The not-so-empirical results of my very grateful day.

           Two days ago I decided that for a full twenty-four hours I was going to refrain from any and all complaining to focus on the many positives in my life.  I knew it would be a challenge, especially after looking over my Facebook statuses for the last few months.  I was shocked by how many of them were complaints.  I really am as whiny as my five-year-old sometimes.  And that’s just not cool.

Here’s how yesterday went down:

            My sweet husband got up with the kids and let me sleep in because I was tossing and turning all night.  I came downstairs and thanked him; he asked me why I couldn’t sleep.  I almost launched into a full-blown explanation detailing that I was too hot, had a nightmare, had to pee, and perhaps had a little too much wine with my friends the night before…But then I remembered I wasn’t allowed to complain.  I just shrugged and said, “Thanks,” again.  I’d only been awake for three minutes and already I was starting in with the grumbling!  I feared it was going to be a long day.

            Then Crews peed in the potty.  Teague got dressed after being told only once.  My husband folded the laundry.  And we got out of the house early. 

Success!  So many things to be thankful for.  I laid on the praise and swore not to lay on the horn.

            I turned off my street and got behind that person who drives 12 in a 45.  But this time, I told myself it was alright.  We left early.  We had plenty of time to get to camp.  I turned up Justin Bieber (I challenge you to listen to Eeeny Meeny and try to stay mad) and sang as loud as I could. 

After a few minutes of some of the slowest driving on the planet (I did notice some lovely flowers I’d never seen before!), my two-year-old started yelling, “Really?  Oh, come on people!”  I cringed knowing those words were my own, but tried to throw a positive spin on it: He’s speaking in full sentences!

            After dropping Teague off at camp (Still two minutes early!  Yay!) I went to Target to pick up Green Lantern and Phineas and Ferb PJs.  As soon as we got to the back of the store, Crews pooped his pants.  I told myself it wasn’t a big deal (At least he wasn’t wearing underwear) and after a quick trip back to the front, continued with the shopping experience (I have the money to buy the special PJs my kids request!  So thankful).

            I texted a few friends who were having a rough week.  I talked to a few more just to make sure everything was good in their lives.  Then Kate watched the boys so I could hunker down and "get my writing on" in preparation for the conference in three weeks.  (Grateful translation: I have great friends, the best sitter on the entire planet, and I’m about to go to LA for 6 days with my Mom!)  Not bad, Whit.  Not bad.

The afternoon was peaceful, easy.  Because I was in a room alone and there really isn’t much to complain about when you have two boys, it’s quiet, and no one is asking you for anything (Yippee!).

            But then I was asked about a book I’m reading.  A book I really don’t like but have to read.  It was then that I realized I was kind of cheating.  Although I wasn’t voicing my complaints, I was still having the negative thoughts.  In true psych fashion, I quickly implemented thought-stopping.  In other words, each time I was having an unvoiced whiny moment, I forced myself to think of something super-happy.  Something totally incompatible with the moaning and groaning.  Like Justin Bieber (Yes, I really love his music), the Disney Cruise we are taking in October (So fortunate!), Bora Bora (The most beautiful spot on Earth where I was lucky enough to honeymoon), and an agent finally saying “Yes,” to publishing one of my books (It could happen!).

            By the time my friend Amanda called at 6, I found I was catching myself much earlier in the complaint process.  Determined to finish strong, I actually declared aloud, “I will make it through and I will become a more grateful person.”  Teague and Crews stared at me like I was nuts and asked for dinner (But they did say please!).

            By 8 o’clock, I was completely exhausted.  I couldn’t believe how much energy it required to be persistently thankful.  But I felt really good.  I climbed into bed next to Teague and read four Ms. Spider books before passing out next to one of the two things I am most grateful for: My boys.  At least appreciating what a gift they are isn’t hard.  And the most important thing this simple little experiment taught me is that I really couldn’t be more blessed.

           Now about that 90-year-old man I keep getting behind every morning…