My position on positives, if you want to call it that

I've been trying to focus on the positive lately.

I'm positive the van will get stuck at least once more trying to get out of the snowy driveway this week.

I'm positive the tax bill due by the beginning of next month should have given me a coronary, especially considering the credit card bill was nearly the same amount.

I'm positive my kids think 3:30 a.m. is the most perfect time to hit/kick/slap their way to the coveted spot in my bed.

I'm positive we blew the grocery budget this week, and I'm positively not going to worry about it since we had money left over last week.

I'm positive wine is usually the answer when I get in a writing slump, because I tend to suck down several glasses and write like a beast - usually pounding out 2,000 or more words in a shortish amount of time as I pour the words from my soul desperately into a Word document that someday will resemble a paperback.

And I'm positive the book I'm penning is almost done. This one I'm almost as sure of as getting stuck in the driveway.

I'm also positive that while I'm trying to "be positive," it's hard, because there's a huge difference between being positive of something and being emotionally/psychologically positive. Most people are aware of that difference. So while I try really hard to be emotionally positive, it's not something I usually wake up thinking will happen today. There are still a lot of days I look out the window and it's not the sun I see, but the dirty snowbank and slushy roads. Instead of being proud of my daughters' inquisitiveness and ability to make a mess while learning, playing, and growing, I can't see beyond the clutter.

Adulthood cancelled: Mommy's taking a snow day

There are things from my childhood that will forever be ingrained in my memory.

• Kindergarten graduation and getting picked on for wearing a gingham check print dress (I loved that dress).
• Holding Greg's hand under the table (also in kindergarten) because he was picked on by the same kids.
• Making myself feverish and ill every day I had Physical Education until my dad went to school and fixed the problem - again, with the picking on!
• The sixth grade spelling bee ... and almost winning. I will never forget how to spell pennant. Ever.
• Summers by the pool.
• Winters sledding down Dates' Hill, shoveling the driveway and staying outside until I couldn't feel my toes.

No, not all my memories of growing up in that small town include getting picked on for one thing or another. After all, kids are mean and I'm an adult now. I can look past that. What I can't look past is the fun I had, sometimes with the very children who made fun of that cute little dress and that cute little boy.