Those Things We Are Thankful For Most

I only added the word most in order not to end the title with a preposition.

Anyway, On Facebook, where many of you are members thereof, some kind soul started a countdown to Thanksgiving Day. By starting on November first, find something to be thankful for each day. One was to post what that was each day on their wall.

I decided that was an excellent exercise in really thinking about the good in my life, so I did it this year.

Daughter has done it before this year, as have many others.

So, much to my surprise, the thing I was most thankful for come the Big Day, was when Great-Nephew (age 2) peed on Husband (age 64).

Why, you may ask, was I most thankful for that?

It made us all laugh. Well, maybe not Great-Nephew, he was just rushed off to the bathroom for dry clothes.

Great-Nephew was snuggling on the couch with Husband, busily spelling words (like intelligence) and then using it in a sentence. This exercise is an app. on his mama's telephone. This is done by a two year old with a paci in his mouth, who as I said earlier, isn't quite one hundred percent on his potty training.

But he was so comfy cuddling and sharing with Husband, he waited too long to start yelling, "Tee tee! Tee tee! Uh-oh! Oh no!"

He can perform word exercises on the phone app. better than he can spew it back out. After all, he's only two. I get about every third word he says.

But laughter, innocence, family gathering - isn't that what thankfulness is all about?

Brother of Many Surgeries could have easily not been with us. Last week it was determined he wouldn't be well enough, but then, lo and behold, he was. Breathing heavy, showing his scar because he had twenty-five of his zillion staples removed Tuesday (and a drain tube).

Who wouldn't be proud?

And Mother. She is eighty-four years old with a lot of physical problems. (Duh). Not sick, just aches and pains that are hard on her.

Thankful? You bet.

For babies that make us laugh (even though Husband left early very suddenly), for brothers that make it through yet another surgery, for mothers who may be elderly but are still hanging around for another season.

And you.

I'm thankful for you.

How Love Handles Love Handles and Other Add - Ons of Aging

It seems America gets more and more youth oriented every year. People are going to any and all measures to look younger, if at all possible.

Some of them have tried so hard they look like youthful aliens.

The only middle age thing men had cornered the market on was love handles. And now that women buy low slung pants, they too have the gobby inner tube look.

Not me, sister. I tuck all my fat into my pants and zip em up all the way to the waist. That's one fashion statement I ain't a slave to.

For we women, it seems there are more things that sag and bag and wrinkle than on men.

I blame most of this on having and raising children.

My belly was already rather, um, round when I had back surgery. Cutting the major muscles slap in two did not help this situation in the least.

No wonder women's stomachs aren't the same after having a baby. After all, that part of the body is stretched out until it looks as though one has swallowed a beach ball.

Daughter weighed in a little over nine pounds. When I am receiving sympathetic nods as I lament about this to someone while in her presence, she always says, "But I'm adopted."

I hate how smart-mouthed the younger generation has become.

Anywho, we have bosoms that droop, where men do not (well, most men don't). We don't have beards to hide the sagging, crepey skin of the neck. (well, most women don't).

Even skinny women, while still in their twenties, begin the wave of the underarm. Men don't have sagging underarms until they are ninety. If then.

You try raising a kid from infancy to age seventy-five or so, worry about why they are crying, what the fever is about, will they learn to talk/walk/read/do math/leave home/sign up for social security, and see if you don't get a wrinkle or two.

And while we are on the subject, old age spots make lovely additions to any rings. I don't have these yet, but Husband does. I know that's the next thing coming my way.

Youth really is fleeting. Faster than a speeding bullet.

But then we never believe it when we are in the throes of youth. It may  have happened to every other generation. But not this one!  And then one day ya look in the mirror and youth has actually fled.

For a long time, though, we can look around, and someone, somewhere, is older and worse looking than we are. And by the time that is no longer true, one of two things is true.

1. Senility has set in and it no longer matters.

2. We are so tickled to still be up and about we don't give a gnat's rear end what we look like anymore.

Right?

Right??

Sigh.

I was afraid of that.