An end to a very bad day
I'm not quite sure how to describe today except perhaps by one incident that was a bit too representative of how the day went in general.

I was straightening my bedroom when I realized that the noises coming from the children were a little too giddy for simply coloring in a coloring book. So I somewhat reluctantly went to investigate.

Not only had my 3 year old gotten down a very large and very full bag of crisped rice, but she had dumped the entire contents on the floor. She hadn't even been trying to poor it in a bowl. Although that, too, is not allowed, at least it would have made some sort of sense.

No. My three year old was lying on her back making angels in the dumped cereal.

Crisped rice angels on my kitchen floor.

I've swept five times and I'm still occasionally crunching them under my feet when I walk through the kitchen.

That was just the start of a terrific day. My two youngest also decided to illustrate a library book. I slipped while holding little L. E. Fant and landed flat on my back in the drive. I felt like a helpless beached whale. For some time I wondered how long I'd lay there before someone noticed me. And just how many more things my children could dump on the floor before I was able to get back in.

Then I went to my OB appointment and became increasingly concerned at the way and the length of time my doctor listened to the baby's heartbeat. And the number of times he measured me. And the number of times he asked,
Are you sure you're feeling movement?
As if he didn't really believe there should be any. So he finally informs me that my uterus is a little on the small side and the baby's heart rate is concerning him. "Don't worry," he says as he changes my next appointment to two weeks and schedules an ultrasound. "It is probably nothing, but we need to make sure the baby is growing alright."

Like that is really going to stop me from worrying. I began to long for the crisped rice on the kitchen floor again. Things that, no matter how upset they made you at the time, seem to bring a smile to your face later. Like when I just picked up a sock and a few pieces of cereal fell out.

Now I have been feeling the baby kick about on and off all afternoon. He doesn't seem aware that something may be wrong, and that I do find reassuring. But the day ended on a rather different note altogether.

At my son's karate class Christmas party, the children lined up and had to tell something they were thankful for. As soon as it started, Little Bear's hand sprang up and he literally jumped up and down wanting to share what he was thankful for.
Put your hand down,
Sensei instructed. Children mentioned family, friends, their guinea pig and a Wii. Bear's hand popped back up and he resumed bouncing.

He obviously had something good and couldn't wait to share it. It was literally bubbling out of him. Finally, his turn came and he shouted out at the top of his little lungs,
My God!
And suddenly, the day didn't seem so bad after all. Because amidst everything else, there is always that to be thankful for. And to give hope. And somehow, amidst all my imperfections and fretting rather loudly over cereal on the floor, my five year old son seems to have picked that up from somewhere.