Tomorrow Is Another Day

16 Feb

Profound, I know, but some days just really suck. I should have known that today would be one of them.

The day started like this:

“Mom,” my son said, “the dog pooped all over his crate.”

Wonderful, I thought. “But Dad cleaned it up,” he added. I breathed a mental sigh of relief. I hugged and kissed my son goodbye and went back to bed.

A little while later, my daughter and I got up, got dressed and went downstairs for breakfast.

“Mom,” my daughter said, “the dog pooped in his crate.”

“I know, honey,” I said. “Daddy cleaned it up.”

“No, Mom,” she said, “he pooped again. Looks like he barfed, too.”

I screamed a mental scream of anguish then I did what a mother has to do at 8 a.m. I cleaned the poopbarf, made a pot of tea, toasted bread for my daughter’s breakfast, toasted buckwheat pancakes for myself, made lunch for my daughter, turned the toasted bread into cinnamon toast then ate my pancakes standing up while drinking the tea. I did, of course, wash my hands between the poopbarf and the tea making.

Following dropping daughter off at school, I drove to Chicago to visit my psychiatrist. It is a measure of the suckitude of my day that this visit was the highlight. The week prior, I had driven down to his office and found him not in it. The door was, in fact, locked. After thinking him dead in the office, it occurred to me that it might be me that was in error. Indeed, I had the wrong day. So, it was with great relief that I saw him today, alive, in his office. We had quite the little laugh over my misadventure. We also discussed why I had put my empty coffee travel mug in my coat pocket and brought it to the session. I had no answer. I paid him $200 for a half hour for him to tell me that people do that kind of thing.

After my session with Dr. Funnypants, I drove to Aurora where I taught reading skills to a handful of kids who really don’t want to be there with the exception of the one who stalks me. Let’s call him Stalker Boy. He meets me at the front door of his school every day. None of the other kids in the class do, but he is there every day that I am there. If I’m late, he has the school secretary give me a tardy slip. He determines when I am late, not me. I still have not figured out what time it is that constitutes lateness in his mind. Of course, today he gave me a tardy slip.

The unmotivated kids and I ground through the day’s lesson. Stalker Boy interjected comments about his day, my hair, the sharpness of his pencil, the quality of snack the school had supplied, my children, and the weather. Finally, the hour was up and the unmotivated skipped merrily from the room. Stalker Boy walked me out the door as he does every day that I am there. He made sure I turned my tardy slip back in at the front desk.

I drove home, found my children glued to screens, stuffing their faces with relatively healthy snacks. The dog had stuffed his crate with further poopbarf. My children, perhaps wisely, did not tell me that the crate was full again.

I cleaned the poopbarf and made dinner. I did, of course, wash my hands between those activities. The kids and I downed the entire batch of linguine and clam sauce, leaving nothing for my husband. He can add a little suckishness to his day, I thought, as I slurped up the last linguine noodle.

We can fast forward through the rest: attempt to write newspaper column; testy phone call with sister regarding assistance in caring for tremendously ill father; mad dash to gymnastics class; discover last-class show is planned; decide that it is better to be a marginally attentive parent at the gym show than to miss column deadline; write column on heroin use with nosy dad hanging over shoulder; peek up from writing every other line to catch daughter doing cute things on dangerous equipment.

When I got home, I left a message for my sister apologizing for my testiness, emailed my column to my husband to proof, then ran upstairs to fulfill my mother-son bonding responsibility of watching “Top Chef” together. The suckiness continued as my favorite contestant, the Zen-like Beverly was eliminated in favor of the paranoid Sarah.  At the first commercial break, I checked with my husband to see if he had gotten the column. He hadn’t. I checked my email and found that it was doing the thing that I have taken it to the Apple Genius to repair only to find that it won’t do that thing for the Genius. Mail works fine when the boyishly handsome young Genius is in the vicinity. Mail is a bitch to the harried middle-aged woman just trying to get her column done on time.

Eventually, I got the column to my husband and edited it, ignoring his suggestions. He could deal with a little more suck in his day, I reasoned. I got an email from my sister which I should have ignored until I was having a day that didn’t suck as much as this one did. So, my response to my sister probably sucked.

Tomorrow will be a better day. I’ll grovel a little . . ok, I’ll grovel a lot with my sister. I’ll start taking deep breaths as soon as I see Stalker Boy. And I’ll get my teeth cleaned. Yeah, that will be a much better day.


7 Responses to “Tomorrow Is Another Day”

  1. stolsham&j February 16, 2012 at 12:54 am #

    Oh dear. I think we all have one of those days every now and then. Hope tomorrow looks up for you. You sound like you deserve at least a week of great days. Two lots of poopbarf cleaning – perhaps two weeks.

    • jmlindy422 February 16, 2012 at 8:12 am #

      Ah, if only two weeks were possible. I’d take two hours at this point. Thanks for the good thoughts.

  2. Beverly February 16, 2012 at 1:08 am #

    Loved it! Most of my days are like this one, and yet I continue to hold out hope that they will get better. Stupid or optimistic? You decide. 🙂

    • jmlindy422 February 16, 2012 at 8:11 am #

      I have frequently thought that optimists are stupid, so there you go. Thanks, Bev.

  3. Jim February 16, 2012 at 5:44 am #

    Hey, you had the cleanest hands in the family. I suppose if there’s a bright side, that’s it.

    • jmlindy422 February 16, 2012 at 8:11 am #

      You know, I do have the cleanest hands! Some day I’m going to write about looking on the bright side and I’m saving this comment for that day.

  4. Karaboo February 17, 2012 at 11:21 am #

    I agree – tomorrow will be a better day!

    The way the last couple of days have gone, cleaning up poopbarf would have been a highlight… 😦

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