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Hi.

When I became a mom, I searched for a blog that resonated with every part of me: the nerdy kid, the ansty teenage feminist, the wayward 20-something, the ambitious career woman, the writer, the traveler, the wife, and yes, the mother. I couldn’t find that blog, so I wrote it. Welcome.

I fought gratitude...and gratitude won

I fought gratitude...and gratitude won

This is not a cheesy post with me upside down because “it’s all in you perspective”. Really I’m just being lazy and lying on the grass while my toddler slowly destroys our landscaping by moving the rock garden across the yard.

But...it is all in your perspective. I’ve been IN IT the last few days. Busy with things I don’t want to be doing (but need to right now), and overwhelmed by my routine being all out of whack. When I get this way I start feeling sorry for myself, and eventually I start complaining. Usually to my husband because, well, he’s right there.

When I complain, he problem solves, because that’s what men do (sweeping generalization, yes, but true in my experience). Which makes me mad because really I’m perfectly capable of solving my own damn problems. What I needed him to do in this situation was to be quiet and let me talk about how terrible things are right now and how they will never, under any circumstances, ever get better.

So, he did. He let me finish, and then he told me that he feels exactly the same way a lot of the time. Stressed. Burned out. Overwhelmed. I nodded along, like “Yeah, I get it, I feel you.”  Then he started to talk about what he thinks about when he feels that way. Our beautiful child. Our happy marriage. Our health. Our home. Our family. I kept nodding along, because yeah, I get that too--those are all awesome things.

He is a sneaky man, my husband. Without me even noticing, he took my toxic complaining and turned it into a conversation about gratitude. Eventually I caught on, but by then it was too late--I was already feeling better. Vanquished by gratitude...again.

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