When I mentioned to my Boy that I felt Red Foreman from That 70's Show was the ideal spouse and father, he told me that I had finally slipped over the deep edge.
"No, wait," I protested. "Hear me out."
"Alright....."
"He's gruff, yes. He's unsentimental, uses the word "dumbass" a lot, and is authoritarian. BUT."
"Go on."
"He's a real father. A real husband. When the shit hits in any serious situation, he handles it. He supports his wife and shows his love for her in real ways. He backs her up in front of the children. There's not a lot of glamour or glitz about him, but he supports the family, pays the bills, and doesn't bitch about the stuff of life that is an underlaying reality for all families."

The rent still has to be paid. Cars need to run. Food needs to be in the house. We may never be rich, and we may never have disposable income, but our needs in this family are met. The other day I said to the Boy that I was tired of being poor. He looked back at me oddly and said, "but we aren't poor. I remember poor. We're making things meet and have a little extra for the planned indulgences."

So there. How's that for a slap of reality? The ends are meeting. We may not have a load of extras to afford trips to legoland or the zoo every weekend, or go out to eat all the time. We do have everything we need. Nobody calls us for collections. We can hold our heads up in the leasing office because we've never bounced a check or been late by a day. In an economy where so many people are still living check to check and can't quite manage that- I can know I'm doing something right.

Now I'm off to tidy up my nursey/bear pit. Again. The Toddler Wakes. She must be placated. At least for a little while.