I am a grateful, thank-you type, especially since S and T came into my life. Huge, massive gratefulness there, never enough thank-you’s for these 2 miracles.
Then there are the things I don’t notice much—vital little things popping out at me as I’m rushing by with a wet, muddy boy in my arms, reminding me: oh, yes, I must acknowledge these ordinary miracles that keep our lives so rich.
For instance: the bananas hook. Fabulous! I’m so happy to sling my bananas on it rather than have them cluttering up and falling off (to be smushed beyond recognition by my urban-flip flops) the counters in our counters-challenged kitchen. Who thought of this hook business? A sailor? An inmate? Al Gore? They have my gratitude.
The pith helmet! So shade-providing when gardening, and also, since the pith helmet happens to be resting on it: the changing table pad! What marvelous inventions! How lucky I am to own and utilize both, even though my husband hates pith helmets and grimaces whenever I wear mine. “Why are you wearing that hat? You’re not supposed to be able to knock on a hat, unless you’re in construction. It’s all wrong! Ugh!” Huh. I suppose I could say the same when he wears his—his—can’t think of anything he wears that’s hideous. Bugger! Back to the changing pad: lucky that my toddler will lie on it without a fuss! Not so lucky the toddler is not potty trained yet, but thank goodness for the training toilet, not to mention its other uses when the toddler has obviously decided he will wear diapers until he’s a teenager.
And John Leguizamo’s screams as Sid the Sloth in “Ice-Age”. Marvelous! I laugh and laugh. I laugh more than the toddler. Ah, joy.
When I’m lying on my back in T’s room and he’s piling his stuffed animal collection on top of me for the 200th time in 10 minutes, I gaze up at the ceiling and—jellyfish! So pleasant. So Zen inducing when sock monkey is heading for my eyeballs.
Jimmy Zangwow’s Out Of This World Moonpie Adventure never gets old, no matter how many times we read it, and despite my toddler failing to appreciate the voice I use for the Martians. In my Martian voice, I ask my toddler: Why. Are. You. Put. Ing. Your. Hand. O-ver. Mama’s. Mouth… Seriously! Didn’t I used to have a therapist?
Z Bars, cantaloupe and free-from-god-awful-chemicals canisters. And, in the distance, wooden blocks that hold kitchen knives…
Giraffe doorstops.
Glow balls. I mean, come on!: Oooooooh!
Grass.
Hugely original artwork.
And now that I’ve forgotten what this post is supposed to be about, the toddler just now in the bath with Dadda (bedtime O where art thou), it hits me: I love little moments like these, between bath and bed, when I may play with words in the sudden quiet of my bedroom, computer on my lap, finches snoozing in the trees outside the windows, world calming, the calm before the week, the breath between breaths, the jellyfish AND the pith helmet, treasures all—ordinary miracles—one of a kind.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
WWW.PBRIPPEY.COM
Thank YOU! For once again making me chuckle. Brilliantly written. Love it.
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