I have poison ivy. Not like a small patch of poison ivy on which I spread a little pink lotion and all is better. I mean I really have poison ivy. Everywhere. Big, huge splotches covering my arms, legs, and entire upper torso. The kind of poison ivy that has led to sleepless nights when I can be found clawing at my skin. The kind of poison ivy that has left me crying tears of frustration.
This has been going on for four weeks. I have tried everything. . . Caladryl, Calamine, Tea Tree Oil, Hair Gel, Nail Polish Remover. . . (confession #17: I’m slightly doctor resistant. . . or prideful, call it what you will). Nothing has worked.
So, it is with an effort to get my eyes off my splotches and my hands away from scratching that I choose to be thankful. . .
I’m thankful that I have a little girl who loves pretty things. A little one who wants to put on a dress and twirl like a ballerina. A little girl who wants to have her nails painted, jewelry on, and headband always matching her outfit. A little girl who wants to be a “princess” only because she likes to and not because she has anything to prove. This little girl has taught me that it’s okay to want to look pretty and really, it doesn’t take work. Beauty is being just who you are.
I am thankful for these two people. May I introduce you to my in-laws? From day one they have accepted me into their family as one of their own. They have embraced me just as I am. They raised a really good boy. . . two of them, actually. Now, they are helping us raise our wee-ones. I could not have designed two better people to have as in-laws.
I am thankful for these smiling faces. Who are they, you ask? These are my siblings My older brother and my younger sister. I. love. them. We are as different as different can be. Sweet, sour, and salty. North, south, and east. Happy, Grumpy, Sleepy. (I won’t assign names to any of these). You get the idea. As different as we are, we genuinely like each other and enjoy each others company. Really, we do. They are pretty awesome. Our lives have changed dramatically since this picture was taken. . . we’ve gone though some pretty tough stuff. They have softened the blow for me. They have allowed me to be different and loved me for it. I’m a lucky, lucky girl.
I’m thankful for those big hands. (That is my Dad’s hand. . . holding Charlie’s hand). Even though I don’t remember much, I know that those big hands held mine so many years ago. I’m thankful that even though the hands had to let go, the heart never did. That heart is still so connected to mine because that is what parenthood is. . . letting go, but really, truly never letting go. And when those big hands hold the hands of my little ones, I am over-whelmed with the profound splendor of the circle of life.
I am thankful for this man. My husband. The father of my children. The man with whom I joined my life just over nine years ago. My very best friend. The man who has made me feel more safe and secure than any other person in the entire world. The man who has let me be me, in all my forms, and has accepted each one of them. The most patient person I have ever known. The man who sees my passions and lays the path to them. The man who has taught me what it means to slow down. The man who I look at from afar and still think to myself, I can’t believe he’s mine. The man who works so hard, day in and day out, and never, ever complains. The man who wraps his arms around our beautiful children and is met with squeals of delight. The man who knows how to play, just as hard as he works. This is my husband, Chad. I adore him.
I could go on forever. I have much for which I am thankful. I’ll spare you for tonight. You know what’s funny? As I wrote this post, my itching subsided. I think that’s pretty cool. Maybe it was because I got my eyes off of my problem, even for just a bit. . .
. . . or maybe it was the shot and the lotion the doctor gave me today.
Oh, did I forgot to tell you that? In an effort to get over myself (read: pride). . . I made a doctors appointment today.
Maybe it was a combination of both. Either way, there is one thing I know for sure. . .