Are You Happy?

"Are you happy?" was the catch title on the magazine.  I didn't pick it up but the question lingered.

I thought it an odd question, one which theoretically requires only a "Yes." or a "No." and yet it begs with either answer, "Why?" 

At two in the morning, the answer woke me up from sleep and came spinning out of my brain.   Was I happy?  Yes. 

Why?

It wasn't because my life was easy.  That week we'd dealt with a broken dryer, throw up from two children, one really awful grade, the bills, collecting of paperwork for taxes and an unwanted three extra pounds.  Top that with college looming for the oldest, the youngest being only two months old and a three year old that kept having set backs on pottying and certainly by the world's standards, I should be miserable if not insane to boot.  

Yes I should be prematurely gray and worn thin. Ten children lead to exponential messes if even half drop their shoes, coats and backpacks at the door when they explode out of the car.  Ten beds to make or at least check, thirty three meals in a day and sixty-five items of clothing plus possible sheets and towels loom every evening by the washing machine.  There is always a list.  This week two need hair cuts, we need to get an oil change, three dressers should be threaded for clothes out of season or that don't fit and I have to schedule four dental appointments, order a birthday present, get track shoes and we have music lessons on Tuesday.

With pasta, hot dogs and waffles as regulars on the weekly menu, vacations that are mostly camping or to see family and a 12 passenger van that often is filled with stuffed animals, stickers and coats that have been orphaned, it seems I should at the very least feel discontent and dissatisfied. Like a modern day Rapunzel trapped in a tower of old french fries, diapers and broken crayons, (all of my own making), waiting to make a mark on the world in some way other than mothering, I should be screaming "Calgon Take me away." But the inescapable fact of the stillness of 2:32 a.m. as I listened to the faint sound of my son's radio, my two year old singing in his sleep and the gentle sigh of milky contentment from the baby, was.... I am happy.

Even with three year old sneakers and maternity jeans because the others don't fit quite yet, it didn't matter and I couldn't stop the happiness.   It was pouring out like an endless bubbling fountain and yet I felt full; the fullness of my happiness echoed my youngest daughter's happiness at being full. 

Back to the question. Why?

Because the world does not quite get happiness. 

It can't because happiness is not of this world.  Happiness is not the absence of work or total ease of life.  (Celebrities would be example 1 of how having all your appetites sated and all your worldly needs addressed in abundance and being even surrounded by success and beauty have nothing to do with actual happiness). Happiness is and was and will always be a state of grace, brought on by having meaningful things to do, people to love and a relationship with the Divine that acknolwedges that all of this, good, bad, messy and ugly, difficult and seemingly impossible is practice.  We are testing how much we will love in this life; how close we dare skate to God in our fallen state.

With a beloved husband and ten alarmingly interesting people to serve and nurture thorugh this life, my life could only be understood as lavishily happy, shamelessly joyful, luxiouriously luminously laborious but peaceful.   Was I happy?  Yes. Yes.  A thousand times yes times a thousand more yes.

3:07 a.m.   Now.  If the question had been, "Are you rested?"  Different story.

How to Party when You're Grown Up

For some reason, adults always downplay their own milestone markers. Recently, I heard two friends talk of having dull birthdays. These adults are the same people that hire ponies, cater bar-b-que, and hold an all day fiesta when their children turn two. The result is that birthdays become a marker of aging, rather than a time of celebration. To help all of those in the parenting stage of life, acknowledge the anniversary of their birth about gaining another year, but not being old, I present the following tips.

1) Invite Friends. Whole Families, extended family, neighbors and their friends, their dogs, cats, gerbils, hamsters. It’s your birthday darn it, and people should first, know about it and second, properly celebrate it.
The best way to do this is to send invites or e-vites, it allows you to publicize the event without seeming immodest.

2) Think Fun. I know those fun muscles are out of practice, they probably have stretch marks. But exercise routines start with the first day you decide to exceed the normal 2.6 miles most people trod in a day, and well, you don’t want something like this to happen to you.

When I turned 30, I was handed three lovely presents by my husband, an unwrapped autographed book by Bill Bradley and a CD of Dennis Miller Rants, plus some very good chocolate. He kissed me and said, “Happy Birthday.”

I swallowed hard and managed a feeble “Thanks.” I really did like the gifts but felt uncelebrated. He looked at my face and said, “You’re sad.” I shot back, “I’m thirty years old. It’s my birthday. I’m NOT SAD.” He looked at my eyes. “You are sad.” My lip quivered. “I AM SAAAD.” And man did I bawl.

