what kind of world do you want?: this flawful dream

Cradling him like the baby he was too long ago, I rocked Axl into dreamland. Before he drifted off, though, he reached his chubby little hand up around my neck and pulled my head to his, cheek-to-cheek. And there we stayed. Peace. Bliss. It was one of the 7,235 reminders that I frequently miss every day that, "wow...I'm living my dream." I was kicking myself for not having my phone with me...there would be no proof of the script-perfect moment! And my elbow was crunching against the rocking chair's wooden arm. Like and ice-cruncher. And my eye that was closest to his head was suddenly housing a ball of sandpaper instead of an eyeball. And his sweet little breath was uncomfortably hot and blowing in my ear(major peeve - leave the ears alone). sigh...there is no way so-and-so has these little asides in the margins her dream of a life story. Well, maybe the do, but they probably don't even notice ("What? A twister just hurled my house across the metro ATL while I was still inside? Oh, I didn't notice...I was just here snuggling my perfect little angel-child.").

As I began to thank Him for the sweetness amidst the imperfect, before the words even fully formed, it hit me: the flaws I see and feel are just evidence that it's real. That I accept the annoyances, time "wasters," and every million schedule disruptor and choose to be thankful for them is part of the beauty. I live in reality. When they crawl in bed with us, we're squished and sweaty...but it's beautiful and I'm thankful for the moment. When I'm too tired to rock him anymore, but he's still clinging in fear, I climb in the crib with him and (by golly, HOW does he sleep without a pillow?) I thank Him.

I don't like everything about parenting, or all the little things that come with parenting(fresh off of cleaning poop-up-the-back out of the car seat and wiggly child...seriously, he couldn't have just waited until he was home, and NOT sitting down?!), and that's okay. I cherish the beautiful and fun and encouraging and exhilarating and hilarious, and trudge through the ugly and uncomfortable. And I'm overflowing with thankfulness. Not because I'm some saint whose faith is stronger than superman and nothing nothing could ever shake me(i throw back some zoloft & abilify every morning. realness.). I'm really thankful because I choose to be. When it's beautiful, horrific, chaotic, adorable, peaceful, happy or tearful. I'm living my dream...full of flaws...and I love it. And I'm thankful.