There is a Happiness Maximum in my family. This means that at any given moment the available happiness is divided, often unequally, amongst the six of us. The parameters of the equation make it all but impossible for each of us to be feeling entirely happy at the same time. This explains the Bad Mood Principle which accounts for the fact that no matter how much fun we are having, one person will always be flirting with, if not entirely subsumed by, a bad mood.
Allow me to illustrate. My children love to play mini-golf. They talk about it constantly and are forever planning their next mini-golf excursion. So it figures that when the glorious day for mini-golf arrives everyone is in great moods. Wrong. In their excitement the kids usurp all the available happiness, thus achieving the Maximum and triggering the Bad Mood Principle which is the only logical explanation for why I hate mini-golf with such a passion. I should be happy – my kids are thrilled, we’re doing something together, things around us our glowing in the dark. What could be bad? But I sulk my way through 18 holes, cringing at how close clubs come to heads, and wondering why we just can’t make the hole bigger to speed things along. Curse you, Happiness Maximum.
The theory holds true for vacations. This summer we planned the perfect, kid friendly trip to New York City. It was going swimmingly until we got in line for the Empire State Building observation tower. We hit the Happiness Maximum like a brick wall, causing one child to melt down so thoroughly that I surveyed the rest of the line, saw that we were the only English speakers, and then threatened to throw him off the top of the building. It wasn’t my fault, the Bad Mood Principle made me do it.
It is very pessimistic to go through life knowing that happy occasions are so limited. But it also helps me to regulate my expectations and be realistic about what to anticipate from my children in even the most ideal situations. The new toy will blow their minds, but it will also cause a fight. That’s ok, that’s just how it is. A fantastic family outing will inevitably hit a low when I realize I forgot the snacks. (It will only get worse from there when I try really hard to make it my husband’s fault.) That’s ok, too, most of the day was still fun. (And at some point later on I will figure out something that really was his fault, blame him for that, be justified in my original anger, and voila – instant good mood!)
Recognizing and respecting the Happiness Maximum and Bad Mood Principle also makes me extraordinarily grateful for the times when, for no discernible reason, these constants let you off the hook. Like that morning bike/stroller ride though the park earlier this fall that had all of us feeling boundlessly happy at the same time. I felt so fit and wholesome, ready to pose for a picture on the grape nuts box. But grape nuts taste like gravel. Who am I kidding, we’re obviously a cocoa krispies type of family.
Making smores in our fireplace also has the ability to ward off the happiness and mood goons. The children wielding sticks should give me traumatic flashbacks of mini-golf (where one of the sadistic obstacles involves an open flame). But advanced calculations reveal that it is statistically impossible to be unhappy while eating something gooey. Maximum exceeded – good moods all around!
My point is that it is sometimes plain impossible to make everybody happy. Man plans, God laughs. I plan, I forget the snacks, I cry (I blame my husband, I feel better). And the rest of my point should be something wise and clichéd about how we should just ride out the bad and concentrate on what goes well, but I’m suddenly distracted by the need to eat smores. Ooh, or maybe coca krispies.
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