We’ve all been there. We miss our train. Our car doesn’t start. Or it starts, but leaves you stranded in traffic. In rush hour. In the pouring rain. Your man “forgets” to take out the trash last night, and your trash is sprawled across the lawn like confetti. Your child flushes down your watch, then smiles. My personal favourite worst day *to date* (I preface this to say thus far, because, let’s face it; my life is ridiculous and I am bound to top my worst day at some point) was… Grab a snack and enjoy the pandemonium to follow.
Having 3 children under 4 as a single mama divorcé. My hair was frazzled, even on the best of days. Sure, I could splash on a dash of lipstick and rock some killer heels like the rest of them. I was working to finish up my college job internship. I was also in university full time. I was exhausted mentally, physically, emotionally. I just needed…. a BREAK. My only solace I had found was in taking an extra minute or two in the bathroom. I had to give that up once there were twenty little fingers under the door saying, “What are you doing in there mama?” However, on this particular day, I just needed a few deep breathes. The babies were all downstairs. I figured, They’ll be fine….right…. At this point, I didn’t particularly care for the consequences. At this point, they were 1, 2, and barely 4. Treehouse was on. They couldn’t reach the locks on the front and back doors. Everything was ok. Until…. there was silence.
We all know as parents that when there are children, loud children are good, silent children are bad. I appreciated the moment of solace. Until I that moment of sheer panic of, “SH!T! They must’ve run out of the house and are gone forever!!!!” I bolted down the stairs. More silence ensued. I looked frantically in the kitchen; no children in sight. I sped walked through the living room and to the front door. Locks still in place. Where did they get to?
A small laugh broke through the sound of my heart beating louder than my own thoughts. I followed the sound back to the kitchen. I had pulled a loveseat into the couch where I would sit the babies as I cooked dinner akin to a barricade wall in a warzone. We’re on the battlefield as single mama’s! We take what works and go with it. I slowly walked over to the loveseat. Somehow, (and I use that phrase lightly) the three of them had pushed the couch out, the oldest had crawled onto the counter to get an entire bag of chocolate chips, had opened it with kitchen scissors, had taken off the floor grate, and had dumped the entire bag into the vent. I imagine that while the oldest was scouring her mission on the high ground, she left her brother for lower terrain, because he had grabbed cookies, marshmallows, and any fruit he could find in the fridge to dump into the floor fondue. The one year old had stripped herself of her onesie and was covered, head-to-toe in chocolate.
I stared in amazement at their coordinated efforts. I couldn’t even be mad at how ingenious their efforts were. They were all covered head-to-toe in chocolate. When consulting with a girlfriend on how best to clean up the 5 foot by 5 foot fondue expanse that was now my kitchen floor, her only comment she could muster over her stifled laughter was to photo document EVERYTHING.
For me. That classifies as a SH!T day. We’ve all had them. But what do we do once the ensuing chaos wrecks havoc as a hurricane does?
- We have control over what we can control.
Sure. There are a lot of things outside of our scope of manageability. Our boss rival those in the movies. It would’ve been faster to walk to work than to sit in a 4 hour traffic jam. But when we relinquish the so-called power these things have in our lives, we can begin to be intentional in our reactions.
- We are responsible for our emotions.
I hear people say all the time, “He makes me angry,” and, “The way they chew with their mouth open like a cow makes me so disgusted…” (no one says the last one to me, but it would be quite funny if they did). I’m here to tell ya, my friend, that no one makes you angry. You do that all on your own. You give them your power when you allow them to dictate your emotions. When someone is able to ruin your entire day just by giving you a stank eye, that’s too much power. I don’t know about you, but I know for me, the people who are dust off my shoulder don’t get more than a moment’s notice, IF THAT!
- A SH!T day isn’t a SH!T life.
Just because you have one terrible, rotten, very no-good, awful day, or days, or weeks, does NOT mean your life is a write off. I’ve heard it said by my fave author, C. S. Lewis (check him out if you haven’t already. You’re welcome for improving your life) that it’s never too late to start a new dream. It’s never too late to stop having 44 SH!T days in a row. Don’t carry it to day 45, my friend. You are worth more than that.