I manage to drag myself out of bed and step into a steaming shower, but as I prepare for the day, I inadvertently spray hairspray directly into my face. Believe me, it’s just as unpleasant as you’d imagine—like swallowing crushed aspirin mixed with scraps of tin foil. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I can’t help but notice my roots. Ugh, how much gray is peeking through now? 20%? Maybe even 30%? And how is it possible for my skin to be both parched and covered in random zits? Honestly, I need to prioritize self-care. But right now, I just need to survive this day.
It’s preschool day, and we’re already behind schedule. I toss some bread into the toaster oven only to realize ten minutes later that I forgot to turn it on. With a handful of cereal for the kids and a quick ibuprofen for myself, my husband and I somehow manage to get everyone out the door and into the car.
Driving is a challenge when you can’t turn your neck. I crank up the radio for some distraction, but the overly cheerful tune is grating on my nerves. What I really need is some Alanis Morissette to match my mood.
After dropping off the twins at preschool, I head home with my 2-year-old. The ibuprofen on an empty stomach has left my lips numb, yet the persistent pain in my neck makes every brake and gas pedal press feel like torture. I catch a glimpse of my sweet little one in the rearview mirror and silently apologize for the number of Daniel Tiger episodes I’m about to indulge her with instead of taking her to playgroup. I desperately need a moment of rest.
Then, out of nowhere, the radio blares a cheerful tune proclaiming, “It’s gonna be the best day of my li-i-ife!” Ridiculous, I think. How could he possibly know? He sounds so young. With luck, he has another 50 or 60 years ahead of him; it’d be a tragedy if all those days were eclipsed by this one.
A more unsettling thought creeps in: Have I already experienced the best day of my life? If so, which one was it? If not, will I even recognize it when it happens? Do any of us truly know? As I reminisce about my life’s highlights—falling madly in love with my partner, the chaotic yet monumental day my children were born—I realize I’ve enjoyed many wonderful moments. But part of me clings to the hope that my best days are still ahead. After all, what is life without anticipation for future joy?
I ponder what “the best day” might look like for me now, with all the responsibilities of adulthood weighing on my shoulders. Would it involve my kids, or perhaps a rare, blissful escape without them? Would it be at home or in some exotic locale? Can you even plan for such a day, or does it come as a delightful surprise?
One thing’s for sure: today is not that day. But tomorrow just might be. I’m going to invest in a luxurious face serum, get my roots dyed and consult someone about this nagging pain. I want to be ready for the next best days of my life, whenever they may come. I turn up the volume on that upbeat song; while this may not be the best day ever, it’s also not the worst. Plus, I refuse to succumb to the beige pant trend.
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Summary:
Life can feel overwhelming, especially on days when everything seems to go wrong. The author reflects on the ups and downs of motherhood and the uncertainty of recognizing the best days of our lives amidst chaos. By focusing on self-care and remaining hopeful for future happiness, she embraces the notion that tomorrow could always bring something better.
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