Happy (but not -go-lucky)

I repeat it often, to many different people, on forums, in real life, on my blogs. I declare it. I shouldn't have to, but I do.

Life is not hard. We are not in need of respite.

Instead.

Life is good. We are happy. Even overjoyed since we clearly lucked out in the family-department. There's more than plenty of love, and there's happiness up the whatchamacallit (to put it poetically). I look forward to getting up every single morning and gladly put my dripping wet hair up on a ponytail while simultaneously snorting up and gulping down my coffee. This life we're leading is what I want. What I wanted.

I'm content.

I'm complete.

And it's all true. It's not rainbows and unicorns - the problem with unicorns being that they are completely fictitious - it's just a fact.

Yes, Babe's health right now could be better, but she's not dying, so why worry? We're managing the situation (hence the oxygen tank completing our bedroom decor) and keeping an eye on it (thus the frequent blood tests for nearly veinless [doctor's words] Babe), and just loving our baby who is learning something new all the time and making us fall more and more in love with her and each other (it can be done, even after 10 years of marriage) every single day. Every single minute and second even.

This is where I want to be. Right here. Right now.

In the sun. With my daughter in my arms. Staring at a kid who either tried to kill us or show off to Babe by nearly crashing his bike into us. The Viking capturing the moment.

I hope you're as lucky as me.

Except for the knees, you understand.