It’s time I take a step back into the 1950’s.

Now, don’t worry, I’m not going to start putting on lipstick before Paul walks in the door or making Jell-O with hot dogs in it; I just need to light a fire under my housework-lazy butt.

Back in the 50’s, houses were clean (obviously, I’m playing towards a big generalized stereotype here, but just roll with me, okay?) and dinner was on the home-stretch by the time the Bacon-winner got home. Why? Because most of the time, there was a wife home all day making sure things got taken care of. I think I’m pretty lucky to be one of those home-all-day wives, and I think I need to start showing a little more gratitude for that fact.

I’m not knocking anybody’s choice of profession here; I think stay-at-home parents and working parents are on an equal plane. Both types are concerned about their children’s welfare and are addressing the issue in the best ways they can. What I’m saying is that lately I haven’t been working very diligently at the housework part of my particular career choice.

Isn’t it so much easier to sit and judge Go Diego Go (“Everybody scream! LOUDER!”) than to pick up the living room while Charlie dances to the music? Well, sure it is, but it isn’t a very grateful way to go about it. If I’m truly grateful for the walls around me, then shouldn’t I be taking better care of them? Okay, so I’ve got no plans to start actually scrubbing the walls, but I can definitely start being more active in caring for my home.

What’s with all this gratitude mumbo-jumbo, you ask?

Well, I’ll tell you. I’m launching a vendetta against discontent.

I’ve always been a pretty positive person, but I think I could be much more optimistically effective if I focus my efforts. This is part of it. If we can all keep in mind how much awesomeness we already have in our lives, we can start being happier with where we are.

In this particular instance, I had to take a good, hard look at what I was unsatisfied with, and think, “How can I make this so it makes me happy?”

Well, duh. Clean it, maybe?

So it’s time to throw on a mu mu and a string of pearls. The yellow rubber gloves are on and I’m going to do my best to keep this up, because guess what happens when the house is clean and supper is cooking by the time Paul gets home? The time that would have been spent washing dishes or picking up the living room is now used as time to relax with my family.

That’s a pretty big deal.

Friends, I’m asking you to join me! Instead of worrying about what we don’t have, let’s learn to find happiness in what we’ve got, and if we don’t like what we’ve got, let’s find ways to change them into what we want. If that means going all 50’s-style on your own bootay, then so be it.

I hope I haven’t annoyed the crap out of everyone with my goody-two-shoes hippie-juju. Remember, I warned you; I’m irritatingly optimistic.