As I mentioned in the original post, when I talk about choosing to be a happy mom…
“I don’t mean a mom who ignores everything bad, and/or buries her head in the sand about the evils of the world… Instead, I mean a mom who tries to focus on the positive, and chooses to be happy (again, to the degree that it’s possible).”– From the post Why Be a Happy Mom
Instead, when we think about choosing to be a happy mom, I mean that even though life is full of crap sometimes, it’s also often full of things to be grateful for.
Choosing happiness doesn’t mean burying our heads in the sand and ignoring the crap. It means trying to focus on the good stuff, and/or at least the potential for the good.
The poem Good Bones by Maggie Smith explains it better than any language I can conjure up to explain this mentality:
Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.