On Friday, my mom dropped in at my work to drop off a set of brand new bed sheets for me. A few weeks ago I hold told her how my foot went through my exhisting sheet and ripped a hole in it the size of the length of my body.
We never talked about it again, but somehow she must have known I have procastinated in buying a new set and've been sleeping on a spare duvet cover.
When she stopped by, Drew, who was with me at work because he had woken up with a sore throat and snotty nose, asked if he could go home with her and have an overnighter.
She left my office with a mildly sick but thrilled 11 year old boy and 4 boxes of envelopes that needed labeling before my big mailing on Monday morning.
I am loved.
Three things I'm thankful for:
1. That my kids totally and completely enjoyed participating in the party that took place at the cabin on Saturday night. I was skeptical... afterall, the place was filled with many mature 20-something-year-old germans with delightful german accents, playing games my kids had never heard of. Thanks Persis, for including them in your birthday celebration. (Johnny, if you're reading this - Jason arrived safe and sound. Have you noticed that he looks just like you? Oh. My. Goodness. )
2. That while the party with all the german accents was taking place, I got to have tea and adult conversation with a writing friend, while fending off her attention-seeking hound.
3. That two out of three of my sons told me they loved me tonight. Two out of three ain't bad. Meatloaf. (If you don't know what that means you are either at least 10 years older or 10 years younger than me.)
Shalom,
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