After a horrible night's sleep, I dragged myself from the warmth and comfort of my bed and made pancakes for my children. My husband made bacon, the result of which was our most difficult to tear from his bed teen bounding out of bed at record speed. Upon finishing cooking breakfast, I immediately retreated to my bed, my body in near agony from the effects of rainy Christmas Eve weather combined with doing too much yesterday on my arthritis-damaged body.
I sit here on Christmas Eve morning, feeling blessed.
Even though Coren can't find the pantookas (apparently Dr. Seuss expects us to hang these from our ceiling). Even though I've managed to burn both hands over the past two days. Even though I'm still suffering the effects of a major allergy attack yesterday. Even though vicodin will barely take the edge off the pain I'm experiencing.
I am blessed.
I am blessed because I have five wonderful children who have wonderful senses of humor and of play. And who don't think it's odd at all when we ask them if they've found the pantookas yet. Because I have a loving husband who understands my need to retreat to bed after being up for less than two hours. God has blessed me with another day of life. The much needed rain is nourishing the earth. Bacon. Warm bed. Christmas music. Love come down. So many blessings.
Hang pantookas on the ceilings . Pile panpoonas on the floor. Trim every blessed needle on the blessed Christmas tree. Christmas comes tomorrow! Trim you, trim me!