It’s now 7:44 on a beautiful Sunday morning. Everyone in the house is asleep except for myself and the dog.  I’m sitting on the couch feeding my one month old for what seems like the 15th time this morning.  When I first got up this morning I was feeling a little sorry for myself.  I’m tired, I’m pretty sure I look as tired as I feel. I knew there was no going back to bed because I had woken up the dog who now wanted to eat and go outside.  I went into my kitchen and made a cup of coffee and tried to figure out how to make today better.  Feeling sorry for myself was really not the way I wanted to start my day.  I think I was still a little defeated from the day before.  I had a great day overall, but my evening ended with a toddler tantrum and me getting upset over something that in hindsight really wasn’t a big deal.  I think I’ve fallen back into the trap of “sweating the small stuff”, and I need to get back into the habit of being grateful for everything. I have dishes in my sink and laundry I didn’t get to yesterday because our day out ran long because we were enjoying ourselves.  The toys on my floor mean two things to me.  My children are enjoying themselves and that they are fortunate enough to have to have these toys to mess up my living room with.  I generally can’t finish much without stopping a few times.  In fact it’s now 8:40 and I still haven’t finished my post. Not because I couldn’t collect my thoughts but because my two year old woke up and wanted breakfast.  I can’t finish things because wonderful little people that I brought into the world need my attention, and I’ve decided to be ok with that.  My life doesn’t always go in the direction that I think it should,  but I believe it goes in the direction it was meant to.  I am grateful for my life,  and all the beautiful mess that’s in it. I just need to do a better job reminding myself of that.