang, if that folded laundry ain’t miraculous too.
Some days are long, but full of beauty – if only you are willing to find it in the most unlikely of places. Like in an empty laundry basket, a full fridge, and a clean stove. Like in a pile of little boys’ socks, a husband who walks home from the train station so you don’t have to come out at night, and the blog comments from strangers whose stories are so achingly familiar they reach through the computer screen and wrap themselves tight around your heart.
I mean you.
You with the honesty and laughter and living room that looks like mine. You with the battle zone for a playroom and the sense of humor that never quits. You with the ability to see wonder in a pile of diapers and joy in a two am feeding.
Thank you so much for being part of my some days, these days.
I would so have you all over for chocolate cake and coke floats if I could. Here’s to you!