It was a snow day! The kids were home, and we had some fun. In the morning, the snow was fresh and new, and the kids weren’t soaked and tired yet. I was inside by the fire, cuddling in a sweater and nibbling a homemade cookie. Water for cocoa warmed on the stove.

Two of our dogs lay at my feet, and the puppy was outside with the kids. She’s about 70 pounds now and wasn’t cooperating with the kids’ plans for her to ride the sled down. She does enjoy chasing them, though.

That day, I felt content. Doesn’t happen very often; there’s always something to worry about, a problem to work through, needs to be met, or some place to be.  My kitchen floor was clean for a few minutes, until the kids and their wet clothing came inside. I just sat there and enjoyed it, as I enjoyed the happy noises I heard outside.

One day over Christmas, I watched the classic 1945 movie “Christmas in Connecticut” (Barbara Stanwyck), twice in a row.  Well, I didn’t really watch it; I’ve seen it so many times, all I have to do is listen to know what’s happening on the screen.

Have you seen the movie?  It’s about Elizabeth Lane, a woman who writes a homemaking column, letting her readers think that she lives on a beautiful farm in Connecticut with her husband and family, where she cooks amazing meals, spins wool, and milks her cow, Methuselah. In reality, she’s single, lives in the city, and can’t cook.

I sometimes feel like Elizabeth Lane, just a little.  I love writing about my family in our little house in the big woods in Kingston – big snowy woods lately.  For the most part, my life is just what I would want it to be.

However, I feel a little guilty sometimes. Do I pick out the best parts of my life and present it like it’s all that way? Kind of like those Christmas letters you sometimes get, telling all about perfect kids with perfect grades who are involved in every extracurricular activity possible; promotions at work, fabulous vacations, all that sort of stuff. I would hate to have someone read my column and think that my life must be perfect or better than theirs.

So here’s a little Roundy reality, because I want you to feel good about yourself.

Right at this moment, my bathrooms are in serious need of deep cleaning. If you came to my house and asked to use the bathroom, I’d have to say no.  I have two closets that are such a mess, I can’t close the doors. This is inconvenient, as they are both in hallways and we have to step around the open doors.

I’m out of vegetables, and I don’t care.

Also, I have a pile of laundry to fold that is taller than two of my children, and my youngest is 8. Yeah.

Fabulous vacations we have planned for the year:  Did I mention the kids are outside playing in the snow?  The happy sounds of my children playing right now:  This just tells me that no one has taken a snowball to the face so far.

And yet, I am content.  Why not? If I waited until everything was just the way I want it in order to feel happy, I’d never get there.  It becomes quieter outside. The kids got bored with our little hills and went to check out the neighbors’.  (Aren’t you glad we’re not your neighbors?) The puppy lies exhausted at my feet, and our beer-fetching older dog gallivants out with the children.

Life is good.

— Denise Roundy writes Roundabout for the Kingston Community News. Contact her at dirkroundy@yahoo.com.