Accomplishments

toasted half of an everything bagel and served it with butter
toasted oat bread and served it with butter, cinnamon, and brown sugar
brewed coffee and drank it
drove to preschool and hardware store, twice
steered kids clear of the electrician
washed and dried laundry
warmed milk
prepared lunch
read books
emptied dishwasher
loaded dishwasher
changed diapers
pushed swings
kissed husband
served broccoli with dinner
cleaned up vomit
disposed of ants
administered two baths
read three stories, gave back rubs, and played chess for bedtime
didn’t complain or sigh or whine or luxuriate in self-pity
published a blog post
practiced thankfulness

Thankful

The littlest one
is fifteen months old
and he throws fits now.

They are classic ones,
head thrown backward,
back arched,
legs kicking

and every effort
is made
to get flat
on the floor.

He scrunches his face and cries.
He pushes out his lower lip.
He huffs and humphs.
He gets his head on the ground.

Now my opportunities to practice
patience, understanding, and compassion
abound. Around the corner of every moment

I can choose love.

Have I?

If I hurl the half-empty bottle into the sink,
have I nourished?

If I admonish through clenched teeth and growl,
have I taught?

If I bristle and attack as a defense,
have I understood?

If I sigh and huff, and bemoan through the house,
have a done my work well?

If resentment and bitterness ooze from my flesh,
have I been a blessing?

If disdain and self-righteousness reside in my heart,
have I loved?

If I cook and clean and wipe and wash,
prepare and present and set and serve,
freshen and fold and drive and deliver,
but have no love,
have I done anything?