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I Guess Some Days Are Just Like That


It’s been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I wake up this morning at 5:30am, my daughter tugging at my arm, I roll over and see my husband lying on his side, pretending to be sound asleep.  I change diapers. I wipe bottoms. I make coffee.  The coffee over-flows, spilling on the counter, burning the underside of the pot, a puddle on the floor.  My husband says it’s my fault that I always over fill the coffee grounds.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

It is spring, April 16th, snowing, not a pretty snow, but a slushy snow that looks dirty before it even hits the ground.  I get my daughters dressed and ready for school.  I remember her boots, snow pants, hats, and mittens because God forbid, I show up without them. (Yes, I’ve gotten the yellow sticky note inside her cubby, preschool’s Scarlet Letter, stating my daughter was dressed inappropriately for the weather).  TODAY I remember her snow clothes.  I squeeze two bundled toddlers into their car seats.  Pull two toddlers out of the car, holding one in each arm so their feet don’t get wet in the slush.  I carry them like packages down the sidewalk under my arms to school.  I enter the classroom, unloading snow clothes into her cubby and realize where is her backpack? No backpack. No lunch.  No snack. I am defeated, I drive home in the snow to retrieve the forgotten goods, buckling and unbuckling and squeezing my little one from her car seat again and again.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

A gloomy day with gloomy thoughts.  Dad in the ICU. Boston. Aurora. Newtown. Guns. Bombs. Parents, their core-beings amputated in a flash of violence as their children are senselessly ripped from their lives. Enough is enough. Gun control legislation shot down.  Where is our country’s common sense?

Self-doubt, my mind is a house of mirrors, reflections distorted and unclear.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

But then, my husband comes home. “I’m sorry you’ve had a hard day.  I wasn’t mad about the coffee,” he returns to work.  My Dad is moved out of the ICU.  A message, “I love reading what you write.” Two hour naps and I write the entire time.  I am fueled.  Girls bounce from bed full of joy.  Bookstore. No tantrums.  No tears. A new chapter book.  A new Snow White princess book (with stickers). Excitement. Cold wind. Snow pelting our faces. Alive. Pizza. A phone call from husband, “Babe, the meeting was canceled, I’ll be home soon.”

A dance party. Arms outstretched like airplanes, a mom with her two girls, flying through the living room, spinning, and singing at the top of their lungs, “I PRETEND THAT AIRPLANES IN THE NIGHT SKY ARE SHOOTING STARS, I COULD REALLY USE A WISH RIGHT NOW, WISH RIGHT NOW, WISH RIGHT NOW … ”.

My youngest arms spread wide shouts, “I fly Mama, me an airplane,” as she circles the room at full speed. We are sprinkled with magic pixie dust and happy thoughts, soaring through Neverland.

Big girl orders, “Mom, you pretend you’re making the wish and we’ll be the shooting stars.  What do you wish for?” The snow is no longer dreary and the music swallows us on this unusual April night.

“Health and happiness.” I tell her.  A selfish wish, but it’s my wish all the same.

“I wish to enter the book Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” She exclaims, (like the Magic Tree House books we read at night where the kids are transported into the pages of their stories).

“Yeah, that’s a pretty cool wish.” I smile.  We fly. We dance.  We sing.

It has been a wonderful, magical, complex, very good day.

I guess some days are just like that.

4 thoughts on “I Guess Some Days Are Just Like That

  1. Love it!! You are an amazing writer;) have been thinking of u and your fam. Lets catch up soon. My parents are here til Sunday- maybe next week. Lots of love-ami

    Sent from my iPhone

  2. This warms my heart. You write beautifully. This blog made this moment right now for me, magical. Thanks, Justine!

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