This morning I made waffles (from scratch; with a half stick of melted butter and a teaspoon of vanilla paste) in The George.  I’ve never made waffles before, because I’m sort of a pancake girl, but let me tell you that when I opened the grill and saw the first batch of two giant-sized waffles all golden brown and perfect, I was all Awwwwwwww, yeah!  Who is rockin the waffles?  And the kids were all Whatever, Mom.  Do we have any powdered sugar? 

The boys’ friend C slept over, and I barely got all five kids out the door in time for church.  We listened to the Juno soundtrack for our five minute ride, and all the kids sang along: If I was a flower growing wild and free, all I’d want is you to be my sweet honey bee. My awesome minister talked about Buddhism today, and Lex sat next to me and I think he was interested.  I have mixed feelings about Buddhism myself; maybe I’m just not educated about it enough, but I think I prefer to have passion and laughter and tears.  I’m kind of messy and loud sometimes.

I spent the afternoon puttering around, cleaning up the house and rearranging things and cooking.  The kids played outside for most of the day.  When the sun set, a bunch of them ran around playing Capture the Flag while I talked with a couple of other single moms from my street on my front yard. 

I’m happy.  I’m exhausted, my house is trashed beyond belief, I’m sort of behind on a bunch of different things, and I am having a hard time keeping us in milk and bread (we go through it so so fast), but things are good.  Great, even.  Part of me is inclined to feel bad about feeling so very good, but that is the same part that has gotten me into such trouble in the past.  It’s okay for me to be embracing this change.  I don’t have to feel bad for being so much lighter and hopeful.