It came up in conversation with a friend recently that my blog makes her want to vomit. I can’t remember her precise reasoning (which may or may not have anything to do with the lovely red I was drinking) but it was along the lines that I’m annoyingly happy and positive all the time, and everything in my life always seems perfect. At the time I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Fortunately I took the less embarrasing route and laughed, which is so unlike my usual self.
I think the key in me avoiding tears was I actually respected her for being able to tell me the truth, because I came to realise some time ago that not everyone is going to be a fan of the way I do things – and that’s actually ok. And I also didn’t cry because I believed, in part, that she was actually telling the truth. I’ve always looked at the glass and seen it as half-full, at the very least. And I’ll always be the annoying one that has to find something positive to say about a situation, even if I have to make it up. Because I just don’t like thinking about things being bad. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have avoidance issues or anything – I just don’t see the point on dwelling in the muck and mire. And I’ve found the longer you stay in that place the harder it is to get out. So I don’t go there if I don’t have to.
I have days that completely suck, just like everyone else. My life is far from perfect. Sure I have beautiful kids (though sometimes I’d swear it’s an outwards thing only) and an I-still-can’t-believe-I-snagged-him husband, but there are still days where it takes everything I’ve got to simply get out of bed and do it all over again. But none of you really need to hear about those days. And you definately don’t want to be having one of those days when you log on and read about my crappy day. Me putting it out there really doesn’t make anyone feel a whole lot better about life. So I’d rather put the good things out there. My happy thoughts. My proud moments. My sickly sweet rose-coloured view of life. When I choose to be positive, and have faith, and be happy, and dwell (or even gloat) on the good things in my life, it’s because I know those are the things that have the power to make me want to get out of bed and do it all over again. Those are the things I live for.
So I’m not going to tell you right now how tired I am. How exhausted I feel. And about how often I feel like the worst mother ever, and often not the best of wives either. Or the million and one other thoughts or feelings that could possibly run through my mind in one day.
Instead I’ll tell you about the moment yesterday, mid morning, with sunlight and warmth streaming through the kitchen window, when Alicia-Rae walked up to me and asked me to dance. So I picked her up, as she wrapped herself tightly around me (much like one of those clip-on koala toys), pressing her sweet, soft little cheek to mine. I hummed a made-up song, because I can’t hold a tune anyway, and we slowly waltzed our way over the tiles, moving from counter to counter, giggling and hugging as we went. I swear I’ll remember that moment long after she’s old enough to do the same with her own children. And I pray she does. Because they’re the moments worth getting out of bed for. They’re the ones that make me annoyingly happy. And they’re the ones I choose to live with, and share.
Along with moments like these.
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Happy Monday to you. And I mean the happiest of Mondays.
Narrelle x