Life's a [Fill in the Blank]

I’m having an internal battle with my positive-thinking side and my life-is-hard-and-then-you-die side.

I’ve always envied natural optimists. (My 4-y.o. is one.) People whose default setting is happy, and who shake off setbacks and disappointments easier than the rest of us. People who embody the phrase “Don’t sweat the small stuff -- and it’s all small stuff.”

But try as I might -- and I do try – certain experiences just knock me off my shiny happy track. And then I veer over to the dark side. The “nobody said life was fair” and “life is full of disappointments” side. I don’t like it over there. Even though there’s lots of company.

I almost think that I’m succeeding at developing a sunny outlook because when they do come, disappointments are so much more disappointing these days. I guess if I was truly beaten down I’d just shrug and sigh, “Of course it didn’t work out. Again.”

I recently had a major work-related setback. A golden opportunity came floating down from heaven on angel’s wings. The stars aligned and pointed me toward my destiny at the exact moment I needed it most. Opportunity came knocking when I was showered, dressed, and my house was clean. Choose your own mixed metaphor.

And then, after loads of effort and phone calls and late nights and “finally my ship has come in” thoughts, it all fell through. Boom. Just like that, my ship sailed off into the star-crossed night and the angels lost their wings. (Sorry, I don’t know what’s going on with me today. Too many Christmas stories?)

I was devastated. I cried, I felt sorry for myself, I drank a lot of wine, and nothing anybody said made any difference. Interestingly, this is the same way my son reacted when a playdate he was really looking forward to was cancelled at the last minute because the other kid got sick. (Only substitute juice boxes for wine.)

It was awful to see my baby like that. He sobbed big, fat tears. He wailed and bemoaned the unfairness of it all. He was powerless to change things. His day was ruined. And there was nothing I could do or say to change it. Even though I knew that it wasn’t the end of the world, that we could reschedule the playdate, that we could find something else fun to distract him, I could see that for my son, it really did feel like the end of the world.

I know you’re probably thinking I’m going to end with a lesson here. Some sage advice about how I learned to take life’s hits in stride because of my son. But I’m not. I’m just going to say that, yes, sometimes life sucks. You don’t always get what you want. You can’t smile and force the world to smile with you at all times. A window doesn’t always open when a door closes. (Or whatever the heck’s the metaphor I’m mangling.)

So I’ll just say that it’s a lot easier to get past life’s disappointments when you have someone to hug and snuggle up with on the couch. So that’s what we did, my babies and me. And I thought maybe there’s someplace in between “life is a cabaret” and “life sucks.” Or maybe I should just leave the sayings alone. :)

READ O’ THE WEEK: Oh, jeez. Maybe it’s the time of year? I looked back in my archives and found this post I wrote almost a year ago to the day: “In All Honesty…” (On the upside, our tree didn’t fall down this year… yet.)

'Bitch Face' and the Road to Happiness

I occasionally suffer from a condition commonly known as “bitch face.” It’s involuntary, and I’m usually not even aware of it. It’s plagued me throughout my life, however.

People have often told me that before they knew me they thought I was stuck up, unfriendly, and/or unhappy. When I was single, a favorite pick-up line of guys in bars was, “Smile!” or “Cheer up!” (Shockingly, this line was ineffective and only made me want to punch the guy out.)

In fact, my self-consciousness and shyness were a big part of the problem. Most of the people I know who go around smiling all the time are pretty confident, outgoing types. Me? I’m a writer and blogger who doesn’t even use her real name or photo here. Draw your own conclusions.

I’ve learned a lot in my almost 36 years of life, though. Most lessons I have to learn over and over before they “stick,” BTW. But one of those is, if you smile people are nicer to you. And if people are nicer to you, you feel better about yourself. And if you feel better about yourself, you’re a happier person. Is that profound or what?

Fortunately, I smile a lot more these days. Mostly because I have 2 adorable kids I love more than anything. I dare you not to smile when you see tiny jean-clad butt or a miniature pair of rain boots. Or a round little Buddha belly or a peanut-butter-smeared, dimpled face. Go on, I DARE YOU.

Another lesson I’ve learned about happiness? It’s a choice. When I was younger, I used to think that circumstances determined a person’s happiness. If only I had a job I liked, I’d be happy. If only I had a boyfriend, I’d be happy. If I only I had a better body, nicer apartment, more friends, a bigger paycheck … you get the picture. Is it any wonder I was often miserable?

