Outnumbered Two to One

I am not by nature a happy-go-lucky kind of person. I’ve never been described as chipper, or upbeat, or cheerful, or bubbly. Think instead words like cynical, sarcastic, negative, and morose. Think dark and occasionally demented. Most of that, I admit, is somewhat subdued, being that I’m a mom and I try not to frighten my children on a regular basis. But with my tween skirting depression, I’ve felt the need to compensate a bit. So today, I turned the happy up…LOUD.

It took some effort. I led some aerobics for my girls, baked cookies, held a movie screening in the living room for “Spiderwick Chronicles”, which we really enjoyed, complete with movie candy and buttered popcorn. 

I didn’t scowl once. I didn’t scold. I smiled. A lot.  I was on, really. Telling then retelling stories where I either fell, or was chased by dogs, or had to get stitches, complete with exagerrated facial expressions and physical gestures.  

It wasn’t easy for me. I love having fun with my kids and I love making them laugh, but sadness is contagious and having to single handedly lift that cloud that’s recently settled on our home is hard, particularly when financial strains and other factors have the adult part of my brain in pretzel knots.

Secretly I’ve been wanting to curl up into the fetal position all day long. Funny thing about pretending to be happy though, when everyone’s laughing it stops being an act.

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