Trying to love it enough

I've been working on not complaining, so when I think of a complaint I have two ways of checking myself, one by asking: is it a complaint or is it a factual statement? Sometimes the line between the two isn't very clear. The second way is by telling myself: don't complain if you aren't going to ask for help. If you need help, speak up; otherwise, shut up.
So far, I think it works most of the time.
So here's a factual statement: I feel run-down. Tired. Back to those feelings again, the usual doubting of self-worth, loneliness, lack of identity, and the sense of being stuck, trapped. All normal parts of the job of stay-at-home-motherhood and housewifery. So let's get it out of the way: Yes, what I do is important, immeasurably so. Yes, sometimes I'm going to feel lonely, even (at times especially) when I'm with my kids, but it will pass. Yes, it's hard to feel so one-dimensional, but in real life, I am more than a mother and chore-doer, and there will be times that I get to play the role of woman, wife, friend, person-without-a-kid-attached-to-her-all-the-time, and the rarity of those moments makes them all the more valuable. No, I am not trapped, even though it feels that way, and one day my baby will be weaned and I'll miss our closeness; one day my big kid will be in school every day and I'll miss playing with her. Besides, I chose this life!
I'm not dismissing my feelings or trying to justify anything to make the less-than-pleasant more palatable. I know what I signed up for, and it's no picnic (except when we go on one), but it's oh so very far from the worst place I could be. The other day, somebody posed a general question: "Do you love your job? If so, what is it?" And my answer is a resounding YES! It's hard, wonderful work, and though I am not carpe-ing every diem (or every minute, or second), I love what I do, if nothing else, because Ellie says things like "I can't sleep with my panties in my gluteus maximus!" and because Katie makes adorable smiles that make her look like Dopey the dwarf... and because I am able to witness it all and even roll around in it if I just surrender to the moment, stop complaining about the little things, and let myself.
Yesterday I found a third way of keeping myself from complaining. It came from the Facebook status of one of my former students:

Dear God, thank you for this beautiful life and forgive me if I don't love it enough.

AMEN! I think I'll be praying this little prayer every time I feel a whine coming on. What a great perspective, asking forgiveness for all those times when I act like what God has given me isn't good enough. All of it is good, even the dirty dishes and diapers, the tantrums and the silent treatment. After all, I get the feeling that if I didn't have those things, I'd find something else to try to not complain about... like their absence.