So here's something I never say out loud--and I'm not sure why. Perhaps because nobody wants to hear it. Or maybe because I'm too busy sweating the small stuff. But here it is. . .

I have an amazing life. It's not perfect. And it's not interesting by any standard, but it's sweet. I have a good, smart, and loyal husband who puts up with an almost unspeakable amount of my shit. Every day. I bitch at him. I complain about everything. I'm annoyed by something ridiculous a good 75 percent of the time. But that's all the surface stuff. I don't tell him nearly enough (well, ever) how much I love and appreciate him. But it's true.

I have two amazing daughters who are beauty, and joy, and everything else that is good. They amaze me daily with their generosity, creativity, their intellect, and the fact that they are complete little people. And very different little people at that. They both drive me nuts in very different ways, but I'm so glad they're mine.

I've been very lucky to be able to manage my career so that I get to do work I enjoy pretty much when I want to do it, and I get to be around for my kids. It's a complicated bitch to organize sometimes, but a luxury that very few people enjoy.

So why do I usually feel like it should be better? Like *I* should be better. At all of it: wife, mother, daughter, friend, individual? Why do I feel like I should be doing more? Why do I continue to moan and complain when I am clearly one of the luckiest people alive?

Answer me that, smart people!