The Easy Life

Sometimes life is just easy….
The day begins joyously, the air smells fresh, you weigh less than you did yesterday, you accomplish literally everything on your to-do list, your children and husband do exactly what they’re supposed to do without reminders, nagging, threats, or yelling (sweet Jesus).. no one freaks out, not even you because this life is all rainbows & fun and the sun is literally shining straight out of a unicorn’s asshole like a glittery, gold beacon of hope and fucking happiness!

Now that sounds pretty spectacular, doesn’t it? God, I really need one of those weeks.. although I’m unsure whether they exist for the unmedicated.
But the delusion and dream of those weeks is the very reason we choose to keep living when the inevitable shitstorm of reality engulfs us. They’re the reason we don’t flip the fuck out & assume the adult version of the fetal position (“hiding” in your closet drinking wine while pretending to let your child “seek” you for 20 minutes..)

Because there are days when you get home at 7:30pm after a 10 hour work day to find the gift of a broken heater on the coldest night of winter. Bonus: your husband is working that super-sweet night shift that was only supposed to be temporary 🎉 and you get to wake up tomorrow at 4:30AM to do this all over again! And yet you have a ravenous child nearing the emotional, bedtime breaking point of hysteria & of course you have no groceries in the house.
Side note: Pita chips and string cheese are a legit dinner in this house. Adding cantaloupe for her & wine for me and ✨✨✨ the guilt just magically flutters away 👌🏼

That perfect moment can be made even more golden by your child then revealing a strange, bumpy patch on her ankle that is most definitely ringworm.
So now you really need to wash everything in her room and yours but truthfully you might just call it & burn the freaking house down instead because remember, you have no groceries and without food, there really isn’t a reason to go on anyway.

Assume fetal position.

However all of that is massively tempered by the pure, simple sweetness that is childhood.
In those “just kill me” moments, you hold off in anticipation of the good stuff that is absolutely positively worth the wait.. every.single.time.
They’re small but precious moments: finding a tiny note saying in fat, crooked letters “I love you momy becusz I love you”.. or when your child tells you with precious, bright-eyed honesty that you’re their very best friend.
And nothing prepares you for the choking swell of pride in realizing your child just legitimately clobbered you at Connect Four and you didn’t even see it coming.

Personally, my favorites are the moments of blissed out hilarity such as turning around, while cooking dinner, to witness the badassery of your Kindergartener’s dance moves which could only be described as psychotic, injured porpoise meets Rihanna. (Nature vs Nurture adoption study right there)

The insanity of those unpredictable fluctuations are precisely why we are all craaaaaaaaaazy.. but they’re also why we carry on and why we cry and why we drink and what bonds us together because those moments are all normal. They are real life.

I remember thinking through each phase of my life, that when “x” happened, then I would be happy. But then “x” happened and so it was replaced with “y”.. and once “y” happened then I would be happy. And then.. and then.. and it just always seemed to cycle on with happiness always lingering just beyond my grasp.

I think at some point in each of our lives, we buy into the idea of “the perfect life” and in that instant of acceptance, so begins the lifelong quest that will literally kick our asses and steal so much of our joy along the way.
Then one day, you look at the life that you created, at the world & the people around you, you look at the very life you spent your entire life waiting for and building year by year by year, and you stop………
And you realize the only thing you’re still waiting for is you…. waiting for you to just finally be in this moment and be happy.

So this is me. Being me. Hi.