Optimist
I have always been an optimist. Seeing the good in people and situations makes me happy. Most of my friends genuinely appreciate my outlook from what I’m told. Some humor me because it’s easier than refuting, and the cynical ones and I just laugh, wondering how the hell we’re friends. The world is made up of a gazillion different personalities, and it would boring without most of them.
I think I choose optimism for the sake of my sanity. Since my daughters were born, I have been a working mom. Not just a working mom, but a non-stop, over-tired, autopilot mom. I have run the gambit of time consuming PTA positions at each of their schools, devoting countless hours to incredible causes that do NOT include the influx of my bank account. In my spare time, I have played chauffer – driving the girls to all of their endless activities, games, birthday parties, playdates, you name it. I may have been thanked for my services by one of my kids once, but I couldn’t really hear the details because I was too busy yelling at the little one not to smash Cheerios between her toes on the way to gymnastics.
Speaking of Cheerios, my car is a mess. A real shithole. I have actually had 10 year olds refuse to sit down after witnessing the spread of fossilized food particles, dirty socks, and used napkins that were uncovered beneath my 4 year old’s carseat. Nestled in the crevices of the “way back”, I find jazz shoes, school forms that were due months ago, and once, I even found a full, uneaten hot dog. It was hard and shriveled and didn’t even smell! I estimate it was approximately 2 years old given the last time any of my kids ate a hot dog.
None of them eat hotdogs. The oldest prefers grilled chicken and hates peanut butter. The middle LOVES vegetables to an insane degree, but hates jelly and Mexican food. The little one could survive on mac & cheese and candy if I let her. She likes both peanut butter and jelly but not in the same sandwich. Packing lunches is a logistical nightmare, and it sends my husband over the edge. He literally sweats when tasked with lunch duty and inevitably puts the wrong items in the wrong lunch boxes. Once he packed Brussel sprouts in my middle’s lunchbox upon her insistence. We warned that they could be stinky, but she knew better than us. When she came home that day, she was crying. “What’s wrong, honey?” I asked with genuine concern. “I had to sit all by myself today because my friends said that my lunch smelled like farts.” How do you tell a 7 year old “I told you so” without sounding like a total jerk (especially when you are holding back hysterical laughs due to the subject matter)? In reality, it didn’t matter what I said because at the end of the day, she blamed Daddy.
Yes, having 3 strong-willed, wildly opinionated daughters is insane. Our house is loud, we are late everywhere we go, and my husband might as well grow a vagina. It’s all girl for sure! Our days are filled with hundreds of unexpected short story moments, a jumbled scatter of responsibilities, ridiculous commentary, all mixed with the “oh shit” moments of the things I completely forgot to do.
But to be completely honest, I love it. I love every crazy moment. Am I exhausted and disheveled most of the time? Uh, yeah. But I choose to laugh amid the insanity because it brings joy to my soul. To me, I see life as a comedy of errors filled with ups and downs. There are days when I just want to punch a hole through the wall and scream, but then I think about my medical costs for a broken hand and the bid for new dry wall and rethink. There is no win when I let the world smash me to smithereens, so I choose optimism. And the recurring tagline reads, “So on the bright side…”
