A friend called me Eeyore last week.  Apparently I’ve been doing a lot of whining lately.  It brought me up short, since I’m usually a “glass half full” girl.

I realized I probably have been whining a lot. A habit I do not want to encourage.  I also realized that while some people appear to have lives that look perfect from the outside in, a good chunk of them are just trying to get by, like us.

If our biggest problems are the guy talking on his cell phone on the bus, or finding the other person left the gas tank empty, or our favorite shirt is still in the washer or the dishes are piled as high as my head, I think we’ll survive. Or even a day like today when I have to call the vet because Jack’s hot spot suddenly seems bigger, not better, and we’ll find out if the transmission code for the car means a new transmission, and take care of some business BS with the state, I will try to muddle through sans whining.

Because I will remember that my teenaged daughter still wants me to braid her hair and my opinions on make-up (ironic) and that she wrote her Dad a really great letter for Father’s Day. I will remember that my 10-year-old son still wants to hold my hand. I managed to make a really tasty cake even though I was missing several crucial ingredients.  My tomatoes have blooms (though let’s be honest – this summer, may never get fruit). I will walk up to my little house from the bus and get happy when I see the color of it and our yard full of flowers (and miscellaneous junk).  I will call the vet and take care of Jack, the car is still under warranty (I hope), and the state, well, that is what it is.

We will do it with the best friends in the world from college and school and the bar.  One of my oldest friends, Jay, has started a little project he calls “Barnraisers”.  A group of us who will gather from time to time to help each other out.  We had our inaugural dinner Saturday night.  Even if we never do a project, having dinners like that will go a long way to preserving our mental health – surrounded by friends old and new, listening to Jay wax poetic about our histories (not sure how truthful all his stories are, since I know the ones about me are slightly, ahem, embellished) . It makes me warm and fuzzy – these people, some of whom barely know us, would answer the call if we needed real help.

Because our lives are not perfect, none of them.  And we can’t do it alone.

I will remember these things. And be grateful. Every single day, grateful.