Sweat & Sparkle

Look Again

Something happened yesterday morning that really got me thinking. It was my first morning back to work after Thanksgiving break, and I was getting dressed, brushing my hair, leaning into the bathroom mirror to dab on make-up. I was tired, not ready to be finished with our break yet, and my mind was churning out non-stop, harsh commentary on my appearance.

“Do my pants feel tighter? I must have eaten too much for Thanksgiving. Pig. God, I look so tired. I look like I was dug up and reanimated this morning. Just look at the dark circles under my eyes! Worse than a raccoon! Gah, I look like crap.”

I am sure I am not the only one whose internal dialogue can get brutal, right? I sighed, wishing I could crawl back into bed instead of being seen in public, and just then my husband walked into the room.

He glanced at me, smiled, and said, “Oh, you look so good today.”

I was stunned. I actually blurted out, “I do?”

Now he looked confused, like he didn’t know what he said that was wrong. I told him I just felt like I looked awful, and he simply said, “Well, look again.”

So I did–through his eyes, as best that I could. Sure, I looked like I could use some rest, but that’s because we stayed up late every night of our break, spending as much time together as we could. And yeah, my nails are filed much shorter than I like, but that’s because the two of us not only worked in the yard as usual this past weekend, but we also demolished our deck, hauled off the old wood, and selected new boards, carrying and loading them all by ourselves.

No, I don’t look like I just stepped out of a salon or a spa. I have been too busy busting my ass, working on our home, and getting shit done. I know that one of the many things he loves about me is my willingness to leap in, get dirty, and work hard at his side, for him to have a true partner, something he hasn’t had in the past.

I’m no princess or prima donna, and it shows sometimes, like right now, with the scratches on my legs from the rose thorns in our garden, or the scrapes and spots on my hands and arms from unloading rough wood boards. My hair is in dire need of a color and cut, but I just haven’t had time, because we’ve had so much to do. Visiting the kids and helping my husband with these projects were far more important to me, and always will be.

I ended up thinking about that exchange with my husband later that day. Jeez, I really need to learn to cut myself a break! Why would I possibly pressure myself to look immaculate and energized after a busy and manual-labor-filled weekend? I am glad my husband walked in at just the right moment to place everything into perspective and deliver a crucial reality check. I am glad he sees me through the lens of love, and I am glad he is teaching me to see myself the same way, too.

Grateful

Okay, I am a few days late posting this. But I love the quote and just had to share it.

I wasn’t online the day after Thanksgiving to post this. Or the day after that. Or over the weekend. I had five days off for Thanksgiving, and it still wasn’t enough! We were so busy that the days streaked right by, like I knew they would.

We had a home filled to bursting on Thanksgiving, including two grandchildren, and I was trying to take it all in while still capturing as much as I could with pictures. It was loud. It was chaotic. And I loved it.

I was running from room to room, trying to keep up with an energetic two-year-old, while offering my help in spurts in the kitchen, where my husband was putting the finishing touches on an awesome dinner, and also hopping in and out of conversations as I passed by the kids and their significant others. I didn’t want to miss anything, with anyone.

My husband told me our Thanksgiving table setting looked like something from a magazine, which made me proud. He had helped me pick out flowers for the centerpiece, and I love how it all looked together. A pretty home makes me so happy.

During dinner, I looked around the table, watching everyone talk and eat and laugh, and I thought, this must be how my mom felt all those years, when all four of us kids were home, back at her table, joking around and carrying on–excited to have everyone there, but also knowing that soon everyone will scatter again, and grasping onto each moment and holding onto them while they were there.

I caught my husband’s eye across the table, above the colorful flowers, and felt so content and proud and loved. He was holding our youngest grandson, who is enraptured with my husband’s beard and had his fingers twined around it, like he always does. I grabbed my phone from the living room and caught a quick picture of the two of them, then a picture of the whole gang, before tossing my phone back onto the couch and sitting back down to just enjoy everyone.

