ripped jeans

It is raining and I love it.  

Although I saw something about it being 80 again later this weekend.  

I'm hoping it's a fluke. 

This morning I am grateful for the rain.

For a dentist in the family who can fix my cracked tooth.  

      (While mindlessly enjoying chocolate chips straight from the bag, I crunched down on something hard,    and thought that I was going to get a free bag from Nestles, and then wondered what I was crunching on.  Is it sad that the order of thoughts was such?  Either way, Nestle did not put glass or gravel in my bag of chocolate chips, my molar split in half.  It is great.  I feel really good about it.  It is not visible, but if it were, I would be hiding out until November when we head to Oregon.)

I am grateful that I get to tell you about walking out to the car on monday with baby in car seat.

You see, after picking up Becks from school, we were heading to Irvine to have a birthday lunch for Nate with his parents.  I couldn't wear drawstring pants to this lunch, so I tried to squeeze into the nicer of the 2 pair of fat jeans that I have.  They are long, and require heels.   I am not graceful in heels.  

I had a diaper bag and keys in one hand, and the car seat in the other, walking down stairs.  Just when I started to question the wisdom in this decision, down I went. Face first.  Baby and all. 

I am grateful for car seats that compensate for poor mothering. 

Baby was fine. 

I was in pain, with ripped jeans and a bloody knee.  

I am grateful we live on a dead end and that nobody saw.  

We were late, no time to change, and p.s, nothing to change into.  

My knee is still healing, and my jeans are no longer nice jeans.

I am grateful that I can laugh about the fact that while carrying in groceries yesterday, with the baby needing to eat, and Becks and Marley fighting over who gets to stand on the stool to peel their orange over the sink, my shirt caught on the stove knob and turned the flame on and before I could set down the 12th load from my arms, I started to smell burnt plastic and saw that the 5 lbs of bread I just bought and set on the stove were on fire and now toast with plastic bag melted to it.  

And I am grateful that I didn't swear when 30 seconds after that Beckham stands in the middle of the kitchen and starts puking.  It splashed all the groceries that had just been brought in. 

I am grateful for wet wipes that make my life a little bit easier. 

I pray that I have no good stories to tell tomorrow. 

If you live in my neck of the woods, happy rainy day!