It seems like there is misery surrounding me. I've been in a crabby mood for the past, well, let's not dwell on how long. The Husband's been in a bad mood all week. Various other family members seem to be looking down the dark path and last night Brynna began writing a book, Diary of a Sad Kid. It starts out with a diatribe about how bad life is.
"Are you writing fiction?" I asked, trying to be casual.
"Nope. Non-fiction," she replied honestly. Oookay. So, we suck. Our kid is sad and her life is "taruble." (You know, despite the fact that it's spelled wrong, I can't help but be proud of how phonetic it is.)
After a little bit of talking, we isolated a few things that are making her sad and took steps to correct them. Then, we indulged in some snuggle-bugging until bedtime. Because how can be sad when you are in a three-person snuggle-bug. (Maren had already gone to bed.)
This morning, she said, "Today is going to be the perfect day!"
"Oh yeah, why is that?" I responded. My head was pounding and Maren was participating in her new favorite car-ride passtime - babbling incoherently and then screaming at you for not responding properly. At least that's why I assume she's screaming. Since even her screams are not properly formed words, I can't be sure. We were running late (every day this week - for the win) and the car was making that noise that makes me nervous. From where I sat, it was not shaping up to be the perfect day.
"I don't know," she said. "Because it can be?"
And there you have it, friends and neighbors, the unbridled enthusiasm and optimism of a six-year old. Last night, her life sucked and today - the perfect day. And why not?
Then I came to work and opened my email. Months ago I read a blog. I commented on said blog, but because I thought my comment might spark criticism or debate, I subscribed to comments. It's not my habit on blogs that generally garner a great deal of comments, but I never remember to check back. Today, there was a new comment. There was some other stuff, but it ended with, "Happy mamas breed happy babies."
It's made me wonder if maybe my mood isn't at the center of all the angst. After a little argument yesterday, I was driving down the road, yelling at no one in particular. It makes me feel better, trust me. Most of what I was yelling was about how people treat you the way you treat them. You can't be horrible to everyone and expect them to bring you roses. I stand by that. Even the best people will eventually wear down under the constant pressure of your terribleness. I, by the way, am not the best people.
But maybe I'm just as guilty of walking around with a dark cloud over my head. Maybe you can't be down all the time without bringing everyone around you down. I've got a lot going on right now, and I may never talk about all of it here. But honestly, that's no excuse to walk around like Shleprock.
I tell Brynna sometimes that she has to make the decision to be happy. We could eat ice cream in Disney World while it rained M&M's and she would still be sad if that's how she had decided to feel. I think it's time to take some of my own advice.