Becoming a freelance writer actually made things worse for a while. I gave up a high-paying job to sit in solitude in front of my computer all day, sending out queries and getting back rejections -- or worse, nothing but silence. I joined a writers’ group and soaked up the anxiety and negativity of the most vocal members. Every acceptance made my heart soar, every rejection stung like a slap in the face.

To be honest, it was a relief when I got married and then pregnant with my first child. I could focus on something else for a while. I eventually went back to writing, but things were different. First of all, I welcomed what little solitude I could find. Second, I connected with other writers online and started writing again for pleasure by starting a blog.

I did less pitching and got more work through networking and referrals, including some of my biggest career successes to date. And the highs and lows evened out because I no longer had my ego and self-worth all tied up with my profession. I had one, and now 2 little boys to remind me of what’s really important.

It kind of sneaked up on me, but I have realized I am finally happy. Sure, I still have struggles and disappointments, but deep down I am content and at peace with my life. And that’s enough to make anyone smile.

SHOUT OUT: To my fellow writer Christina Katz, the original Writer Mama, The Prosperous Writer, and the inspiration for this post. I'm fairly certain she never has bitch face. When I took her class 2 mos. after becoming a new mom, I never dreamed it would set me on the path I’m on today. Thanks, dear!

You, too, can take her class, Writing & Publishing the Short Stuff, or my class, Personal Essays that Get Published, both starting May 12. You'll be glad you did!

10 Things that Make Me Happy

I don’t usually participate in contests or memes (mostly because I don’t even know what that word means), but I am today. Laura at The Life of a Tattooed Mom of 3 bestowed me with the Sweet Friend Award. First of all, how great is her blog’s name? Second, how nice is that? And third, this one sounds like fun: all I have to do is list 10 things that make me happy, then share this award. Ready? In no particular order:

1. My family. I know I bitch and moan a lot, but you want to know why I keep going even in the face of sleepless nights, other people’s poop, kid-inflicted injuries, no free time, and stains on everything I own? Because every single day my 3 boys (yes, even the 37-y.o. one) bring a smile to my face and a warm glow to my soul. Also, they give good hugs.

2. My house. Yes, it’s usually messy. And it could use more closet space. And a new kitchen. And one day, I hope it will be more Pottery Barn and less Fisher Price. But I love it, from the blue shutters to the painstakingly repainted walls to the sunny family room. It’s even got the white picket fence. Well, white-ISH.

3. Magazines. When I was a kid I read hand-me-down Elles and the NY Times Sunday magazine. Even my brother’s skateboarding mags and my mom’s Family Circle. Today, I’ve graduated to O and Real Simple. There’s just something about holding a shiny, new piece of reading material filled with interesting stories and pretty pictures. I am still grieving the loss of Wondertime, BTW.

4. Writing. Given #3, it’s probably no surprise that I grew up to write for magazines. Of course, just like Ugly Betty I soon learned there’s a lot of grunt-work and politics behind the glitz and glamour. Still, nothing compares to seeing your byline in print and your story on newsstands. I even like writing press releases and corporate copy. But the writing I really love is this stuff. From the heart, direct to my readers, right here on my little ol’ blog.

5. Exercising. I know. I lost you, didn’t I? I can’t help it; it’s in my blood. I grew up handing out water at my dad’s marathons and doing Kathy Smith workout videos with my mom. Gymnastics, swimming, tennis, kickboxing, and yoga mark the stages of my life. (There was even a brief step aerobics phase.) You may never see me training for a triathlon, but I cherish my 3-4x/week gym workouts. It’s one of the few times I get a break from my kids!

6. Reading. Sadly, this hobby has taken a big hit since I had kids. I simply don’t have the time or brain power to read entire novels anymore. I wish I did. But for now, my reading is limited to magazines, blogs, and the occasional anthology. It doesn’t really matter what, it’s the act of stepping outside your own little world and learning about other subjects.

7. Watching TV. What I’m doing instead of reading novels: watching Ugly Betty, Chuck, Modern Family, and Cougar Town. On DVR, of course. No time for commercials.

8. Traveling. Another thing that’s in my blood, thanks to my globe-trotting parents. And another thing that’s taken a hit since kids. (But hasn’t stopped entirely.) When you wake up in a new place, especially one that’s vastly different from your home, even routine daily activities like grocery shopping and riding the bus are an adventure.

9. Good food. Specifically, food that’s not cooked by me. I have had some spectacular meals in my life, like the pasta arrabiata at a restaurant in Paris, tapas at our favorite spot in Baltimore, and the salmon at my cousin’s rehearsal dinner in Yosemite, to name a few.

