Two pink roses

It's been a rough year for us in many ways. Nothing huge, just the usual woes that plague your average family boasting two tots, two teenagers, one elderly and especially hairy dog and an ex-wife who seems to think that Hubs won a lottery sometime in the past year.

But then, just when I'm in the midst of a good fret over finances, or freaking out over my husband's too-apparent (albeit still very ambivalent) interest in participating in a job-related stint in Iraq, the Tiny Terrors go and ruin my Moment of Self-Pity by pointing out the things I used to notice and appreciate.

Before I grew up and decided such things no longer mattered. Because, you know, I'd rather engage in imaginary rants at Hubs' ex.

As I unloaded Tootie from the car a few days ago, her face lit up and off she went, trotting over to a large plant-like bush thingy in front of our house. Do I garden? Um. No. Would I recognize a rosebush if it pulled itself out of the ground and pricked me squarely in the ass. Negative. Still, how did I not notice the bright-pink rosebud that immediately captured my daughter's attention?

"Look, Mama! A flower!" the Toot gushed, leaning over to pluck it.

I stopped her.

"If you wait, honey, that tiny bud will open up into a flower. So let's not pick it just yet, OK?"

And this morning, as I left for work, brooding over the usual blah-blah-blah, a splash of pink caught my eye.

Two perfectly shaped roses.


Photo courtesy of Hubs

And it occurred to me that even as I advise my daughter to be patient, to wait for something to grow into its full and beautiful potential, I don't apply these words of maternal wisdom to my own approach to life.

So, for today at least, I've put aside the bills and the worries, and am simply anticipating this evening, when I'll walk my daughter over to the rose bush and show her two pink blooms —

— which I never would have noticed if she hadn't pointed out a single tiny, hopeful bud.

Update: On pulling into the driveway -- "Mama! Look, look! The flower growed!"