Some days I have an awareness of just how peachy (and downright marvelous) my life actually is. Even when it’s annoying and stupid and exhausting and over-caffeinated. Today is one of those days. Here are just a few of the things I’ve said aloud this morning in slight self-beration of just how okay I really am.
I’m doing okay if:
…The most frustrating part of my morning is dealing with Target.com returns. I think we can all agree that a) Target.com is a special little nation where logic need not apply, but also that b) the ability to vent at a customer service representative about winter footwear is a magical privilege not afforded to those without running water- or the means to replace boots once they no longer “work.” (That said, come on Target.)
…Frozen pizza for tonight’s dinner is my current guiltiest Mom Guilt. There are folks who are actively terrible to their offspring. A heat n’ eat dose of pepperoni (probably) won’t be what my kids tell their future therapists.
…The deadlines which make my face and throat and belly anxious are for jobs that I love, that I’m fortunate to get, and that I (usually) feel pretty darned good at. I am not a coal miner which, again, I think we can all agree I’d be downright rotten at. (“Can I go back out now?” “No.” “How about now?” “No.”)
…A large portion of December pressure I feel is over impending Christmas events, gifts, and festivities. I’m sorry, stress and anger because we can’t seamlessly move from Wonderful Thing to Wonderful Thing? I’m sad in my pursuit of loudly creating JOY for loved ones? Go sit down, Me, and drink some egg nog. (Which we have in the fridge because your husband has a nice job, Me. Seriously, Me, maybe spike it. You’re getting a tad whiny.)
…The biggest concern for the afternoon is what to do with this monkey.
Because everyone knows that face-planting at 10 a.m. bodes well for the rest of the wakey-time day.
Which again, is a luxury. Yes, a future cranky toddler is a luxury. I know this. I know it and I appreciate it and- today, at least- I’m wrapping it around me like a fuzzy blanket. Which, if I were to purchase online, I definitely wouldn’t be doing at Target.com.
I’m just saying.
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