The Love Letter

Tomorrow is the day of love. A day full of dethorned red roses and waxy chocolate boxes. An overpriced dinner dished up by an underpaid cook in a crowded restaurant. One day out of 365 when a man can gift cuddly teddy bears without losing his man card.  It's a holiday with the best of intentions.

But this year I'm not feeling it. Not even a little. I'm stressed that Tuesday my baby will be a mess of IV lines and heart-rate monitors. I'm stressed that for 6 full days we will be an ocean away from the two little things that mean the most to me on this earth. I'm stressed that I've made a poor choice regarding Claire's education that I can't take back. I'm stressed that the crunch-time planning sessions for a school carnival I am in charge of will take place when I should be worry-free on a sunny beach.

All those things stress me out. But the most stressful thing is that I can't stop myself from stressing, which is quite out of character for me. I can normally keep it in check. I'll hash out my feelings and dig through my worries on this here bloggity blog, take a deep breath and keep on keepin on.

Not this time.

It's consuming me.

But that's my fault. While I have no control over so much of what happens in life, I do have control over how I react. Well slap a nice big FAIL on that reaction these last few weeks, as was probably evident from my last post, ahem, rant.

So here I am putting on my big girl panties and changing that. It's pretty easy to get swallowed up in the negative when that's all you choose to focus on. Well here we go with that glass half-full business (I suspect if that glass contained a chocolate shake, that half-full mentality might come a bit easier. I'm just sayin'). I really didn't have to look that far to find all that is good in my life. In fact, I stumbled upon so much of what I love wrapped up in one simple picture above.

Things I Love (in no particular order):

Claire. A lot. She is such a misunderstood child, a difficult child really. But she doesn't have a care in the world. The worries of the world are a blur to her and as they scream by her she remains focused, determined and unfazed. I am blessed to have a child that reminds me of that every. single. day.

A driveway full of cars that do not belong to me. I am surrounded by people who would call 911 for a welfare check if they didn't hear from me in a few days. I am loved like that. And I am well taken care of by my friends and family. Emotional needs met daily. I often take that for granted.

A driveway full of cars that DO belong to me. We are not rich. Short of winning the lottery without ever buying a ticket, that will be a permanent reality. But we are comfortable. I have forgotten what it is like to truly need something. Do I still have wants? Sure. I mean who doesn't want to go on a repeat cruise with NKOTB (this is a rhetorical question because the answer is obvious. Deviate from the only acceptable answer & our friendship will be dissolved immediately). I was a promising gymnast without the means to explore that potential. My daughters will have that opportunity, as well as endless others. That is a blessing I am reminded of and am grateful for each time I wash a leotard.

A driveway full of chalk art, courtesy of Cora. She will be an artist. A great artist. She tells us that everyday.  And even if she lacked talent (which is not the case) she would still be an amazing artist. Because she believes herself to be. She allows me to continue dreaming big when adulthood begins to pull me into jaded territory.

A husband who is firmly planted. He is a strong man in every sense of the word. His job is solid. His values concrete. His love for his family and friends unwavering. He guides this family with a strength I rarely acknowledge. For him and all that he is, I am lucky.

A big green lawn. It is lifeless now. Brown. Useless. Ugly. But the memory of what it has potential to be gives me hope. What once was a drab winter eyesore will return again and act as a cushion for cartwheels and afternoon picnics. The ground will thaw and with patience, the beauty will return again.