My husband is happier than me. And no, it’s not because he’s married to such an amazing wife. It’s because of one simple thing—he always expects the worst.
I on the other hand, always get my hopes up. I can’t tell you the number of times I would be rocking my daughter or son to sleep and be thinking, “This is the night the baby will sleep all night and I will wake in a panic in the morning, run into the nursery and find a peacefully sleeping baby.” Which never happens. Or the number of times I think to myself, “Today my son will sit and play on the floor for 30 minutes and let me get something done.” And he never does.
I’m setting myself up for failure.
My husband on the other hand probably doesn’t expect my daughter to actually put herself to sleep until she’s 32, and he figures that my son will need to be carried constantly until he’s 14. And when the unexpected happens, he’s elated.
I’ve got to work on my pessimism. I think it will make me happier.