I’m grateful for shamrocks, good luck, that I get to wear green and I get to drink green beer. I’m grateful that 19 years ago I made green macaroni and cheese mixed with ground hamburger for my girlfriend. It was one of the most disgusting looking contraptions one has ever seen. And yet, it tasted just like mac and cheese. What made this dinner special was that it still wasn’t enough to scare this young lady from becoming my fiancee, my wife, and the mother of my children.
I’m grateful for surviving another busy week. Even though, at times, it feels as if I can’t seem to catch up with all the loose ends since training started, I’m grateful for those small successes that I’ve had this past week.
- Another post, We Can Rise, was completed.
- Motivational Monday was posted.
- Taxes were handed over to our accountant; we didn’t have to file an extension for 2 years in a row now.
- My wife and I tag teamed the girls for two dentist appointments scheduled at the same time; we work well as co-parents.
I’m grateful for a nice lunch with my wife as we caught up over the past couple of weeks. I’m grateful that since our family counseling appointment was canceled, my wife suggested that the four of us go to the beach. Even though my youngest didn’t join us, I’m grateful for Fish and Chips and watching the sun reflect on the crashing waves as our older daughter chased birds and our dog ran by her side, oblivious to the birds, just happy for the attention and the chance to run with her. I’m grateful for the smiling, beautiful woman snapping photos of her daughter relishing in the joy of the moment.
I’m grateful for smooth, clear skies. Such a reprieve from the weather I’ve been flying in lately.
I’m grateful my parents were as involved as they were with my track and cross-country team. Every weekend my step-father would take a 15 passenger van from his work so he could carry as many students as possible. Many times, I would drive in another car, while some of the other athletes adopted my parents for the day. I’m grateful my parents would play the current music on the radio, my mother singing along with everyone in the back. I remember when Madonna’s song, True Blue, came on the radio, and three rows of kids were swaying to the music. My step-father couldn’t keep the van between the lines. As a parent, I know understand the sacrifice they made as late at night, they’d drive everyone home and my step-father wouldn’t leave the house until he had confirmation that the kid was inside. My senior year my coach gave them a “parents of the year” plaque. They definitely deserved that honor.