So, I finally manage to drag myself out of bed and into the shower, only to accidentally spray hairspray all over my face. Trust me, it’s as delightful as it sounds—think crushed aspirin and tin foil. As I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I can’t help but cringe at my roots. Seriously, how much gray is creeping in? Twenty percent? Thirty? And why is my skin so parched while zits seem to pop up like weeds on my cheeks? Ugh. Clearly, I need to up my self-care game. But right now, I just need to survive the day.
It’s preschool day, and of course, we’re behind schedule. I pop some bread in the toaster oven and then remember ten minutes later that it’s not even on. Great. I hurriedly toss some cereal at the kids while swallowing an ibuprofen myself. With my husband’s help, we manage to get everyone out the door and into the car—miracle of miracles.
Driving with a cranky neck isn’t exactly fun. I switch on the radio for a distraction, and what do I get? A relentlessly upbeat tune about how this is “gonna be the best day of [his] li-i-i-i-i-i-iiiife.” Seriously? How can he be so sure? He sounds so young! If he’s lucky, he might have another 50 or 60 years to live, and what if all those days don’t measure up to this one?
Then it hits me: I sound like a grumpy old lady. I’m probably around the same age as this guy on the radio, but he’s living his best life while I can barely turn my head. At this rate, I might as well grab some beige slacks and start shaking my fist at the kids speeding down my street.
And then, the real kicker: Have I already had my best day? What day was it? If not, will I even recognize it when it happens? Does anyone know? I start to sift through my life’s highlights. Sure, the exhilarating days of falling in love with my partner were unforgettable. The day I became a mom was monumental, but also exhausting. I can’t just tell my youngest, “Sorry, but your sisters’ births were way better.”
I flash back to vibrant memories: indulging in Turkish Delight at a London market, the stunning blue vistas from a hilltop in Maine, and the cozy warmth of soup by a crackling fire in soggy Scottish woods. I’m grateful; I’ve had plenty of amazing days. Maybe my best day has already passed, but I’d like to think there’s more to come. After all, what would life be without a little anticipation?
Then I ponder what my “best day” would look like now, at this point in my life full of responsibilities. Would it include my kids, or would it be a rare, blissful escape? Would I prefer a day at home or an adventure in a far-off land? Can you even plan for something like the best day of your life, or does it just surprise you like an unexpected gift?
One thing is clear: today isn’t it. But who knows, tomorrow might be! So, I’m treating myself to some fancy face serum, getting my roots touched up, and addressing this neck pain. I want to be ready for more of those best days whenever they come, however they look. I crank up the volume on that upbeat song. This may not be my best day, but it’s definitely not the worst, and I refuse to start wearing those beige slacks!
Summary
In a humorous reflection on a hectic day, the author navigates parenting chaos while pondering what it means to have “the best day of your life.” Amidst moments of self-doubt and nostalgia, she ultimately embraces the idea that while today may not be extraordinary, tomorrow just might hold something special.