Baggage Claim

A couple of months ago I mentioned I took up the #100happydays challenge. Do not be dismayed. I haven’t mentioned it since, but that doesn’t mean I have given up or ended the challenge. In fact, yesterday was day number 76. And I have posted every day (with the exception of one day, but I posted it immediately the next day) on my personal Facebook page.

Yesterday I posted my #Day76 happy thing with a wee disclaimer that said I would better explain it with a blog post. This is it.

The challenge was to find something to be happy about each and every day. For 100 consecutive days. Easy enough. But I have found a more valuable lesson to be learned in all of this. Sure. Be happy, find the things that make you happy. That’s great. But I have found a greater appreciation for the little things. Me. The one who thought I’m the queen of appreciating the small things in life actually found smaller, simpler things to appreciate into a bit of happiness. Perhaps, I will create a new section dedicated to my 100 day long challenge. Perhaps, I won’t just stop there…

My postings have been on my personal Facebook page because they are often paired with equally happy-ish photos. Most commonly of my wee one because I would be really reaching to find something that brings me similar happiness. And I do not share those photos with anyone but my small group of friends and family. That is why I have not posted them here, but as I type this I realize those bits of goodness might better connect me with all of you. For that reason alone they are worthy of posting.

A Typical Day

Tuesday was a day of the norm. School for the wee one. Work for Big Joe. Home (and so work) for me. Once everyone reconvened at the end of the day, the usual shenanigans ensued. Said shenanigans usually involve ridiculous amounts of laughter, excellent music and endless dancing.

During one of his earlier television breaks (we closely monitor how much and what he watches, that’s our preference, as he has to earn television time) my little guy saw an advertisement for a special kid’s day out. A concert put on by that particular children’s channel with performances from a variety of known performers. At a big outdoor theatre. In our old stomping grounds. Dancing around apparently shook that banked knowledge loose and before long the dancing had stopped and I was perched before the laptop looking for more information. Information: found. Monetary requirements: absurd. Conclusion: we’re not going. And here come the water works…

I would like to point out that I can count the times my child has had a tantrum. That number is three. This was not a tantrum. But there were a few tears, a protruding bottom lip and some “this is so incredibly unfair” sniffles. My solution? Go looking for another show or concert to satiate his need for a live performance.

During this second search it emerged from the mouth of my babe that what he really desired was to see one group in particular. Please not The Wiggles, please not The Wiggles. There was one performance I worried was the big draw for the above mentioned “day out” for my little one. And. It. Is. The. Wiggles. ARGH!! No offense to The Wiggles or my little one but I would just as soon pluck out my arm hairs one at a time than sit through that. Alas. The things we do for love. The things we do for our kids.

So. A third search uncovered their return for a performance next month. In our current city. Local: yes. Tickets: available. Price: not unreasonable. Conclusion: we’re going. Just the two of us. Hubby is going to give it a miss (lucky!) because of work commitments. And while he may tell you, if you ask him, he is sad to not be going there is a look in his eye that I know means something entirely different. Asshole!

Perhaps he celebrated too soon…

Silent Laughter

We tell the darling wee one that he and Mommy will venture out to a night-time concert, on a school night.  One month from now. He begins dancing wildly. All over the kitchen. I grab my cell phone/family camera with the hope of snapping a fantastic picture. This will make an excellent post for my #100happydays, look how happy he is? Hubby glances over. I assume to smile in agreement. Or with love or something…

The wee one’s arms are just flailing with joy and…

SLAP!

The connection made an actual sound. Over joyed by the announcement, possessed by the celebration and just plain not paying attention equals a bagging.

OH FUCK!! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!!

Hubby is doubled over. The little one’s hands are over his face. There are muffled I’m sorry Daddy sounds seeping through. And I am stood over my husband, rubbing his back.  But I am silent. Laughing so incredibly hard that I make no sound. At. All.

Fuck me. OHHHHH.

So there we all are. Stopped in the doorway between kitchen and dining room. Big Joe is on all fours. Trying to manage some breathing in between the oh fucks. The little guy asking if Daddy wants to go lay on the couch. I don’t think so honey, I think Daddy is doing what feels best for him. I had actually managed some words of concern before that too, but the laughter was quite consuming. Still on all fours, hubby’s breathing is not as laboured. But he now has the dog sniffing his ass…

FUCK OFF Toby!!

And I start laughing all the more. Especially when the little guy mistakes the origin of my laughter. Thinking the ass sniffing dog is why, he then says I want to do that too. And now I can no longer contain it. So I banish the dog and the kid to the back room.

Urine for it!

Hubby was down for a good 15 minutes or so. Claimed it was the worst bagging of his life. Not to forget to mention, the wee one clipped him (again, accidentally) just a couple of weeks ago. I felt bad, but it was so GD funny I could not help myself.

The wee one reappeared just as Big Joe was finding his legs again. He had a hundred different ways to make Daddy feel better. They included going outside to look for a super harvest moon that wasn’t there (it had happened the previous night and the little guy was not grasping the it already happened concept), looking for Bumblebee the Transformer (a few nights ago someone had parked a replica in front of our house – it even had the same air freshener hung from the review mirror and an Autobot symbol by the wheel well), basically anything that would get him out on the porch thus delaying bed time. Sneaky.

Things settled down a little. Hubby seems recovered enough.  And emerges from the kitchen with a bag of sunflower seeds in tow. Then he announces that his nether area is quite swollen and possible purple. Spilling seeds all over the floor gets him the raised eyebrow look from me. To which he responds, oh come on! I just got a fist to my bag. Why is it that every time everyone is happy I get bagged? And that did it. Between the earlier events and that sad Sadie comment I peed my pants from all the laughter. I cannot even be totally sure at what point it happened. But it did.

And that, explains why my Facebook post for yesterday read:

I peed. My pants. Laughing.
#100happydays #Day76

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