Fortunately, my beloved husband took charge and we went to Gettysburg and toured Picket’s Charge on my birthday, and then to Williamsburg for a day at Busch Gardens where he and I took turns going on roller coasters and watching our then two children. My daughter, then two months old, let me sleep through the night. It was a celebration bonanza.

Of course that meant I had to come up with something just as funtastical for his Big 3-0, so I invited all of his guy friends from college and high school and law school to our home for the weekend.

We saw Star Trek First Contact –remember back when Star Trek was good? Almost me neither. We ate steaks and I made Tres Leches –a gloriously bad for you cake that requires more cholesterol than found in an entire five buckets of KFC. It’s made with at least a dozen eggs and a can of sweetened condensed milk. I’ll email the recipe if you ask.

We played flag football and went to Dave and Busters in the evening. I’d arranged for sitters to allow us all to go play for the evening. I even was a good wingman to a friend of ours who was and is an actual pilot in the Air Force. Who knew I could be a wingman?

The point of all this is plan. Have a plan and execute the plan, but most importantly, plan to have a blast.

3) Laser Tag, Dinner at a restaurant you’ve been dying to try or even one that sings those hokey songs and makes you wear a Sombrero are great. Bar-b-cue in the back yard, A baseball game, go-carts, a concert, bowling, poker night, a day at the pool, the park or the beach, a snowball fight, a water gun fight with your kids, tickets to a show, flag football at the park, the possibilities are endless.

4) If you like to or would like to try, play video games, let your kids teach you. New skills make the mind agile and feel young. You can’t really feel old when you’ve just schooled your teenage son in wii golf. It’s not possible. Gloating is permitted and even in some families, considered an art form. Who’s your Mamma?
Note to self: work on end zone routine.

5) Wear a new outfit. Most of us moms get a new outfit for the birthday kid so they’ll look spiffy for the pictures. Do the same for yourself, whether it’s a haircut, a manicure or even just a new pair of shoes. Spruce yourself up so you look good, you’ll feel good.

6) Reality like sick kids, work schedules and unavoidable activities sometimes crowd a birthday. This is why our family celebrates Birthday Month. Why limit the fun to just one day? This does mean that seven months out of the year, not counting actual scheduled holidays, we're celebrating. Want some cake? Odds are in your favor in the spring if you come over.

7) Go to Mass. If possible, receive the sacrament of reconciliation so you can start your next year with a fresh spirit. Okay, this last one is only completely doable if you’re Catholic.

8) Feast well. Calories on Birthdays are 100%allowed. Chocolate Cake all day? Why yes thank you. I believe I will….

9) Write down three things you hope to accomplish next year and put them in a birthday jar. Have each of your family do this as well, and on you next birthday, see if you did them.

10) Schedule a Health Check up and a Dental appointment. Why? Because the year will go better if you know you’re taking care of you.

11) Go to the Bookstore or Library, pick out a book you’ve been meaning to read. Start the first chapter.

12) Take a picture of all those you love. Don’t forget to include yourself, even if you hate how you look in pictures. Try to remember all of the birthdays past that you can, going backwards, or your favorites. Don’t forget to call your siblings and your parents and other family members not present to get their memories of those same events.

13) Hog the remote.

14) Start a diary. Leave it by your bed. You’ll be amazed next year.

15) Take a long hot bath

16) Open your presents…hint to family, wrap them.

17) Plan a trip for the following year somewhere you’ve always wanted to go.

18) Take up an instrument/art/craft you’ve never done before and always admired or wished you knew…who knows what will happen. Practice and failure and surprise success are all good for the soul.

19) Blow out the candles. All of them. Give everyone a big slice with extra frosting.

20) Give Thanks to God.

A Few Easter Thoughts

Every Sunday, we go to mass and some days, mass is easier than others. Knowing there were chocolate bunnies and eggs to find made some of our crew a bit squirrely for the 8:30. My oldest was in Florida, my two oldest girls altar serving, and my husband and I were left to deal with our eight year old --not a morning son, our sentimental fiver and what are affectionately referred to as the "non sentient" crowd.

The Non Sentients began by entering the pew and announcing to anyone within earshot --the entire church, that the Easter Bunny had brought Chocolate. The four year old began then flapping like a bird for joy.

Then the organ played a practice Alleluia, he felt the need to flap and say the word, "Flap. Flap. Flap."

Still, his joy was infectious and I soon had a flock of would be flamingos.

Faced with flapping toddlers in a crowded church, I tried to suggest that this wasn't the time. Looking around, the other toddlers stuck in stiff Easter dresses followed my son's cue and began their own immitations of a faithful flock.

The opening music fortunately stopped the toddlers from taking flight but I was struck by their response to Easter for the rest of mass.

Happy Easter. May we all be so happy we could fly.