Some days you wake up and the world is bathed in yellow sunshine and lollipops. Even the bad things turn out to be simply endearing or funny or both. Some days everything is laughed off, their are beautiful quiet moments where you sigh and go, “I will remember this moment in 10 years and I will remember that it felt like THIS,” and it will all be very very lovely.
And then there are days like yesterday. Where I woke up from a terrible terrible bad dream where I cried in my sleep and then because of a string of assholer-y the crying didn’t stop. It was Mother’s Day…. yes, but that didn’t mean anything at my house. It meant fighting and slammed doors, lugging laundry to and fro before 8:00am, errands and meetings where I wanted to wear my sunglasses the whole time to hide my puffy eyes. It meant canceled plans with one of my favorite people, it meant being too busy with all of the bad to not even have the chance for a meal until 3:30pm. The bad things on this day were very bad. They were not funny or endearing, they were exhausting and awful.
And it was worse because it was Mother’s Day. My first one. And this was what it was. It kept echoing in my brain, “your first your first your first your first” and this was it, that was it, there it went, poof. In tears and snot and yelling and hiding in the bathroom. In jiggling and snuggling baby, pacing with baby, crying with baby.
And I knew people would ask about it on Monday and I would say, “It was great! How was yours?” But really I would think, “It was terrible, I’m glad it’s over,” because life happens and we are not perfect and some times even the special days land on one of the bad days. The days where it is not sunshine and lollipops and rainbows and secret smiles. Some days just aren’t good days. Some days aren’t good days at all, not even a little bit.