Getting it off my chest

>Every evening my husband asks me how my day was.  He probably holds his breath a little while he does it, because the odds are pretty high that I will sigh dramatically and then launch into a litany of large and small irritations of my day.  I blame this mostly on the fact that the end of the day is always a scramble of trying to get dinner ready, baths done, and bedtime routines completed with one boy and then the other.  He usually arrives at the tail end of this (or after it’s over), so all the happy little moments of the day go unmentioned until much later.

Walking the boys up to get doughnuts on this happy Fat Tuesday afternoon, I decided that what I ought to give up for Lent is complaining.

And so, here are the things I will not be talking about for the next 40 days…

I will not mention anything about how Theo slept for 11.5 hours one night and then woke up four times the next.  And then figured out how to roll onto his belly to fall asleep, but wasn’t sure he liked it so woke up every hour for two straight nights in order to complain about it.  It obviously follows that I also won’t mention how freaking tired I am.  Instead I will focus on how fabulous it is that this phase has passed and that I am no longer nursing him at night.  (fist pump!)

Accidents of the toilet variety shall also go unnoted.  Suffice it to say that we have roughly one per day, which is not coincidentally the same number of bowel movements that the toddler has in that same time frame.  Enough said.  I’ll just be happy that the traveling toddler toilet now stays put!

There will be no complaining about missed naps, cranky toddlers, meals uneaten, odd requests or the tantrums that ensue when they are not met.  I shall say nothing of having my hair yanked, pulled out, or sucked on by the infant.  I’ll revel in the fact that “everybody likes M&Ms” and that they do eventually mumble sleepy “love you”s before going to bed.

I will no longer sigh (or cry) about living so far from most of my family and friends nor silently curse Microsoft for making my husband not want to move.  Ok, I may still curse it, but as long as it’s silent, does that really count?  Surely not.

The house (a.k.a. the money pit) with its lack of playroom or guest room, or the backyard that gets approximately 20 minutes of sunshine each day, or the garage jam-packed with teaching supplies I’m not using and baby clothes I can’t seem to part with will fall off my list of daily woes.  I’ll just be grateful to have a roof over our heads and that our refinancing has allowed us to get housecleaning again.  I shall do a little happy dance every month when my house is freshly vacuumed and scrubbed, even if it only lasts all of an hour.

Uncertainty about my career and the rejection letter I received last week will stop being a primary focus of my 3 a.m. can’t-get-back-to-sleep musings.  I’ll be thinking instead about my plans to get endorsed to teach gifted and talented classes, and spend the next several months applying for positions around town for the fall.

I shall say nothing of my frustration at often finding myself still in pajamas at 4 p.m. most days, though this is fair warning to anyone thinking of dropping in on us before noon.  The deodorant doesn’t go on until the real clothes do.  Sorry about that.  It’s unfortunate for everyone.

You won’t miss hearing about back-to-back colds, being buried in tissues and covered in snot.
You’ll enjoy pictures of spring walks and babies in swings instead, I’m sure.  And so will I.  Here’s one to get us started:

Click on this to see it bigger.  It’s worth it!

With this resolution in mind, I find I’m looking forward to Lent.

I’ll miss the doughnuts, though.  They were delicious.  Oh wait, I’m not giving those up.  Good thing I bought an extra one for tomorrow…