This post may come across as rather obnoxious, but I don’t intend it to do so. It’s not a #firstworldproblems bit and it’s not a “just think of the starving children” bit. It’s a post about letting gratitude frame my experiences and frustrations. It’s not about being grateful since other people have it so much worse. It’s about counting my blessings before letting the frustrations tear me down. I’m not sure how many times a day I ask my oldest to speak a little quieter, or how many times I beg the youngest to get down off the (fill in the blank), or how many times I sit on pee…

I think my kid broke my face. Maybe. On Wednesday, we were goofing off, and my kindergartner flung his hard-as-a-bowling-ball head into my nose. I heard a pop or a crack and immediately started bawling – big, ugly cry with tears pouring down. Until they saw the tears, the boys thought I was laughing hysterically and were laughing themselves. Then they saw my tears and were very concerned. I wept, “You aren’t careful with me!” I sent them to their rooms so I could wallow in my misery. I have been icing my face off and on for two days and researching nasal drainage versus brain drainage (I’m pretty sure…