I don't usually associate St. Patrick's Day with gratitude, but rather, I think of the pinching, leprechauns, and everything in green. This morning I woke up at 2:30 am so I could stage the house to look like those meddling leprechauns came and messed with us again. I've done it since my oldest was born, 13 years ago. I really want to stop doing it, but I have enough mother guilt to keep the tradition alive so that my youngest has some of the same fun holiday memories as the older kids. (And might I add, it was worth it, because this morning he came down to my room SO EXCITED that there was a messy table full of green and that those jerk leprechauns even got to the milk.)
After I finished messing up my own house (sanity check needed, I am aware), I went to bed, unable to sleep. I scanned through some of the Instagram accounts and was fairly surprised that at 3 am there were a lot of people just following @kidsaretheworst. I started to look at those people who were adding the account to their follow list and it was mostly people from the Ukraine. UKRAINE! I glanced at their accounts and saw that they were mothers, cookie shop owners, artisnal marshmallow makers, and a couple of pole dancers. It kinda hit me right in the heart that these beautiful people are connected to me, here on the other side of the world. How else would I have ever seen these people who also have kids, dreams, and a wicked sense of humor? The world is so massive, but at that moment, in the wee wee hours of the morning, I felt this camaraderie with parents I will never meet and a community that is so diverse.
As for those pesky leprechauns, I hope they grow tired of us in the next few years. My gratitude for them is waning.