All is well in my world today – kids are happy and relatively healthy. Sam is coming down with a slight cold, I suspect, he was congested this morning, but seems fine now. I just spent the past three hours cleaning – and am happy to report that the house is not spotless, but clean enough for my standards. Admittedly, those are low, but the laundry and dishes are done, beds made, floors vacuumed, and kids fed. Now for naptime
Had an interesting couple of days – with major fights with my mother and my sister. There’s a sense, among various family members, that I am unhappy or stifled or living my life for my kids and my husband. It was really disconcerting, trying to argue that you are in fact happy, and can’t quite figure out why everyone thinks I’m not. I literally had to check with people – do you think I’m happy? Because the arguments that I wasn’t, that I was just PRETENDING to be happy, were so vehement.
But if nothing else, I did a lot of introspective thought, and have come to the conclusion that I am happy. Yes, there are conflicts in my life, I have issues with my husband and time he spends at the gym, sometimes dealing with my husband’s ex makes me insane, and there’s the usual stress of having two children under six… but I’m still happier than I’ve ever been (and that’s saying a lot, because I have had a pretty exceptional life, in terms of happiness). I’m in love with my husband, confident and secure in my marriage, I LOVE being a SAHM, I love spending all day with my kids, listening to them talk, teaching them about the world, baking cookies and folding their clothes. I really like the concept of building a family and feel as though this is what I’m meant to do. This, right here, this is what I love… Jessie, with her curls falling out of a braid, and serious brown eyes, working on her homework, Sam, with his dimples and earnest little soul, playing with his working guys, soup bubbling on the stove… how could anyone possibly think I’m unhappy?