I’m thankful. For many things, but mainly, the dressing room attendant at TJ Maxx that informed me I wasn’t wearing a shirt when I left the changing room. I did have my jacket on. And hat. And even brought back that lil number thing.
Just no shirt. And an unimpressive bra. Good catch, Cheryl.
So very, very thankful.
I’m thankful for you, for being curious enough to read these words. And hopefully, kind enough to not judge them. At least, not in front of my children. Or on the Book of Face.
I’m thankful for my husband, for the endless support, the well-timed dad jokes, and the songs reserved for me. For the days he forces me out the door, to the nearest coffee shop, to write for hours, uninterrupted. For giving me the courage to chase wild dreams (and toddlers). For loving me. For dancing with me. For holding my hand in a million different countries. For perfecting my dirty martini. For all this and more, I’ve forgiven him for being prettier than me.
I’m thankful for my children, the reason I breathe. And don’t breathe. Because you gorgeous fuckers are scary as shit. But also, you are brilliant creatures, constantly marveling at the world around you, inspiring me to take notice, too. And I’m thankful that sometimes doctors are wrong and 136 year old French Quarter palm readers are right. For daring to believe that you both could exist. And be mine.
There are not enough words to express how grateful I am for my mother. At least, none that could do a goddess justice. Shut up. I’m already crying.
I’m thankful for my dad, my step-dad, and my step-mom, for knowing I can always count on them. And it’s okay that they like my kids more than me. And that my kids get more Christmas presents than me. And a better place in the will. #choppedliver
I’m thankful for my siblings, that magical bunch. Let’s start with my sisters. Stunning, seriously, jaw dropping beauties. The kind that everyone notices, everyone envies, and yet, their overwhelming kindness and strength is what you’ll remember the most. I admire them more than anyone else, even Mrs. Parton (blasphemy!). These chicks could save the world. Of that, I am certain. And now to my brothers, those six dudes (step and half, I count dem all). All different, even (especially) the twins. All powerful and dreamy and successful and generous. And funny. And gifted. And I’m fairly certain all I do is embarrass them.
I’m thankful for my in-laws, for loving me as you both do. For always treating me as a daughter, albeit, a goofier one than you bargained for. For all the coffee morning chats, the long distance travels, and the unconditional love you give me and my children. Not to mention, but I am totally going to mention, that year you bought me the complete hardback Harry Potter series and seasons 1-7 of Buffy. THANKKKKFFFUUULLLLLLL.
I’m thankful for flowers, every kind. My son has inherited my need for them. Around. Always. Smelling up da place.
I’m thankful for books, duh.
I’m thankful for HGTV, which, I never thought I would say.
I’m thankful for photographs, for preserving some of my favorite moments. For allowing me to slow down and glance at her right dimple a moment longer. To look back and see that Oia sunset, one more time. To relive the moments I was present for, but unable to properly view, such as saying my vows and seeing my children meet for the first time. Also, all the pictures of Evie’s toes. And for every fucking selfie in front of a mountain.
I’m thankful for baths, the bubble kind. And the “DO NOT DISTURB OR YOU WILL BE CUT” sign that goes with them.
I’m thankful for lavender, for calming me the F down.
I’m thankful for holidays, although, Thanksgiving isn’t my favorite. Well, now I just feel like a dick.
I’m thankful for R.L Stine, Roald Dahl, Lois Lowry, Phillis Reynolds Naylor, and J.K. Rowling. I owe my insatiable love of reading to you guys. And the people behind the classics, Bunnicula and Snot Stew; I would totally buy them the first round.
(On that note, I am also thankful for Neil Gaiman, Stephen King, Charlaine Harris, and Chuck Palahniuk, for reinforcing my love of reading and writing about weird shit. Also, Beth & Aimee G, you guys fit in here, too. Love you more than a good, gory ghost story.)
I’m thankful for my smile, it keeps you guessing.
I’m thankful for New Orleans, my favorite city. I’m more alive because of you, even when you are trying to kill me.
I’m thankful for my sister-in-laws, you wouldn’t believe how genuinely wonderful they all are. Perfect, selfless, gorgeous beings. I am so lucky. So very very lucky. And those brother-in-laws, y’all. They all share the perfect wit and humor, love and gentleness. I find that I always seek out passionate people. And these humans are some of the most passionate beings I know — always pursuing their craft/love and pushing themselves further. Whether that’s up a mountain, across a field, in school, or holding a child.
I’m thankful for dollar store $1.07 notebooks. Purple, green, and black. And all the stories they keep safe for me.
I’m thankful that my last name required me to sit next to her. All throughout high school. The best friend I have ever had. The one I’ll grow old with. And I’m thankful for the one with THE laugh, the one I was forced to approach about selling jeans (raise your hand if you were ever a Denim Specialist, yo). The one I owe the majority of my happiest memories too. My twin soul. The greatest human on earth. My people.
I’m thankful for music, for soothing the hurts and introducing Dawson to Hall & Oates tributes.
I’m thankful for words, and that some of mine, are read by others.
I’m thankful for my traveler’s heart, it’s always open and ready. Book a ticket, count me in.
I’m thankful for my BEST gals, most of which, I met during some awkward stage of high school and college. And the one I carried with me from middle school — s’up, James!? They know exactly who they are and have never let my weirdness scare them off. Distance rarely seems to be in obstacle; they are there WHENEVER I need. And God, I hope I have done the same for them. The know my best secrets, my worse thoughts, and my favorite joys. And here is where I give a special shout out to the one that could go into labor any day now — love you, mama. Love you all.
I’m thankful for the 4 special humans that save me, daily, in the most subtle ways. They are the ones that are getting me through this particular season of life. They are the ones I call first. Send a 5:00 AM text (without apology). Show my barest, messiest self to. The ones I find excuses to buy frivolous gifts for. Which of course, is for my benefit, never theirs. And because they are who they are, I know they are actually reading this. Right to the end. So, I’ll give them the most ink… I’ll start with the girl, I’ve known all my life, but only recently, fell head over heels for. Abs of steel and a heart of gold; beauty, talent, and good wine make up the rest of her. We connect on 298748374823 levels. And she’s promised to teach me how to cook. Then there’s the boy, who listens to all my nonsense and understands my need to vent/dream/write it all out. He comes with the kindest heart, superb advice, a quick wit, and the patience/imagination that only a new dad could possess. He’s the only one that knows the names of at least three characters in my book. All of which, he has likely forgotten. But at least he asks about them; which means more than he’ll ever know. Then there’s the broad that I was destined to meet; I found her in Amsterdam at my most broken state. She fixed me with humor, booze, and unconditional love. She held my babies and over-poured my drinks (a million thanks). And this bombshell still appreciates and remembers when I had fantastic tits. I may love her more than my husband. And then there is the new friend; the beauty I met in Houston. The friend I call on for all the advice: mommying, living, cooking, what the fuck do I do with my hair-ing. In the short time that I have known her, I have found the cutest little pedestal and placed her upon it. Trust me, she deserves it. She is sensational and brave and passionate and good. I shall keep her.
I’m thankful for play-doh. Without which, this post would’t have been possible. #children