Last night was a rough one.
My husband’s anti-harmonic snoring drove me from our bed to my 9-yr-old ‘s room so I could maybe get some decent sleep.
Baby wakes up just before midnight, but not to be upstaged by big sister moments later. And everyone wanted to rage as my husband slept peacefully through all of it. There’s crying and whining, I was kicked in the face multiple times, elbowed and head butted. I was curled in the fetal position on the edge of a full-size bed monopolized by my own spawn.
I woke up cranky and exhausted while my husband may as well have burst out of bed whistling with little blue birds chilling out on his shoulder.
If I had to describe my mood at that moment it would have been, throat-punchy AF.
I had coffee, I snapped out it, got over Snooreapalooza and went about the day.
With kids the days are long and your patience feels short. You can start the day on a high note and end it over a melt down because there’s parsley in the breading on the chicken nuggets.
I’m tired. And stressed, and go all day like I’m playing beat the clock. I get calls from school about a headache an hour after drop off. I have a baby who thinks it’s hilarious to press every button on the remote, disabling the TV and forcing me to call my husband to explain how to fix it. I trip in my house on toys, dog bones and little shoes all day. I have had work being done on my house for months from hurricane damage and it’s still not complete. I have writing deadlines and work calls and pediatrician appointments and endless trips to the grocery store because everyone always wants to be fed. And I’m literally drowning in laundry.
I’m tired. But I’m also happy. Like insanely happy feeling as if I hit the kid and husband jackpot. Our life is equal parts laughter and chaos. Life is not easy. It’s filled with obligations and is crazy expensive.
And it hits me that THIS is what happiness is. It’s not walking out your door looking camera-ready doing a pageant wave while you get into a spotless car and make every light. It’s not coasting all day with out a single hiccup. You guys, there are so many damn hiccups.
Happiness is whiny kids, a husband who snores so loud you want to throw stuff at him, cooking three meals for four people and burning something along the way, listening to roofers banging above you for hours, your baby changing the language settings on your printer, you tween rolling her eyes because you forget to get more lemonade, and still getting hospital bills from the baby you delivered a year and a half ago.
Happiness is imperfections and mishaps and exhaustion.
Happiness IS hiccups. Because it’s when you can look around, messiness and all, and know that even despite all the annoying stuff that makes you feel like you’re losing your mind, you are happy. Content. And wouldn’t change a thing. Not even the hiccups.
Happiness isn’t always smiles.
THIS is happiness.