“I have nothing to complain about.” That’s what I was thinking as I fell asleep last night.

Previously in the evening, it seemed I had everything to complain about. Yesterday, which was typical of almost every day since John went back to work and my kids are still at home, included an intricate juggling act executed by me, alone.

First up was work emails, simultaneous with Cate’s speech therapy. Then I wrote a draft on Robotic Therapy, attended a Skype meeting, and welcomed the dishwasher delivery guys, who explained I will need a plumber and left the new dishwasher parked in the middle of my kitchen. Next I scrambled to finish an article on a historic home, then packed all three kids into my car and drove across town for Thomas’ haircut. Endured a little side-eye hate from Thomas due to said haircut, then  I stopped in my favorite Thai place and had a beer while we waited for some take-out. Finally, back home where we met John.

So seriously, what is there to complain about? At the moment I saw John I believe my main complaint was that I have to balance being a full time stay at home Mom with being a full time freelance writer. There may have been some, “Whoa is me, I still have hours of writing to do tonight even though the rest of the world is finished for the day.” Just picture me whining incessantly like a three-year old.

Then we took a walk, drank a few beers, and I wrote some fiction (non paid), and suddenly everything was rosy again.

This all led to my epiphany as I closed my eyes: Three years ago I would have given my right arm to have these problems. Or maybe my left arm; it’s fairly useless anyway. Working at a not-home office meant I could not organize the stay at home Mom projects/duties/etc. that had become such an important part of my life. I sat at my not-home office and worried and stewed over how I would get the kids to the dentist, how I would meet the repair man between 11 and 2 pm, or when I would have time to teach the kids how to do laundry.

Flash forward to yesterday when I was complaining about these exact scenarios. Sometimes I can really be a selfish brat. At least I realized it…even if a little late.

Today I woke up excited to embrace my life of juxtaposition. First up, I planned an impromptu birthday party for Henry (just a few weeks late on that one). As soon as I close my laptop in a minute, I’m off to interview the UK Football coach and tour his house. Then I’ll swing by the grocery, and after lunch I’m taking Henry plus two friends to play laser tag (my version of a last minute party).

Who knows what tomorrow will bring. Well, I mean, my calendar says it will bring two Skype meetings and hopefully a plumber. Need to get this damn dishwasher out of the box and into the spot where it actually does dishes.

My point: Sometimes we complain about things without really realizing that WE get to decide what happens in our own lives. So after that laser tag party today, I may or may not google, “How to install a dishwasher.” 


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