a mother's poem of thanksgiving

Thank you God, for strong coffee
Thank you for healthy children, so healthy they rise at the break of dawn to welcome the new day
Bouncing and screaming in glee, running in circles - so healthy and strong! - cackling, broom in hand as they try and get a sticky hand toy off of the ceiling, before I've barely cracked open my eyes.
And, thank you God, for strong coffee

Thank you God, for strong coffee
Thank you for a house, with carpet the color of sand, to hide the spills and stains of last week's squeezie yogurt, newly discovered under the ottoman
Thank you for strong walls and wood stoves and windows, upon which to have smudged noses and hand prints, and doors, to remind little man not to slam,
And, thank you God, for strong coffee

Thank you God, for strong coffee
For mothers to call about rashes and coughs, who reassure that we are indeed, not ruining our children's lives forever by not letting them sleep in our bed until they are 47
For sisters, and a brother, who text the whole live long day about everything under the sun, including cocktails and Pinterest plans
And, thank you God, for strong coffee

Thank you God, for strong coffee
For this three year old, lovely sweet head of curls, who just now insists on climbing onto my lap, wiggling and writhing and talking and, indeed, wiping her nose on my sweater, thank you for that.
And, thank you God, for strong coffee

Thank you God, for strong coffee
For the five year old at the table, insisting on writing love notes to me, in Sharpie, so they never go away, who cuts out snowflakes and shrieks in delight, leaving a powdery snow of paper remains underneath her, who despite multiple warnings has now dotted up my table with said Sharpie.
And, thank you God, for strong coffee

Thank you God, for strong coffee
For the eight year old boy, wrestling my new wool fleece like a cat, pouncing - GOD, that was HIGH - from ottoman to the couch, approximately four feet into the air, before plummeting on his prey, who loves to read and Lego it up, leaving strewn remains all over the house
And, thank you God, for strong coffee

Thank you God for strong coffee
Thank you for the near misses all day, for almost kneeling on a Lego, seeing it staring at me, as I look under the couch for the missing sippy cup, for watching out of the window as three year old nearly lands head first in snow, but rights herself, fat little dumpling in her snow gear, and keeps walking on. Keep walking on.
For dada, making it home late at night, when it was icy and windy and foggy out
For not having my leather slippers on, just now, when I dumped yogurt all over my feet. That was good. Thanks for that God.
And, thank you God, for strong coffee

Thank you God, for strong coffee
Thank you for sunshine, when it decides to come out, for a nice day of 41 degrees when the snow nearly melted and I was able to run errands without wearing a parka. Thank you for the green beans I dug out of the freezer, just now, grown from the dried up plants now covered in frost in my garden. Thank you for hard work and land and sun and rain and wind and the whole world of it out there. Even snow. It IS pretty.
And thank you God, for strong coffee

Thank you God, for strong coffee
For siblings who love each other, even as they tug at the iPad, wanting their turn (also, thank you God and Steve Jobs for the iPad), for siblings who play, creatively, beautifully, who fight, ferociously, wildly (are they cats??) who call each other pet names and kiss each other's heads when I am not looking.
And thank you God, for strong coffee

Thank you God, for strong coffee
For a partner who works hard, at parenting, jobs, and life, who does the dishes and folds laundry and gently disciplines and stacks wood right alongside me, laughing about child antics and incomprehensible (to me) YouTube videos, who gets angry at injustice, and who informs me four nights in advance of his intentions to stay out late playing volleyball tonight.
And thank you God, for strong coffee

Thank you God, for strong coffee
For a brain, that is unfoggy and coherent most of the time, that is creative and thoughtful, even if melancholy, for the thoughts and ideas and the passion. And, for weirdly pale green eyes to see three year old, chasing the cat - again - for hands to pour the crabby eight year old his Cheerios and ears to hear the five year old screeching out my name and a voice to calmly respond.
And thank you God, for strong coffee

Thank you God, for strong coffee
For friends near and far, around the world even, for the memories and the connections and the random texts and five minute phone calls, in between yapping children, and the thoughtful messages of hang in there, you too mama, we are sisters in this together.
And thank you God, for strong coffee

Thank you.
For all of it.
It's good.
And especially, for strong coffee.