It’s November! This Fall has been a big fat slice of magic, and we’ve been here for it. Our boys are wired for Halloween and all things spooky and mystical, so we doubled down on Halloween decorations and haunted walks. The Denver weather has been pure Autumn perfection, and I have NEVER seen colors like this in my 17 years here.

How weird is it that spiders, ghost and goblins, and lots of gore in my front yard have me so blissed out? Of course, it could be that the boys are at an age now where they really get holidays. That’s a really fun discovery that we’ve entered a new stage of parenting. I’m also pretty certain that this Fall was sweetened up by the stark contrast from last year – when we were quarantined and dreaming of these days when our kids would be again settling into “school” in a school building, parties where non-family are gathered, and festivities that are actually festive.

Which bring me to my point. Now that it’s November, I’m feeling a calling deep in my belly to sink deep into gratitude.

To kick it off, you see that mummy-wrapped brie? You see those terror-tinis in those creepy, cute beakers? I’ve never been so thrilled to march my Pinterest fails into a party and proudly claim them as mine, while my children (who were, for the record, the CENTER of our family Jurassic Park costume!) refused to don their pricey inflatable dinosaur costumes for even one quick snapshot. To see them cram their faces full of sweets that I didn’t bring with kids I didn’t grow in a yard that I didn’t own, that’s the kind of “normal” I am so grateful to see again.