Are you happy?

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I sat down with a sandwich (and for the record I know food is often featured in my stories and I’m #notsorry I have the body of a 17th century Victorian goddess who also loves #tacotuesday)

The sandwich was bomb, guys.

The fresh sliced turkey from some fancy deli, and pepper jack cheese and just the right amount of mayo and mustard.  The bread had tiny seeds, also super fancy. 

I was at my mom’s and that place is feast or famine central and as I sat down to take a bite Alana implored me, without notice: “mommy you take me potty?”

My slight annoyance must have been palpable. Hadn’t I taken her potty only moments before? 

And I know I’m a mom and I’m supposed to find trips to the potty to be magical and rewarding but honestly, ya’ll I was hankering for that turkey sandwich and watching “The Intern” on BluRay with my mom. 

As I sighed and stood up quickly, lest my little ángel tinkle in her jeggings, I must have looked less than enthusiastic.

Alana’s face changed to survey mine “mama, are you happy?”

Her quizzical and concerned face melted my own into a smile.

“Yes, baby, mommy’s happy”.

She seemed pleased with my answer.

And in that moment, as we raced to the porcelain Gods  I was entirely happy thanks to her sweet inquiry.

Alana is not much unlike me when it comes to wanting people around us to be happy. 

Wanting people to feel safe, trusted, taken care of, and anything but annoyed or irritated by us.  Our people pleasing comes in handy, at times, and at other times can leave one exhausted and confounded. 

But I recognize and adore Alana’s concern if only sheer curiosity. 

“Are you happy?” She asks me, most days. 

“Is daddy happy?”

“Is Sayler happy?”

She asks with the same concern anytime one of us has negative juju circulating our aura of if we’re bickering over something as minuscule as whose turn it is to wash dishes.

And when our dramatic 7 year old cries loudly (she’s honestly got lungs of an Olympic swimmer), Alana will lean in and assure Sayler with her words, “aaaawwww Sayler don’t be sad”.

I guess if Alana someday reads this what I’d love for her to know is that mommy is happy. 

Not every second of every day, but more seconds and days than if she wasn’t in our lives. 

Alana, are you happy? 
















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