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This Definitely Isn’t My Best Day
I manage to drag myself out of bed and into a hot shower. As I’m slowly getting ready, I accidentally spray hairspray directly into my face. Let me tell you, it’s as gross as it sounds. Hairspray tastes like a mix of crushed aspirin and broken tin cans. I glance at my reflection in the mirror and cringe. My roots are in dire need of attention. What percentage of that chaos is gray these days? Twenty? Maybe thirty? And how is my skin so dry while also being dotted with random zits? Ugh. I really need to prioritize self-care. But right now, I just have to survive this day.
It’s a preschool day, and we’re already late. I pop some bread in the toaster oven, only to realize ten minutes later that I forgot to turn it on. I throw a handful of cereal at the kids and gulp down some ibuprofen myself. With my partner’s help, we somehow manage to get everyone out the door and into the car.
Driving is a challenge when your neck feels like a brick. I switch on the radio for some distraction, and of course, I land on something annoyingly cheerful. Ugh! All I really want is some Alanis Morissette, you know?
After dropping the twins off at preschool, I head back home with my two-year-old. Thanks to the ibuprofen on an empty stomach, I can’t even feel my lips, while the pain in my neck yells at me every time I hit the gas or brake. I catch the sweet little face of my toddler in the rearview mirror and silently apologize for the number of Daniel Tiger episodes I’m about to resort to instead of taking her to playgroup. I just need a break.
Then, the radio blares a song about how this is “gonna be the best day of [his] li-i-i-i-i-i-iiiife.” Seriously? How could he even know that? He sounds so young. With any luck, he has another 50 or 60 years ahead of him, and it would be a real bummer if every single day after this one was a letdown compared to today.
Then it hits me—two scary thoughts, actually. First, I realize: I sound ancient. This guy on the radio could be my age, but he’s having the best day ever, while I’m just a cynical old bat who can barely turn my head. I might as well start shopping for beige slacks and shaking my fist at the kids speeding down my street.
The second, even scarier thought: 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 arrives? Does anyone? How do they figure that out?
I start to reflect on the highlights of my life. Those exhilarating early days with my partner were fantastic, but I was so young. The day I became a mom was monumental, but also exhausting and painful. I wouldn’t want to tell my youngest daughter, “Your sisters’ birth was the best day of my life.”
Vivid memories of past great days flash through my mind: indulging in Turkish Delight at a London market, gazing at the stunning blue view from a hilltop in Maine, enjoying perfect soup by a crackling fireplace in the lush Scottish woods. I’m fortunate to have experienced many incredible days. It’s possible the best day has already occurred, but I’m holding out hope that even better days are on the horizon. What’s life without something to look forward to?
Then I ponder what “the best day” would look like for me at this stage in my life filled with responsibilities. Would it involve my children, or would it be a rare, blissful getaway without them? Would I want to spend it at home or somewhere breathtakingly exotic? Does it even matter? Can you truly plan for something like the best day of your life, or do you just wait for it to surprise you, like a wonderful gift?
I know one thing for sure: today isn’t it. But tomorrow just might be. So I’m off to buy some fancy face serum, get my roots done, and see someone about this neck pain. I want to be prepared for more best days whenever they come, no matter how they look. I crank up the volume on that cheerful song. Today might not be the best day of my life, but it’s definitely not the worst, and I’m not ready to start wearing beige slacks just yet.
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Summary:
This reflection on an ordinary day highlights the struggles of parenting, self-care, and the search for meaning in daily life. The author shares relatable moments of frustration, self-doubt, and the hope for future joy while pondering the nature of the “best day” of one’s life.