Crazy Happy

Oh dear.  I'm singing! pbft

You know?  Sissy being in the EBD class finally has made an incredible difference in our home life and peace of mind.  Oh how happy we are!  Darn, that girl just screams and wails and tells me all about her woes and ... gosh, that child is never happy with anything or anyone at anytime.  Me?

I just smile and laugh and giggle and sing and say "PICKLES!" and I talk in my pseudo English accent as my alter ego, Petty Dodds.  No matter what I do, that girl is going to be mad so why should I be mad?

I'm not.

In fact, quite the opposite, I'm feeling sing-songish!

Good gravy, singing used to be the one thing that got me through a hard day.  Once upon a time I was quite the songbird.  It's hard to sing when you're unhappy, scared, in pain and burdened beyond belief.  *big cheshire cat grin*  I'm singing.

Ergo, I'm HAPPY!  Can that actually be true?  I keep shaking my head.  Happy?  Me?!  My family NOT in crisis?  Sissy finally in the correct educational environment?  What?  How did we get to this beautiful, glorious spot in our life?

I think I'm going to lose my head.  I keep trying to be sensible and serious and stern and stoic and... I CAN'T!

Maybe it's the weather.  Yeah. That's it. I love fall.  And I'll be having a birthday soon and going on my annual quilt retreat with the kids' grandma and all the fantastic other gals I love to hug and hang with (ladies, let me tell you, if you're filled with angst, spend your free time with a room of old broads.  It will fix that gloom in a skinny minute.)

I think it's because I'm listening to Adele. 

I want to go apple picking!  How fun is THAT?!  And camping.  And running through the leaves (wait, we have pine needles here - alas).  I want to watch Monty Python until i pee myself laughing.  I want other people to laugh as though I'm throwing them a cup full of my happiness and it's splashing all over them, soaking them with suds of love and joy.

Joy.  What a great word.  I always hoped to have five children and I had long ago decided that I wanted a daughter named Joy.  Who can be unhappy when they're saying "JOY!" all the time?  *snickers*

I keep trying to figure it out - what cause do I have to be so gosh darned happy and carefree and there's no figuring it.  I'm just happy.  Happy because it was so damn hard and hellatious and OMG-wouldn't-wish-this-on-my-enemy and I survived.  We survived.  And we're better for it.

Relief.  Sweet, precious, amazing relief.  I'm alive.  And my life is MINE.

So in this moment, I have a head clouded with glee and bliss and relief and hope and yes, songs and even a few dreams.  I still wake up from nightmares about the roads I've passed through.  I still have to put on the burden of being single-mom to three kids, two with disabilities.  I still listen to Sissy scream and tantrum and disobey and disrespect.  I just do it all with a smile.  I'm crazy happy.