Stressed is desserts spelled backwards!

Right now I am having such a difficult time (add to that, S is travelling and i'm missing him like crazy) that I just had to remind myself of this piece I wrote some time back: It helps me to remember that this too shall pass.
(And right now, things are so horrible that I'll do anything to have a BAD day! Not kidding!)

Have a nice day!

On a good day, there are more things ( like story books, parts of toys, bits of craft material, colouring books, crayons, markers with caps off and caps with markers off) scattered across my bed room floor, than landmines in a battlefield in world war two. On a bad day, let’s just say I have an intense longing to have powers like Moses, who parted the sea.

On a good day, I organize a ‘Lets-see-who-collects-the-maximum-things- in- one- minute’ contest with enthusiastic participation, from husband and two kids, the prize being that the winner gets to sleep with me. (Husband wins on most good days-- He says the prize is irresistible!)

On a bad day, I organize my vocal chords and yell. Real loud. It always works, the fringe benefit being that, since I am grumpy and in a bad mood, I get to sleep by myself, in the six by six bed. I simply love fringe benefits!

On a good day I drag myself out of bed, after hitting the snooze button on the alarm clock, at least thrice trying ineptly to keep my eyes open, light the stove and make coffee all at the same time. On a bad day, the kids drag me out of bed with rhythmic chants of “Wake up Ma—we will be late- Wake up Ma----It’s already eight.”

On a good day, the kids have at least three serious fights in a span of forty five minutes, before getting ready for school, punctuated liberally with yells of “MOM—HE is killing me—Come quick” to “MOM—SHE started it—She bit me first. If you don’t do something I’ll call the Police”

On a bad day, it is the husband and I who fight. We don’t yell –but the silent, cold war with hostilities cleverly disguised, gritted teeth, fake sweetness, dripping sarcasm and veiled digs cannot be missed.

On a good day, the tie and identity card which has to be worn to school, is found after a fifteen minute search expedition that involves maid, granny and a hassled dad and even more harassed mom, searching frantically in all places, especially inside the washing machine.

On a bad day, it is found after a half hour search and a forced confession extracted from one of the kids that they actually hid the other child’s tie, after a fight referred to on a bad day. (On a really bad day, we find it after we have filled up a form and paid the fine at school for losing it)

On a good day, I get to read the newspaper at 10:30 am, after everyone has left. On a bad day, I discover that the newspaper has been used to wrap a school project that has to be turned in, and I discover this after I have looked in every possible place that it could be, including under the mattress, just in case the kids remembered my yelling from the bad day.

On a good day I always remind myself that there are days which can be worse. On a bad day, I am reminded what Charlene Ann Baumbich said, “Mama said there’d be days like this—but she didn’t say how many!”

I’m thankful for the good days. I’m thankful for the bad days too. It means that I am well and healthy. I don’t have any serious ailments to worry about. I have a happy family and a cozy home. Besides, I can always have a great haircut on a bad day. My hairdresser tells me she styles it best, when it is standing up! (Didn’t I say I love fringe benefits?!)

So, you see, it is all a matter of perspective and when people tell me “Have a nice day!” I smile because I know either ways I will!

© Ps