A couple weeks ago, I’d had a crummy day and was complaining to Owen about it. Jack (who is 2) was in earshot, and during a gasp-for-more-breath break on my part, he looked knowingly at Owen and said matter-of-factly, “Oh. Mommy fussy.” Of course, it threw me off track from my venting. After I got over how cute and funny it was that he said that, it actually taught me a lesson. And I’ve been ruminating over it ever since...
I know that I complain too much, but I don’t keep myself in check as well as I should because, frankly, sometimes I feel ENTITLED to be grumpy about my sub-par circumstances or the various annoyances I must endure from day to day. To be honest, though, it’s not making me any happier to complain about it, nor anyone else, and what is it teaching my kids? Is it okay for Mommy to fuss and whine even though it isn’t okay for them? No. It’s not.
After thinking about it more, I realized it's sad that I, or anyone, should ever feel entitled to be grumpy and unhappy. Who wants to be that way anyway? It's no fun! And why, oh why, hold on to the terrible feeling as if it's an inalienable right? The cause of the feeling is enough badness to endure, without prolonging it by way of grumpy attitude. Of course, this is a basic concept that even a 2-year-old can understand.
After thinking about it more, I realized it's sad that I, or anyone, should ever feel entitled to be grumpy and unhappy. Who wants to be that way anyway? It's no fun! And why, oh why, hold on to the terrible feeling as if it's an inalienable right? The cause of the feeling is enough badness to endure, without prolonging it by way of grumpy attitude. Of course, this is a basic concept that even a 2-year-old can understand.
