Northwest Moms

I’m looking back over what has been without a doubt the weirdest year of my life, and feeling very grateful for every bizarre development!

Beautiful, healthy sons…I’m grateful now that I was wrong and it wasn’t perimenopause.

My husband’s job. Stable, flexible, and sufficient income…and he’s made it through the toughest year of his career.

My other four beautiful children. My little mini-mother…my loose cannon…my confident and funny senior who is beginning to show little flashes of real maturity…and my eldest, who has this endearing way of asking to hold the babies as though they are my personal treasured jewels instead of his own little brothers.

My three oldest friends: One I married, one is visiting for Thanksgiving, and one is far away geographically but right beside me in every other way, as I am her. My friends from our old town and my friends here. And others I’ve connected to on Facebook.

Facebook and the Utne Cafe and email. Being in touch.

Old-school handwritten letters and the friends I have who love them as I do.

Writing, period. Pens. Clean paper. Stationery stores. Bookstores. Oh, and bakeries!

Hot water. Hot showers, hot baths, hot tubs.

Hydrocodone. Because a separated shoulder HURTS.

Handel’s Messiah. As a symbol of all good music, and as itself.

The fact that the only way I can stop this list is by deliberately stopping, because I will never run out of things to put on it.