The other morning I asked Mr. Manic: "Are you happy?"
I wasn’t asking him if he was ‘happy’ with me, with our relationship, or our marriage. I know he’s happy with that. I was asking it in the general sense. If he was happy. I think he’s too busy to be happy. He gets up, goes to work, works all day, comes home, does some sort of activity with some sort of child belonging to him, sometimes/rarely/hardly gets a decent lovingly prepared cooked meal, then we get the kids ready for bed, and he goes to bed. Rinse. Repeat.
Does this make a person happy?
I wonder because I think I do lots of things that make me feel happy, many times throughout every day, and then I started to think, are the things that make me happy selfish things? Do I really need to be doing these things? And I thought: Yes.
I need to do the things that make me happy so I can BE happy in order to be somewhat productive. In order to feel like I’m worth something. In order to just have a good/nice/pleasant day.
I decided to make a “Things That Make Me Happy” List, in no particular order:
Waking up feeling like I’ve slept enough.
The mornings when there is not much or any drama as the older two get ready for school.
Sending them off to school with our secret “Energy” hand-moves, and the “kiss-for-my-pocket” Diva and I exchange.
When Tukey wakes up happy. And he does his unintentional-I’m-still-tired Baby Voice. I love that.
Being able to walk to the nearest Starbucks.
Walking and hearing a really great song on my iPod.
Cool, crisp fall mornings/days/afternoon.
Early Fall, my favorite season.
Spring. Mid spring.
Wearing clothes that make me feel good.
Writing. I did say writing didn’t I? That makes me really happy.
My freelance work. Because it’s there. And it makes me feel happy. It makes me feel like I’m doing something worthwhile.
Going to the movies.
Seeing/talking/being with friends I haven’t seen in a while.
Huge hugs from Mr. Manic. Those do make me really happy.
I don’t know where this list is going, and I’ve kind of run into a wall, not that I can’t think of more things that make me happy, just that I didn’t want to write about frivolous things, or just anything. Like of course, my children make me happy. Of course, being with my family makes me happy. But I guess I was thinking more in terms of things I do for myself that make me happy, and the things that come to mind immediately are the selfish things. Things I probably couldn’t do if I had a full-time outside of the home career. Like yoga, writing, walking, going to B&N, seeing afternoon movies.
Do I deserve to have the time to do all of these things when Hubby is gone literally half of each his day working so hard to support our family, and here’s me, walking, writing, doing yoga, occasionally making a worthy meal, and folding laundry only enough so there’s clean underwear and a white t-shirt in Hubby’s drawer for him every day so he can get up, go to work, do it all over again. Rinse. Repeat?
Does Happy = Guilty?