Today we were supposed to do something. Not just sit around the house all day, me watching tv, while the boys played Call of Duty. We got up early (ok, 8am), I made a huge breakfast. By 10am we were all showered and ready to go.
"To the mall", Adam says. "No," I say, "David hates the mall". "Sledding" Adam says. "No," I say, "it's too cold". By noon I had searched the internet for "things to do in NY", the boys had gone through my High School year book and we still had no destination.
David fell asleep on the couch. I went up stairs, feeling utterly defeated, as it was yet again another nothing day, with nothing to do. I slept for 3 hours. The boys played Call of Duty.
And here I am, trying to convince myself that it is only truly ourselves that make ourself happy. Yet I am still choosing to be unhappy.
My husband is trying to make me happy, trying to rub my back, and suggest we go for a walk. My husband is wonderful. When I asked him this morning what he wanted to do, he said, "whatever makes you happy." And not in the sarcastic kind of I hate that you're making me do something way, he really meant it. I believe that he means to do whatever he can to make me happy. I don't know how to repay him for this. I don't know how to stop sulking in my room, lying under the covers with the lights off at 4:40 in the afternoon. I don't know how to pick myself up off the floor and make myself happy. California Dreaming is running through my head.
I hate this place. The snow. The cold. The 4 long months of nothing to do but stay indoors. I hate that I have no friends here. I hate how guilty I feel for hating all of this, when my husband tries so hard to make it the best.
So time to stop sulking. Time to pick myself up off the floor. Time to make dinner.