This is a good evening. We're all on the bed. My 8 year old son, Josh and I are reading our individual Reader's Digest (his 11 year-old brother, Nate is helping him with the big words). I'm eating a salad which Nate, my pernickety eater, tries some of - "I'm open to new things, Mom!" Meanwhile he's finishing a half glass of milk - another new thing for him. Josh offers to take my salad container to the kitchen because "I want to be a GENTLEMAN!" (His brother teases him that he will never be a "gentle man"). As he leaves, I lay back on the bed that was made up 30 minutes earlier by Josh & I ("ⁿRemember you showed me how to do it, Mom!"). Right now, at this moment, I'm feeling VERY blessed.
Is this my mid-lifer crisis? Or how I try to make sense of it all when it doesn't make sense