It isn't often that I start a post with those words - even though happiness has been a large part of our family life this year.
Typically at the end of the day when I finally have time to blog there's been some incident with our kids ~ some issue that we're working through ~ that has captured my attention.
I frequently chronicle the episodes of our own real-life family situation comedy; landing us somewhere between Family Ties and The Simpsons I guess.
Lately we've had some dramatic moments. It's been easy to get caught up in recording the things that aren't going well, or describing some of our hard-won victories.
Happiness is such an ephemeral feeling, hard to put into words. For me, it means a peaceful kind of contentment. Sort of like watching the sun go down over the ocean on a warm September afternoon, sitting next to your best friend, not talking. Just enjoying the moment. That's happy.
Right now I'm relaxing on our well worn green couch, the one we bought second-hand in perfect condition from an old friend/coworker of mine five years ago for the bargain price of $300.00. We got our money out of this thing years and years ago... and since then, it's just been a cosy, comfortable joy.
My husband is seated not far away at the dining room table, working hard on his laptop. It's 9:24pm but that sweet guy is still working - trying to wrap up some code that's been vexing his brain today. I love looking at his profile, such a handsome strong face. He focuses with razor sharp clarity upon the screen, sometimes smiling (when he solves a problem) and other times running his hands through his hair as he grapples with a new dilemma.
His dedication and passion for these esoteric languages inspires me, even though I cannot relate to them at all. It's a beautiful thing to watch someone you love fully engaged in a challenge that fulfills them at a deep level. My husband soaks up the complexities inherent in his work with intensity and vigor. It's super attractive.
Our three children are currently "falling asleep" (ha ha ha) in three different rooms nearby. They always end up in the same room that they share, but for the purpose of falling asleep they need to be separated. So, they've gone to bed.
What does this actually mean?
From each room we are listening to a different set of sounds. Our younger son is 'reading' Green Eggs and Ham in the doorway of one bedroom. "You may like them, you will see," he recites from memory. "You may like them in a tree!" He uses a slow, syncopated voice as though he is actually decoding the words, which of course are coming from his memory and imagination. Every so often, he giggles.
One bedroom over, his elder brother is trying to puzzle out real words. "What does J-o-h-n spell?" he calls out. "Ja - aw - huh - n"... Silence for a moment. Then, "Mom, what time is it?"
"It's 2:30 in the morning, honey."
"WHAT?" the six year old comes running out of his room. "It's 2:30?"
"Yeah, you're going to be SO tired in the morning when we wake you up in 3 hours," I smile.
"WHAT?"
He checks the clock in the main room and starts to laugh. "MOM! You tricked me!!! It's only 9:38pm!"
"Yeah, but that's really late honey," we both respond. "You need to get some sleep or you really WILL be that tired in the morning."
"Daddy!" calls out his little brother, joining the conversation.
"Daddy! You have to go to bed at Butt-Butt time."
(Have I mentioned that recently *everything* with our little guy talks about winds up linked to rear ends?)
My husband and I are trying not to laugh out loud, but it's hard. We're in a great mood, and his four year old comment strikes us both as pretty darn funny. We exchange a long glance, as our mouths open in silent laughter and we tacitly agree that our children crack us up.
The baby girl has at last succumbed to sleep, but not without jumping on her bed, tucking in her dolls, ripping up a book, telling herself a story, and crying briefly when we at last turned off her light and shut the door. She's now curled up with a bear in her big brother's bed, tousled curls flung across her pillow. She manages to be so fierce and innocent at the same time. Just peeking in on her as she sleeps makes me smile.
These are the moments - the moments that are least emotionally charged but most Real. These are the moments of our life. Traumas and tantrums alone do not make a family; major upheavals and challenges are not what keep us together.
No... what MAKE us, what unite us in a sort of magical and forever sort of way are the balmy summertime evenings when everything is just plain okay in our world. Good, even. We're contented. Our evening feels steady, comfortable, cheerful and warm.
These are the quiet, unobtrusive moments that bind us together - an invisible glue hard to quantify in words.
Tonight the five of us ~ a family ~ are connected by an invisible web which threads from room to room, from heart to heart.
This is love. This is happiness.
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