Grateful for my Laundry

I have a confession.  Sometimes being a stay at home mom is really really really really boring.

Sometimes.

Other time it's wildly exciting.  oh, wait actually not.  It's a lot of really good things, but never wildly exciting.  And off the top of my head, the only circumstance I can think of during which it would be wildly exciting involves me rushing a bleeding someone to the emergency room, and that's the bad kind of exciting, not the good kind so. . .

ya.

I'm really bored.

And I'm really not used to being bored.  And there are a lot of worse things to have to get used to in this world I'm sure, but it does take some getting used to.  Sometimes I get down on myself for being bad at getting used to it, but having a husband on Christmas break has made me realize that lack of deadlines or someone holding you accountable for using your time productively gives man (and woman) a natural tendency to do absolutely nothing at all.  And when my husband rolls out of bed at 10 and then sits down to be entertained by buzzfeed for 2 hours and says "I don't know how you do your job, if it were my job none of it would get done" I believe him.  Because, bless his heart, it is one million percent true.  And then I don't feel so bad for not using all of my time 100% productively, you know? (p.s.  don't judge my husband.  He needs and deserves a little R & R.)

Anyways, today I kind of mentally berated myself for hating that I'm bored, and told myself I should be grateful for it.  You know, like that cheesy poem thing that I don't like very much about being grateful for your laundry because it means you have clothes to wear.  I am grateful that I have the choice and opportunity to stay home and take care of Camryn and have the luxury of extra time to fill how I please.

And so now I'm going to decide to be grateful (and not sarcastic at all)

• That my husband is gone every single blasted night,  because it means he has a job.

• For the dentist who told me this morning I need a crown on one of my teeth that will cost me $500,  because it means I have access to dental care, and dental insurance.  (p.s. unsolicited advice to any and all pregnant women:  get your twice yearly cleanings!!!)

• For the letter that arrived last week from the anesthesiologist informing me that I owe them hundreds of dollars because my insurance overpaid and then discovered their error---because it means I got to have an epidural.  And I have health insurance.  (p.s. I have huge respect for insurance companies and their always accurate calculations.  I think they're all geniuses and I'm astounded that an error has occurred here.   Remember this?  oh, the irony)

• That I get to scrub poop out of the tub every.  blasted.  day.  because. . . it means my daughter has a functioning and remarkably efficient digestive system.

And. . . I think that's all the gratitude I can muster for one night.  

Merry Christmas!!