"Always Look on the Bright Side of Life"

Graham Greene wrote in The End of the Affair that happiness is even harder to write about than goodness.  I've had a lot of things on my mind lately that I wanted to write about here, but I've had a hard time putting fingers to keyboard to put my thoughts down ("putting pen to paper" has a much better ring to it, but there it is).  The basic reason for my silence is happiness.  In the last few months, I've come to a place of contentment and even, dare I say, happiness.  I've made peace with myself about some things; made peace with our house; made peace with our city (mostly), and with so many of the realities that make up our lives here.  So it has been hard to find my writing voice in the middle of that process.  

Photo: Maxim Vyshegorodstev

I'm not a chirpy my-glass-overfloweth-type person.  I've never even been a glass half-full or -empty sort of person.  I've long been a glass-broken-and-shattered-on-the ground type of person.  So this new state of being is different for me.  Not unwelcome, just different.  Which is not to say that I don't have frustrations in my daily life--I have plenty--but I find I'm able to bounce back from them more easily.  Case in point: this morning started off extremely badly.  We all had a bad night because of various sick and can't-yet-sleep-through-the-bloody-night-yet children and everyone woke up ill-tempered.  My husband and I were snapping at each other, the boys were fighting and making trouble, Birdie was shrieking over every little thing.  I got madder and madder, and started to feel that all my hard-won gains of late were going down the drain.  My husband was storming around trying to fix his suddenly-defunct iPod touch and also deal with some last minute work crisis, I was trying to clean up the mess Boo made at breakfast after my husband gave him yogurt (always a mistake in my book) and deal with Birdie's constant shrieking for some food item she saw but couldn't reach (she had plenty of things on her tray, but any time she sees a new thing, she has to have it Right. Now).  Short to say, the atmosphere was unpleasant.  I stood at the kitchen sink fuming, washing yogurt-encrusted bowls, bibs, and other impedimentia, and suddenly, I felt calm again.  I realized I was being terrible and crabby, and that we all just needed to hit the reset button and start again.  I took a deep breath, finished the dishes, made my husband a faux latte (a sort of coffee drink of my own concoction) and brought it upstairs as a peace offering.  

"Peace." I said.  He took the cup with a word of thanks. 

"I'm sorry.  Let's start over," I said.  We hugged and all the tension in the house seemed to float out the window.  

So now I'm sitting here reflecting on how quickly this day has turned around.  I'm still exhausted from the night and emotionally spent from worrying about my kids, but I'm calm and composed.  I'll get some strong coffee from Starbucks this morning while we run errands and that always helps me perk up.  But mostly, I'm still happy.  And trying to remember what the Monty Python boys always say.

No one expects the Spanish Inquisition.