Well this is obvious, but it must be said:
I am thankful for my five beautiful brown babies.
Five kids who were placed in my arms by the very hand of God...
and who have since given me ever-deepening wrinkles and an urgent need for highlights in my hair.
Kids who cause me to go without makeup more often than not, then exclaim in happy surprise when I do manage to emerge from my bathroom with warpaint because...
"Mom, you look pretty!" (Insert incredulous...how did you walk in like that and come out like that expression)
Bare Minerals makeup is my friend, just fyi.
Hot breakfasts are a rarity...unless you count the microwave pancakes and frozen waffles, thanks to the presence of 5 babes under my roof and in my kitchen.
Sometimes we just wing it...go all crazy and stuff and have fruit with our chicken nuggets...because mom is gourmet like that.
My kids are responsible for the piles of laundry, the dishes, the leaves on my carpet, and the glue in my hair. They are the reason my fingernails have not seen nail polish in at least a year, and for my toenails having white crackle paint that stayed on WAY past cute and quirky until they were just, um, trashy.
They are the reason I am learning American History again...and Geography...and oh heck I might as well be honest, 4th grade math. Ok? Are ya happy?
My kids make me notice things that, before, escaped my vision...worms, creepy-crawlies, a perfect red leaf in the grass, and that cloud shaped like Jesus.
My kids have stretched my imagination and my heart...and they have been better teachers than I ever hope to be. They love me unconditionally...even when I embarrass them by getting FIVE STARS on THRILLER while playing the Michael Jackson Experience (oh yes I did!!) They hide their face in shame when I dance in the car, while wearing a big black afro because DJ changed HIS mind about wearing it and didn't believe me when I said I would. I turned up "Stayin' Alive" loud enough for neighboring cars to hear and relished their groans of embarrasment and uncontrollable laughter at this crazy woman they call Mom.
My kids fight and bicker and laugh and love and learn and play and make messes and sometimes clean up and make me crazy busy and darn it all if I don't love them more than life and wish time would just slow down for crying out loud.
My kids are a part of me...etched into my soul. I am a mom because I am their mom, their REAL mom in every important and God-defined sense of the word. I am fulfilled because my arms and my life are filled to overflowing by five busy, energetic, strong-willed, and hilarious children who suck every shred of energy from me by the end of the day until I go skidding sideways into my bed and pass out in the middle of the first paragraph of that book I have intended to read for over a month now.
Yes, I am thankful that I am never going to remember what it was like to have a quiet house because I am that barren woman whom the Lord settled in her home as a happy mother of children.
Praise the Lord and thank you, Jesus!
Oh, and is it wrong that I may not tell them about the impending time change for a couple of days after? I mean, y'all, it's a whole extra HOUR!