Life is crazy good.
My birthday was on Saturday. I slept in both days this weekend. My husband got up, made pancakes and eggs, brought me my smoothie, let me read and scroll social media.
On Saturday morning he brought me an amazing card and placed it on the bedside table next to me.
The kids laughed and played together. They each came in to wish me a happy birthday.
For my birthday I wanted two things… a new pair of cozy sweatpants and a new computer.
I got both.
The sweatpants are so soft I may wear them every day for the rest of my life. (No, seriously, I work from home. I honestly might do that.)
The computer is like a rocket ship. I think it may blast off from my desk into outer space. I don’t really know how to use it yet, but I’m having fun trying.
I sat in front of a warm fire at my desk while I worked to set it up on Sunday. In my new sweatpants.
I am chasing my dreams, and living life at a level I never imagined was possible for me. I have to pinch myself sometimes to make sure it’s real.
We are redesigning the entire exterior of our house – new roof, window trim, gutters, paint. Out with the old mint-green and in with something crisp and tidy, just the way I like it. And best of all, insurance is paying for it!
My kids are healthy and active. My husband adores me and treats me far better than I deserve.
I am healthy, emotionally and physically, for the first time in… Ever.
My friends are caring, hardworking, funny, amazing women who inspire me to be a better person every day.
This, ladies and gentlemen, is luxury. This laughter. This creative freedom. This love. This life.
The fresh vegetables in my fridge. The filtered water in my glass. The piano near the fireplace in our cozy den. The overflow of toys in my younger son’s room. The smartphone that is soon to be in my older son’s pocket.
Let me say it again for those in the back…
This. Is. Luxury.
Let me say it again, for myself. Because I complain…
I just turned 43.
My house is constantly a mess.
My husband works long hours. His job is physically demanding, dangerous, and sometimes it takes him away for weeks at a time.
My oldest child just turned 13. Read that again. Teenager. It is everything everyone says it is.
We just moved into a bigger house two and a half years ago and already it feels like we are outgrowing it.
I’m starting a business, which means lots of money going out, and hardly any coming in. It also explains why my house is always a mess. There is simply not enough time.
Winter is coming. I can – literally – feel it in my bones. My body hurts.
A freak late-summer storm destroyed the exterior of our house. My husband and I don’t have time to deal with insurance claims and contractors. How will we get it all done before winter arrives?
My kids are both in sports and activities. It costs a fortune in registration fees, gas, and time. Yet they want to do more. My youngest wants piano lessons. My oldest wants to play travel soccer.
How are we going to do all of this? How does anyone do all of this?
And none of it matters. We’ll figure it out. We always do. Somehow there’s always enough time. Enough money. And certainly enough stuff.
So why do I complain? Because I have the luxury to so.
Copyright © 2019 Sara Beth Wald