I am a funeral director for over-handled potato bugs, a recipient of daisies plucked from our weed patch, and the least surprised to find a comb taped to the outside of the bathroom drawer.
I am the kisser of a bonked nose and an ear that didn’t see the swing.
I am the cutter of carrots that nobody wants to eat, the picker-upper of pickles on the floor, and the provider of cheese sandwiches cut in squares.
I have ahhed over block structures, praised string cheese art, and put the kybosh on bowling in the house.
I have high-fived a reluctant hand washer, read The Best Nest in my singing voice and remembered it was garbage day on garbage day.
I have forgiven the child with scissors and held the same child in ‘time-out.’
I will be grateful when the ditty “There’s a Place in France…” leaves my head and when an idea for dinner pops in.
I will be practical…and
not expect the van to vacuum itself or the dog to stop shedding when I say, “stop shedding!”
I will give pause…and remember the toilets need scrubbing…and I’ll make note of that again tomorrow.
I will remember that even today is not guaranteed….
and I will consciously hug more, listen intently and…
and eat the chocolate I was saving.