Thursday, March 7, 2013

happy

Robs is going through a phase. (I love her desperately - I will never claim motherhood is easy.) She doesn't like that Erikbear might be faster on his bike than she is on hers. So when we ride bikes, she gives him firm instruction to stay behind her. He see's right through it though, and will try to pass her anyway. (Whilst laughing...) It leaves her in a heaping puddle of sobbing mess. Literally. I can sometimes understand, and then sometimes it's a little much. And sometimes it leaves me antsy. (For example: yesterday.) I felt like a heel though, when I heard her telling Steve about her grouchy mother who likes to grump at her because she likes to ride her bike fast. (Sometimes I wish I could interpret my life through the understanding of a six year old - and then believe myself.)

So after we were all upstairs and the pirates were tucked in, we had a discussion on how we're happy with ourselves even when we meet others who are faster, smarter, cuter, or richer than we are at any given moment. "Pirates," I said, "life is not fair." And then I had them repeat "BUT WE ARE HAPPY ANYWAY."

And then after they were asleep I marched myself to our office (stopping in the kitchen for cookies) and spent the next hour reading two blogs about DIY-ing everything. Both blogs claimed every project was completed on the cheap - and they make it look easy and so darn rosy. And before I could think twice or try to make sense of it all, thoughts of DIY started dancing around my head. I started questioning my own decision to have tile installed (gasp!) between my garage entry and back door. (True confession: I have absolutely no idea why I ever thought carpet in that location would be acceptable.) 'It's tile,' I thought, 'It can't be that difficult to install...'

But then I looked at the tools they have that help them DIY everything. And they're not cheap. And then I went farther in and clicked on the tab that explores the recesses of their camera bags. And none of it was cheap. And their houses are beautiful, and not cheap. (Not that there is such a thing.) And then I remembered the tile I'd be trying to install myself is in the one portion of the house through which everyone passes several times daily.


So then I realized I'd landed myself in a twist. An antsy twist. I was one part envious with rose-colored glasses, two parts doubtful of my ability to make a decision and the pep-talk I'd just handed out? Long. Gone.

"Self," I said, "take yer own advice."

So I did, and after five minutes I still wasn't sure what to do about the flooring. But it felt nice to BE HAPPY ANYWAY. I have a happy life. A happy house (even with the carpet.) And I've got happy pirates (...ninety-nine percent of the time.) who care nothing for DIY and even less for those blogs about DIY. They'd rather be riding their thrifted skateboard across the deck that needs refinishing.

(...and I'm happy with that.)

2 comments:

  1. Amen and amen. I love your point about interpreting the world from our children's perspective and then reminding ourselves that it is their truth. And reminding myself that 95% of the time, my little angel is an easy going, happy, carefree child - it's only 5% of the time that she acts like a drama queen. 5% is bound to be grown out of :)

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  2. I'm jealous you guys are outside already!! We have about 20 feet of snow still.... okay not quite that much, but it feels like it. But since it is warming up this week I am hopeful we'll have lots of melting going on! And I think you should go for the tile! Brian did tile in our dining room this winter and we are loving it (carpet under the kitchen table = yuck) If you could find someone to loan you a tile saw - which is what we did, and found someone who has done it before it would definitely help - or just watch lots of youtube videos for help? Brian had never done it before and my stepdad was here and showed him how. It's not rocket science, and it wasn't that expensive either. And I just love reading your posts. They always make me smile. You really are a great mom.

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