10. Music. Back in the day, my husband and I used to go to concerts fairly often. We both love music (though not always the same kind) and even now, a favorite activity is hooking up the iPod and watching the boys dance in the family room. I appreciate good music (plug for my favorite local radio station, 89.7 WTMD) and a good song can change my mood in an instant. There are too many to name, but one of my all-time favorites is Suzanne Vega’s “Gypsy.”

Wow, that was fun, huh? Now I’m passing the torch to a few of my favorite bloggers, in alpha order. (If you're not listed, you've already been tagged or I don't think you'll do it!)

Anchormommy
hooey!critic
The Dundee Writer
The McMommy Chronicles
Musings from Mt. Rogo
Personal Faves
Pineapple Babble
So Much to Say, So Little Time
Write Expressions
Writing the Waves of Motherhood

Adventures of a Recovering Pessimist

Did anyone see that Michael J. Fox special a while back, “Adventures of an Incurable Optimist?” If not, you should. I am fascinated by stuff like that. I get sucked into articles that promise “7 Secrets to a Happier Life” and “What the Happiest People on Earth Know that You Don’t.”

It’s not that I’m UN-happy. It’s just that I really do believe that some people are naturally optimistic and some people aren’t. My 3 y.o. son, Miles, as I’ve mentioned before, is naturally happy. It’s just the way he is. Even if he wakes up on the wrong side of the bed, spills his juice, and sobs into his Goldfish because I won’t let him watch 12 straight hours of Little Einsteins, he gets over it pretty quickly and is soon happily playing with his cars. He doesn’t dwell, doesn’t hold grudges.

I, on the other hand, am always wary, always worrying, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I like to think I’m realistic, grounded, practical. But maybe I’m just a grump.

My husband and I have arguments all the time that stem from our different views of “negative” and “positive.” He leans towards Miles in terms of temperament. So if I start to go on and on about how our windows are leaking, we have ants in the kitchen, and there are 5 baskets of unfolded laundry that need attention, he gets annoyed. “Enough with the negativity!” he’ll moan.

See, that’s where we’re different. I don’t see that stuff as negative -- even though it’s certainly not positive. It’s just reality. And we’ve got to deal with it whether we like it or not. I don’t see how ignoring the less pleasant parts of life helps any. It certainly doesn’t make them go away.

Nevertheless, I have been making a concerted effort to be a happier person. (Ignore that snort from my husband.) Partly, it’s because I don’t want my kids drawing frowny faces on me in all their pictures. Partly, it’s because Miles asks me several times a week, “Are you happy, Mama?” and I want to be able to answer truthfully. And partly, it’s because if someone with a degenerative disease like Michael J. Fox can be happy most of the time, then so can I, dammit!

So here are some of my happiness “secrets” I’ve discovered:

Think less, do more. I’m a writer, a thinker, a ruminator. I spend a lot of time in my head imagining what MIGHT happen, what I SHOULD be doing, and what other people COULD think of me. A recipe for misery, right? But now that I’ve got 2 kids, a leaky house, and endless loads of laundry to occupy me, I have less time to dwell on the (imaginary) negatives.

Be in the moment. Now, I hate this statement so much that I wrote an entire blog post about it. But guess what? It’s true. You enjoy life more if you focus on doing what you’re doing, not what you already did or should’ve done, or what you will do or should probably do.

What’s helped me is to stop watching the clock. It does me no good to remind myself that my husband won’t be home for 7 hours or that it’s only 10 a.m. and the kids are already bored. So we get busy watching worms in the dirt or pretending to be pirates and before I know it, the time has flown by.

Be kind to yourself. Again, it’s a cliché. People say it, but what does it really mean? For me, it means allowing myself to nap on the couch with the baby if I feel like it, instead of running around straightening up the house or checking e-mail. Allowing myself to pop in a movie on a rainy afternoon instead of forcing everybody to do some enriching activity. Ordering takeout sometimes -- even on a Monday! -- rather than making a meal from scratch that half the family won’t even eat.

You know that saying, “Laugh and the world laughs with you”? (That’s a saying, right? Or is it an REM song?) Anyway, I’m finding that to be true. When I’m happier, people are nicer to me. People hold doors for me, help me with my bags, give me extra coupons. Just the other day I got a free drink at Baja Fresh. (Also on the list of secrets to happiness: nachos.)

Michael J. Fox is on to something, people. And so is Miles. His motto is: When life hands you lemons, beg your Mom for lemonade.

LINK O’ THE WEEK: One of my writing students just published this awesome, honest essay about adjusting to being a SAHM. I can totally relate, can you?