Today I am NOT grateful for Michael’s Art Store. I am NOT grateful for whoever the mean ol’ “Michael” behind the scenes is that created a store meant to drive mommy’s mad, as I am convinced “he” has a vendetta against well-intentioned mothers of small children. It’s true. As a mommy masochist who has frequented more than my fair share of shops with too many in tow (strictly out of obligation, not a need for unnecessary adventure), I can confidently conclude that Michael’s is among my top ten torture techniques, guaranteed to test my mommy magic. I am NOT grateful for the ridiculously miniscule carts, barely big enough for my purse and maybe a single little tush (remember…I have 3 tiny tushes I need to wrangle), as it leaves my items to teeter like a game of Jenga balanced with one hand, as my other hand manages to magically do the following: 1-Engage the tireless toddler just enough to keep him seated (as the seat belts on the cart have all been chewed off…likely by previous parents in an attempt to escape, once they completely lost it as a result of the evil, that is Michael’s), 2- Corral my two remaining strays 3- Oh…and push the cart. This child-sized cart is also the perfect play proportions to convince my mischievous middle, that it is in fact, intended for her use, and not to fill with my own unnecessary crafties. I am NOT grateful for the countless breakables in every kiddy-crack form, from Disney to LEGOS, that are perfectly arranged at the exact height of my already disgruntled three year old, who I just spent ten minutes convincing that holding onto the side of this pretend play cart is somehow equivalent to the joy of pushing it, and who I am now supposed to convince that those perfect little porcelain princesses are so much more fun to look at, than touch. And as my traditional rolling time-out zone is now crowded with…well, just my purse, I am now having to pull out the rustier mommy magic tricks that are a bit expired. Dollar section bribe? Minute to minute bipolar praise and prompt (a.k.a. mommy-look of death)? Deep, DEEP breaths so I do not begin chewing the cart seat belt like so many misguided mamas at Michael’s before me? But then it happened. GRATEFULNESS! In the midst of the mania, a random stranger, who I was convinced was nodding her head at my manic little mob in dismay, approached me and said, “I wish you were 20 years older…” What??? She continued, “…because I would have loved for you to have raised my kids. I never had that much patience with them. I mean…they survived, but I wish I could have handled them like that. You are so good with them.” What??? Could she not see me gnawing on that safety belt, scowling at my toddler, beginning to foam at the mouth? Did she not see me balancing the 4 feet of dollar item bribes with my pinky, while pushing the cart with my thumb, while snagging the wild one by the hood, while holding the little one down in his seat with my chin, while crying out in that characteristic calm/crazy before the storm tone to the now wandering eldest? What??? Wow! That mess was praiseworthy? Now let me explain that while I was melted by her kind words, I am not completely convinced they were well-deserved (read above for evidence in support of this theory). However, my gratefulness came from the fact that this lady took the time to share kind words…empathy…support. So often, when I am out on a mission (defined as any simple task, with 3 kids in tow), I am just trying to avoid the comments, “Wow! 3?” (as if it is a litter) or “You sure have your hands full?” (as if I didn’t already know that), or the not so well-intentioned rolling of the eyes, when they are behind us in the grocery line, as Zoe wants to count out her own money to buy her own little trinket (and yes, I use coupons…sorry). So today I am grateful for those folks that take the time to let me know when I am actually NOT ruining their lives (or my own children’s), as we try to tackle the adventures we call, daily living with tiny people. Thanks lady at Michael’s, you made so much more than my day! On another note, I am also grateful that God programs our children so that just when they are being so whiny and wild that you think you might just bust out in your own tantrum, He knocks them out for you on the way home from Michael’s. Hallelujah for nap time!