Am I happy?

Dale and I still write Christmas lists. Despite being happily married for seven years and a couple four more than that, we still need guidance to give each other what they want. That's a whole other post, trying to please one's spouse. Let's just stick with Christmas lists and happiness for this time around.
In compiling mine, I wonder. What do I need? Not much. What do I want? Lots, but most of it would be on his list too, besides which it would take a winning lottery ticket to provide it instantly. So what else is there?
Which gets me to ruminating, What makes me happy? Would I be happy if I received no gifts this Christmas? What do I want most?
I want my children to have what they need most. They have food, clothing, shelter. Two parents who love and live with them, one of whom sees to their daily needs, like nose wipes and lunches.
I want a happy, healthy husband who knows I love him more than anyone or anything. Sometimes I forget that when my temper flares (you do know I'm Irish, right?), but according to him, that keeps me from being absolutely perfect. No dummy, he.

A while back, my college alumni paper had a bit about another alum who was doing missionary work somewhere, helping native peoples build houses and get potable water. He might have been in the Peace Corps; I don't remember.
Reading that, I started to feel down on myself. What was *I* doing to change the world? I was busy deciding whether to serve macaroni and cheese or Spaghetti-O's, washing dishes and pairing socks, while this other person who went to the same college I did was getting write-ups for improving the life of an entire village. My insignificance bothered me.
A friend (and fellow alum) had some consoling words, though I have to paraphrase as my memory fails. She said something like, Our day-to-day lives are important because they support him. If everyone were out digging wells in developing countries, who would be at home reading about it? One high school teacher worded it a little more baldly: "Someone has to flip the burgers."
Which all leads me to this. Am I happy with the life I have? I'm not globe-trotting, giving lectures in French on what Victor Hugo would think about the October riots. I'm not writing weighty tomes on Shakespeare's significance in Elizabethan England. I'm not winning Teacher of the Year awards from any national organization--or any organization, as a matter of fact.
Nope. I'm just trying to get my five-year-old to read, my three-year-old to learn his letters, and my two-year-old to use the toilet, while staying one step ahead them in the laundry, dining, and housekeeping departments. And figuring out what Santa can bring them (and me) that won't take up too much space in our already-overcrowded house.
Jewelry doesn't take up much space, does it?