graceful and grateful

Tonight (the same night as I wrote the previous post begging my child to cut me some slack), I was nursing our girl. Each evening I do this, I think of a post Rachel wrote when her girl was young. She said she used the constant nursing as time to pray. Some nights I do, as well, other nights I play word mole on R's phone. But tonight he was gone and I was feeling reflective. See, my husband is sitting in a Minneapolis airport waiting to come home, after arriving there at 3 am today. He called tonight and I gave him the low-down of our fussy afternoon. I wasn't complaining (like most days), just talking. But as I fed MK, I thought of the last few months. We all know how unexpectedly challenging they were for me. I recently wrote a post on marriage but it remains in the draft box thinking it may be too personal, even for me. A small bit of it was about needing my husband to understand just how hard this new 'job' is. I have been concerned, sometimes justifiably, sometimes not, that R sees this job as a woman's dream, the biggest blessing in the world with no reason for angst or frustration. And I've been hell bent on making sure he knows it is as hard or harder than his paying job. While dinner may be on the stove and I may even have lipstick on, you better believe he gets spewed on with the bad of the day. I think that I have not been willing to share the joyous parts because I need him to understand the bad parts. The damage there has been that by not sharing the joys, I haven't reflected on them myself and have let the bad days erase the greatness of the good days.

So feeding gal tonight, I let myself choose the joy over the difficulty of the past few hours. I don't need to tell y'all of the blessings of being at home with your babe. But I needed to remind myself how freakin' awesome it is to see her reach out to Monty for the first time, to squeal at the Christmas lights, to eat her first bite of rice cereal like it is filet mignon, to hear her first laughs and her glass shattering squeals, to get to smother her in kisses for more than an hour in the morning and evening. I sat in that rocker and let myself think of all the good. And (hello sherlock) it felt so much better than thinking about how she cried for the last two hours. I started thinking that even if Ross does think that these days at home are all rasberry kisses and mother-daughter bonding, that's okay. Because it feels better to feel grateful.

I thought too about my conversation with Ross earlier.  I thought about how much I would hate to fly out of Atlanta at midnight into a blizzard, arrive at 3 am, be in a meeting by 8 and be back in the airport a few hours later only to be delayed again. And what did my husband want to tell me about his day? Not the snow, the frigid temps, not driving in weather he's never driven in, not his 4 hour nights sleep. He wanted me to know how amazing his omelet was at the continental breakfast at the Hilton. If that man can focus on the awesomeness of an omelet, surely I can find some positivity in my day at home with my favorite butterball on the earth. And I did tell him about the good. I spared him the gory details of the last few hours and told him how cute his kid was. For a quick minute, I felt graceful. What a refreshing feeling that was.

I guess the take-a-way for this overly analytical gal is that it just feels better to express gratitude and interact with my husband with grace. He may think I have the easiest job in the world. And that's okay (I'll leave him with her Saturday and he'll see. Or maybe he won't. Y'all know she'll be on her best, sweetest, cuddliest behavior with dad). The job will be a little easier if I remind myself that it may be challenging, but it really is the best job in the world.

To my husband, thank you for working your freezing tail off for us. Thank you for wanting to sacrifice the new car and the bigger house and the SEC championship ticket to give our family this great gift. To Rachel, thank you for the reminder to pray as I rock that little girl, opening the door for the holy spirit to inspire me toward grace and gratitude.