Happiness is drawer full of clean underpants. Or: How I use some form of the word HAPPY eleventy-million times and mean it all eleventy-million times.

Because I am finally seeing a pinpoint's worth of light at the end of this tunnel called pregnancy, I often catch myself smiling and laughing at things that aren't really that funny. And then laughing harder because the sound of a really-real laugh coming from my own body makes me so incredibly happy these days. I equate it to eating candies in church, which I haven't done since I was eleven, but remember being the only thing remotely enjoyable about church. Butterscotch from the bottom of my grandma's purse.

So I'm having a morning. A good one, wherein the vacuum being out of commission another week is not making me want to crawl around on my hands and knees picking up threads and mulch from the carpets, and my belly is full of blueberry bagel with cream cheese. Where I usually look around at the house and think, what do I need to do today? as soon as my husband and daughter leave for work/school- I'm thinking more along the lines of wow-i feel pretty good and nothing really needs to be done today that I don't really want to do.

What do I do now? Well. I write a blog entry, eh-hem, about the ways my life is getting ready to change and how I'm suddenly not scared or worried about it, but chomping at the bit and ready to gallop full on into motherhood 2.0. And how happy it makes me to be able to type that with such honesty.

Call me lazy, but I am looking forward to having two kids because it's going to keep me busy enough that I won't have time to look around at the house and notice all the stuff I haven't done that typically sends me into a guilt spiral about being the world's worst mother/wife/person. This will be a miracle. I'm already using baby #2 as an excuse to let stuff go. (And I'm okay with that.)

Having a baby outside of my body means I can wear any shoes I want because bending over will be a cinch again. The simple act of putting sock on or painting one's toe nails is so underrated it's scary. (Seeing my lady parts will also be nice again, but I'll abstain from further details on this one.)

My own attitude won't be the only one morphing around this new household dynamic. The subtle change on my husband's face when he gets home and remembers that there's ONE more person who is happy to see him and will (one day soon) be running at his legs when he comes through the door after work.... that is something that tickles me pink. I have an uncanny desire to repay my husband for all the happiness he's given me in our few years together and I think that this one simple thing will make up for the times he looked in his top drawer and there weren't any clean underpants to wear.

I said underpants.

But seriously, I know I'm not always the poster-woman for motherhood or even someone who can give good advice to others about being a parent. I don't pride myself on being a good mom because I've come to realize that the sum of my parts adds up to more than just a mother. And more importantly, I'm not perfect. My desires more often include the happiness of my daughter and my husband and I frequently put them first, but I am learning that my own feelings and dreams are still alive and beating hard. And in order for me to be the best I can be at teaching, loving, learning and helping my family... the more important it is for me to include my happiness with theirs.

My step-dad used to say about his mother, "If mama ain't happy... there ain't nobody happy." A silly sounding adage I think, but all too true. My family looks to me for many things. This is a fact that scares and stuns me more than it delights me. Sure, I keep capri-suns in the fridge for my daughter because she loves them and I'm trying my best to make sure my husband never sees the bottom of his underwear drawer. But these minutia only make things easier.

What makes them happy is looking around and seeing everyone else happy. Hearing the person next to us laugh or burying our faces in each others necks and saying i love you. It's happiness that's holding those words up and pushing them out from our guts. And our own bite of bliss is directly related to the people we love and how much they are gnawing on at any given moment. And in about forty-one days (give or take), the piece of happy-pie I've been lucky enough to stuff my cheeks with will get just a tiny bit bigger.


It's Friday. Let yourself get caught up in this little bit of magic my husband sent me. You've earned it just as much as I have.