1. Thank you for the anonymous commenter of the week:
“You might want to take heed to what your Nanny has to say, she is only trying to lead you to the Lord. She cares where you and your kids will spend eternity. Try reading the Bible yourself, it is so full of truth regarding our future. Jesus died on the cross so that we wouldn't have to spend eternity in Hell, except him as your Savior.”
I had just been thinking there really aren’t enough people in the world today who are concerned about where the souls of dead people may or may not spend eternity. You know, forget about all of the suffering and injustice in the world – I mean why would a benevolent God want you to worry your dumb little head about any of that nonsense anyway?
But take heart Anonymous - my husband has been trying to get me to except Jesus from my life for years now. I’m just not ready – maybe someday.
2. Thank you for the latest love of my blog life: It’s not often that I find a new favorite person by virtue of e-mail forward, but Johnny Virgil’s blog is so hilarious.
3. Thank you for people who commit random acts of kindness:
Have I ever told you that my Little One hates cheese? To be more general, he hates most everything that contains more than 5 calories per pound (which is how he got to be my “little” one, I suspect), but that’s another post for another day.
Last Sunday I took my kids (who insisted on dressing as Spiderman and Black Spiderman) to New Seasons for groceries, where we ordered a pizza (which Little One is rarely willing to eat) for dinner while we shopped. The pizza maker said, “You have some hungry spidermen?”
One of the many reasons I love New Seasons is they support local farmers, unlike, say, Wild Oats. Note to Wild Oats: I live in the Pacific Northwest for Christ sake, you don’t need to fly all the way to Israel to find an apple to sell me.
Not that I’m cranky about food politics, I’m just sayin’.
So when we went to pay for our pizza, I saw that the pizza maker had written on the box, “Free – Superhero Discount” and a smiley face. And I sent my superheroes over to thank him, because I was trying to check out. When we got to the car, J asked, “Why did they give us our pizza for free?”
I said, “Because they think you guys are cute.”
And he said, “You mean they think we’re real?”
“Yes!” I said, “They think you’re real.”
Oh they were proud. And when we got home and sat down to eat Little One began telling me about how they serve cheese pizza at school, and he doesn’t eat it, because he doesn’t like cheese. And I said, “Oh, well we don’t have cheese pizza tonight, we have SUPERHERO pizza!”
And he happily ate two whole pieces, cheese and all. New Seasons totally rocks (and they’re not paying me to say so).
4. Thank you for a marriage that remains young at heart, even after all these years:
Remember how in the Charlie Brown cartoons whenever an adult would talk, the kid would just hear, “Wah wah wah wah?” That has always cracked my husband and me up. (And now as parents, we’ve learned that, unfortunately, it’s a rather profound observation too.)
Recently I was in desperate need of a shower, but I wanted to exercise first, so I pulled my greasy hair into a pony tail, put on six layers of sweats (because it was freezing in here) and then the kids said, “Mama, can’t you play Go-Fish with us?”
And they’re cute, so I couldn’t say no, even though I looked like the Pillsbury dough boy and was very anxious to get my run over with and have a hot shower. The next thing I know my husband was videotaping us. “I do not want to see myself looking like this on You Tube,” I said.
“Wah wah wah wah,” he answered.
“You heard me,” I warned.
”Well,” he shrugged, “we’ll see what you write about me on your blog this week.”
Ah, the never-ending joy of being mature adults in a mature relationship.
5. Thank you for kids who, apparently, listen to me sometimes, and for family members who try to help them have a good life anyway:
My mother-in-law always cooks a fabulous Thanksgiving dinner, and all I was supposed to do was show up at 2:00, bring the kids, and bring a pie. You’d think even I could handle it, but no.
(I should further mention that I had offered to bring the pie, because the kids really wanted to make a pumpkin pie with me for Thanksgiving.)
When we’d almost completed the 45 minute drive (and were right on schedule to be unfashionably late) J said, “Mama, did you bring our pie?”
“We’ll stop at a store,” my husband said, “no one will care.”
“They won’t have fresh whipped cream at the store!” I whined, “I care!”
So my husband said I just had to get Cool Whip at the store, and my choices were “South Beach Diet Cool Whip,” “Cool Whip Lite,” “Strawberry Cool Whip,” and generic “Original Whipped Topping.” So I went with the generic, even though the ingredients totally grossed me out. And when I got in the car I said to my husband, “I don’t know if Cool Whip is actually this gross or if it’s just because it’s generic, but…”
(The dot dot dot is the endless complaining that my husband’s obligated to listen to, but you aren’t so I’m sparing you.)
At dessert time, J got hold of my mother-in-law in the kitchen and said, “Nana, it’s unfortunate that we have to put that whipped cream on our pie because it’s just made out of a bunch of chemicals.”
And in keeping with the spirit of the rest of my friends and family who try their best to help my kids not grow up to be weird like me, she answered, “Oh Nana just loves all those chemicals – they are yummy!”
And everyone enjoyed the store-bought pie, with a host of atrocious ingredients masquerading as “whipped cream” on top.
Bonus Round: Thank you for all the people who read this blog and find my silliness and self-indulgence entertaining.