Can you Tell Me How to Get To Sesame Street?

If I had to create a bumper sticker that modeled my philosophy for life, it would be "can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street?"

Stupid, I know. I'm a mom, sue me. But, the thing is, everyone on Sesame Street is happy all the time. Even if they fight, cry, feel scared, are unsure of themselves - someone is always there to help them figure it out or make them feel better.

Everybody has a place to live. Apartments are just as good as trash cans.

Everybody eats food - and it's healthy but yummy so nobody is fat. And even if they are a little fat, it's okay because people accept each other for who they are.

Families are diverse. It doesn't matter if you live with your mom, your gradma, am adopted parent, a monster, or a snuffleupagus, you have a family that loves you.

Color isn't an issue. Red monsters befriend orange monsters. Ethnicity isn't an issue. Grouches rommate with worms. Money isn't an issue. The only reason anyone talks about it is to learn to count, otherwise, everything is free.

On top of everything else, there is learning. The best learning takes place via singing and dancing. Even the haters end up enjoying their education because something new is always being presented in a manner which makes everyone ecstatic.

On days when I'm really angry, and many of those times it might be about nothing at all or something so unjustified it's embarrasing, I remind myself that there are places and people in the world that find the best in life. They sing and dance and love each other. They eat, drink, be merry. They live, laugh, love. Call it whatever you wish but the truth is that life is too short for us to be anything but content. If you don't like something about your life, well then go out and change it!

"Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street" is a call for action. It's a request that you find the silver lining in every cloud and face every situation with a smile. Such a simple message, such a hard thing to do.

At some point today, when my 2-year old has hit me in the face and told me "stop it mommy" for the tenth time, when my husband has opened a string cheese and left the wrapper on the counter because that's where he thinks trash goes, when my mother has called me to tell me that if I take my kid to McDonald's one more time I'm going to hell, I'll take a deep breath and remember that everything on Sesame Street is wonderful. And it can be in my house too, if I let it.