Some things we take for granted

And I'm not talking about things like indoor plumbing and diaper rash cream. Those, we've learned to appreciate. Every waking hour. It's the little things, such as items we run out of so seldom that we forget that it takes a modicum of effort on our part to keep things running smoothly.

Coffee filters, for instance. You buy 10,000 and forget about it for six months. Then one morning you stumble into the kitchen to find your spouse surreptitiously stuffing coffee grounds into one of your knee-hi stockings.

Dish Detergent is another thing. I do not take our three-legged dishwasher for granted. It may hobble about, but I know what awaits me if that thing dies, and so I treat it very, very well. But the detergent? Not something I really notice until I run out and don't have an outing on the schedule for two days. MAN, we do a lot of dishes! And no, I'm not washing them by hand. I could, yes, but that might anger the Dishwasher Spirit into leaving it's ugly little shrine under the counter, and then I would cry.

Naps. No, I don't take those for granted. They rate up there with chocolate, foot rubs, and the bliss that is waking before my children. So, no, naps don't go on the taken for granted list. But they are nice, and therefore, worthy of mention whenever possible.

The presence of another adult in the house, though, now that one, I take for granted. Except, you know, when there isn't another adult in the house. And I'm "it". I don't have enough apendages to be "it"! Somehow, I managed to feed and dress the children (cake and whatever was clean, it's all good), tidy the house a bit (restacking the dirty dishes multiple times), triple check the shopping list to make absolutely certain we had dish detergent on the list (it was, twice, even), and scootch out the door in time to run almost half the errands we needed to get done yesterday. Of course, none of that is new. Zorak's usually gone by the time we are up and in need of sustenance, anyway. But at the end of the day, he's usually there to pat me on the head like you would a good coon dog, and mutter promises that tomorrow will go more smoothly.

Which brings me to: Getting Out the Door. HUGE thing I used to take for granted, once upon a time. It takes longer to get out the door these days. Thankfully, the days of grabbing my keys and wallet as I head for the door a mere five minutes after I've decided to go somewhere have faded into the mist of memory - right along with the intensity of childbirth, the deep pang of dry heaves on tequila, and grocery shopping trips with just a quaint little bag for all my supplies. I have to think really hard to remember that there was such a time, and even then, I'm so steeped in today that I cannot call up the sensation, or even a good visual anymore. It's probably a good thing, because the comparision might make me cry (harder than losing the dishwasher).

It seems we spend more time preparing to go somewhere than we do actually going anywhere. There's the inevitable missing shoe (are those things allergic to each other, that they cannot stay in the closet together?), the ever-important whatchamacallit that we need new batteries for (and somehow, we need to find and take with us in order to remember this?), the one-armed loading process (because Miss Emily evidently thinks I need a handicap for this event), the dog (who will not get in the car when he needs to, but keeps trying to get in any other time), the blank stare in response to my complicated demands (climb in, buckle up, let's go!), and the always fun hunt for the carseat carrier after those occasions we'd naively carried a sleeping Miss Emily, carrier and all, into the house, thinking she'd stay asleep. If our pastor's wife hadn't said the same thing last night, I'd probably be worried about this.

But some things I don't take for granted: the comfort of a head count five miles down the road (at least, when it comes back that all are present or at least accounted for); a chance to swing a child up and around as I lift him out of the car, just to hear his squeals and giggles; warm, chubby hands in mine as we walk along; the excitement of new batteries (although why nobody recommended we buy stock in Duracell before we had children, I will never understand); hearing "HOME! YAY!" as we pull back into the drive after a Very Long Day. And those things, among many others, make it all worth it.

So I'm learning not to take so much for granted these days.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy