I love my life, so why am I complaining so much?

I am literally living the life I dreamed of for over a decade.  Great kids, great husband, great job, beautiful home.  So what the heck am I complaining about?

“Ugh, my little one woke me up in the middle of the night last night and now I’m exhausted.”

“Do I really have to plan another birthday party? I’d rather plan a sightseeing trip through North Korea.”

“Why is this house such a disaster?  Once I get it cleaned up, you’re all going to have to move out so it stays clean.”

“These pants make me look fat.  Okay, who am I kidding?  It’s my fat that makes me look fat.  I never have time to go to the gym anymore.”

“My kids never listen.  Even my dog doesn’t listen.  Am I speaking a foreign language?  Am I invisible?  They are driving me insane!”

Sometimes I am appalled by my own ingratitude.    

I love my life, but I’m beginning to think that maybe there is just too much of it.  There too many expectations (most of which are self-imposed).  Somehow I have allowed all of the components of my dream life to blend together in an unhealthy balance – like a washing machine loaded with 27 towels all careening to one side and the spin cycle set to “High.” 

I have to find a way to disentangle the knotted mess of 27 towels and rebalance my load, and maybe slow the spin down to a steady medium.

Here’s the problem.  I love my towels.  All 27 of them.  My kids, my husband, my home, my dog, my job, my writing, my workouts, my camera, my cooking, my friends, my craft machine (another blog post for another day), my late-night t.v. watching…Asking me to remove one or more towels from my load, even temporarily, is like asking me to choose my least favorite French fries out of a basket of perfectly crisped and seasoned greasy goodness.  It feels impossible.  What do I give up?  Where do I let go?  Why can’t I just have all of them?

*Now I’m hungry.

I’d love to “let go” of things like grocery shopping, meal planning, cleaning, laundry and bill paying, but without those towels my entire family would pretty much go naked and wet. 

So where do I start?  I think I am going to begin by letting go of those self-imposed expectations.  Perfectly clean house, perfectly ordered schedule, perfectly balanced meals, perfectly well-adjusted and obedient children…there is no perfect when it comes to raising a family.  If you find someone who is doing it all right…don’t trust them.  They are either a liar or an alien.

I will let go of my expectation that I will get through these little years without being tired.  Instead, when my four-year-old comes to my bed at 2:30 in the morning because she had a bad dream, I’ll be thankful for the extra cuddles.  I will remember our ten infertile years, when I slept through the night but found no rest for the longing in my heart.

I will let go of the expectation that I should be planning epic Pinterest-perfect birthday parties.  Instead, I will find meaningful ways to celebrate each passing year with these beautiful souls, in ways that will make them feel loved and honored without making me feel overworked and exhausted.

I will let go of my expectation that our house should remain clean and organized.  I will embrace the fact this is our home – a place where my children play, where our dog cuddles up to me on the couch at night, and where I cook yummy, if messy, meals that we share as a family.  I will allow myself to sometimes choose play time with my kids over checking items off my to-do list.

I will let go of my expectation that my body is going to look the way it did when I was in my thirties, before I had two babies.  Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not about to quit working out or eating healthy. However, I will relinquish the goal of “getting thin” in favor of the lifelong pursuit of wellness, strength and health.  I will remember the two pairs of eyes that are watching my every move and learning what it means to love and care fore their bodies.

I will let go of the expectation that my children will automatically obey me and instinctively respect my authority.  I will remind myself that they are human beings in training, and that molding their spirit without breaking it is an ongoing duty, one I am honored to fulfill.

Next time I find myself falling into that rut of complaining about my life, I’ll know what to do.  I will check my proverbial washer and see if it’s out of balance.  I will tell myself it’s time, at least temporarily, to take one or two of those less important towels out of the washer – the fancy, monogrammed, guest-bath towels (like my time-sucking craft machine or practicing with my fancy camera) – until my life goes back to spinning smoothly once again.