And as I sit there in middle class suburbia slowly marinating, I think about how bloody lucky I really am. I am incredibly grateful to have a husband who can bring home the prime cut bacon. I am grateful that he puts in the hard yards and long hours to make me able to stay at home and be there for our kids. Everyday. All day. Seven days a week. Changing nappies. Separating three year old girls from fights. Homework. Talking back. Cooking. Bless him. Actually, most of these days I'm just grateful they eventually fucking end.
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I am grateful that my husband comes home to me every night. He may not want to some days, but he still does and I'm thankful for that. He has gone through a lot during our marriage and with me being looney tunes. He had the chance to run, but he didn't. He might not be grateful for that some days, but I am.
I am grateful that I have friends. Friends who look out for me, friends who love me, friends who I don't see often but are there when the shit hits the fan, and friends who are as mental as I am. Damn, them bitches be crazy. You know who you are.
Then there are the little things that I am grateful for. Pizza is one. That and Coke. Oh, and passionfruit, Lindt chocolate, my kids use their manners when they are out, daiquiris, Nick Jr, fresh air, cheap pharmaceuticals, my degrees, health, mental health workers, my sister who helps me, mobile phones, rain, clean water, books on my shelf and shoes on my feet. I could go on but the wind-up music has begun.
And, with the risk of sounding incredibly corny - you, for reading my blog. Awwww.
I know I've missed other things I am grateful for. What are you grateful for?
Come see me on Cut My Milk's Facie page. You'll be grateful that you did.