We left the mess in the kitchen to relax in the living room with everyone after dinner. As people left, the crowd dwindled, and it was just our oldest son, his wife, and the youngest grandbaby, so we got on the floor and played with him. I didn’t even know my stepson’s wife was taking pictures of us, but when I saw them later, I loved them and was so grateful she took them. My hair was a mess from running around and direly needed a good brushing, but I didn’t care. I was sitting beside my husband, focused on our grandson, cooing and talking, watching him try his hardest to take a step, and I love that picture more than any perfectly posed or filtered snapshot simply because of who I was with, and the moment it captured.

After we waved good-bye to everyone in the driveway, we walked back into the house and realized that the Thanksgiving fairies had not cleaned up any of the dinner mess in the kitchen. We got to work, chatting about the day as we washed and dried dishes, wiped down counters, and swept floors.

As we snuggled up in bed that night, we were still talking about the day, the grandbabies, how good it was to see everyone. I held onto him tight, grateful for the day we met, grateful for the day we had just spent, grateful for our love, our family, our home.

Thankful

Right up there with Halloween, on my list of favorite holidays, is Thanksgiving. We don’t go crazy decorating for Thanksgiving like we do for Halloween, sure enough, though admittedly our living room has more than its fair share of leaves, acorns, garland, and pumpkins this time of year. We don’t buy heaps of candy or dress up in elaborate costumes. But I have been anticipating today with just as much excitement.

Thanksgiving is a quieter, more subtle holiday to me. Sentimental. It’s more about home, family, loved ones, remembering who brightens our days and brings a smile to our face. It’s taking the time to treasure who lights up our heart and to be thankful for each one of them. This day only comes once a year, and I intend to make every single second count.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Where Did the Weekend Go?

I knew before the weekend even started that it was going to fly by. My husband and I had plans both days, on top of the usual weekend chores, tasks, and to-do lists.

We tried something a little different for date night on Saturday and went on a behind-the-scenes animal feeding tour at a museum nearby with native animal exhibits. We toured the animal food prep kitchen, then got the chance to help feed river otters, cougars, and a black bear. It was awesome! The bear took a biscuit from my hand, and my husband got to feed her a grape, which she took gently, but not without sneaking a lick of his finger to see how he might taste!

On Sunday, I finished a large jewelry order for my online shop, washed and vacuumed my car since I can’t stand a dirty car, vacuumed the house because I also can’t stand a dirty house, then did a quick face mask and hopped into the shower so we could head out to meet one of the kids for dinner. We had a lot of fun and ended up just sitting and talking for a long time, the best kind of conversation: about anything and everything that popped into our heads, serious and funny and everything in between.

When we got home, we stayed up much too late, trying to hold onto the weekend as long as we could. I sat down with my planner to jot down reminders, and this upcoming week is going to be very busy too! Seems like there is something going on each day, besides the obvious: Thanksgiving, one of my favorite holidays. I can’t wait!

Peace

Every morning, I set the alarm at least 20 minutes earlier than I actually have to get up. I do it on purpose. That early morning time, in the shadows of the bedroom, snuggled under the covers, is something I treasure and look forward to.

I hit snooze, tuck back in, and my husband wraps me up tight in his arms. It’s peaceful, safe, happy. Often, I find myself dozing back off, because I am so comfy and content.

This morning, I hit snooze again…then again. I was chilly, so I tugged the quilt up to my chin, cozied back up to my husband’s chest, and thoroughly enjoyed the tranquil, soothing moment before the alarm went off one last time, and it was time to reluctantly climb out of bed.

Most days, I simply adjust, shift gears and dive into work once I get to the office. Today…nope. Stubbornly, petulantly, like a toddler stomping her foot during a tantrum, all I have wanted to do is go back home, to the peace and love and happiness that my husband and I share there.

He has told me more than once that he loves our house, but what makes it a home is me. I love that. It’s the greatest compliment I think I have ever received.

Today, that is all I want, and nothing else can take its place: I want to be with him. I want to be at home. And I can’t get back there soon enough.