Grateful. . . for golden sunshine casting lamp shadows on the wall above tiny baby boy squeaking and hiccuping. He’s kicked his left leg out of his pajamas where the snap broke yesterday, a day that moved smiles through little muddy garden helpers and impromptu kitchen dance parties. This bubble-blowing, pulled-both-ways, tired-and-crazy maternity leave with my second baby seems to laugh at first, so different, yet so alive. Like strawberry rhubarb pie, fresh and tart/sweet as I’m exhausted by joy and joyfully exhausted. Some days have been like pie edges burnt crispy, but if I can just get to the middle and savor that goodness, savor this time, live thankfulness, not fall to the temptation throws thoughts thoughts saying “I’m tired,” “Where’s my adult conversation?”, and “Just what am I accomplishing?” Gratitude shuts these up and re-sets my course, aligning me to this today, this yesterday, this joy. Estrogen buys my roller-coaster ticket, and while the lows can wear thin, the highs sit beautiful, so simply scenic that I can’t help but soak in the golden morning lampshade shadow light, now just a little farther down the wall . . . grateful.