Remember Thanksgiving

Mondays suck.

There, I said it.

I’m typically not a gripe when it comes to starting an inevitable workweek, but there’s just something about Mondays that annoy me.

Take this morning, for example:

I woke up in the middle of the night to my son crying, “Mommy! Mommy!” I drug my body in its zombie-like state into his room only to discover that it was 6:30 a.m. — a mere half-hour before my alarm would sound. Grrr…

Thank you, Lord, for this big pile of leaves. It means I have a home in which to seek refuge, a chance for my child to experience the natural world and confirmation that the seasons still turn even when life gets too hectic to notice.

I later poked myself in the iris with an eyeliner pencil, and my watering eye promptly converted the right side of my face into an Alice Cooper look-alike.

My son, who apparently was having a less-than-stellar morning himself, took a step backwards in potty training when he had a meltdown, demanding a Cars pull-up over his big boy underwear. Not in the mood for a fight, I carried the Go Diego Go drawers in my fist into daycare when I dropped him off this morning.

And the banana I had for breakfast was bruised…

Wah. Wah. Wah.

How soon I have forgotten Thanksgiving. Just a few days earlier I leaned back on the couch with a plate of leftover dressing and paused once again to give thanks for my many blessings — a loving husband, a healthy son, a supportive family, a warm home, food on the table — important stuff that can easily go unnoticed and under appreciated.

I vowed this year to give myself a swift kick in the giblets if I ever take those things for granted.

We’ll all do ourselves some good to remember Thanksgiving, even as we stand on the brink of Christmas. I’m all for celebrating the birth of my Savior, giving over receiving and spreading a little holiday cheer, but it’s the spirit of Thanksgiving that keeps us humble and in the right frame of mind amid the chaos of daily life.

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