I manage to drag myself out of bed and into a steaming shower. As I’m getting ready, I accidentally spray hairspray all over my face. It’s as miserable as you might imagine. Hairspray tastes like a mix of crushed aspirin and bits of tin can. Staring at my reflection, I can’t help but think how terrible my roots look. What percentage of that chaos is gray? 20%? Maybe even 30%? And why does my skin feel so parched, yet I have these odd patches of zits on my cheeks? Goodness. I really need to prioritize self-care. But for now, I just need to survive this day.
It’s a preschool day, and we’re already running behind. I pop some bread into the toaster oven, only to realize ten minutes later that I forgot to turn it on. I quickly toss some cereal at the kids and swallow an ibuprofen myself. Thanks to my husband’s help, we somehow manage to get everyone out the door and into the car.
Driving becomes a challenge when you can’t move your neck properly. I turn on the radio, hoping for some distraction, but it’s playing something annoyingly upbeat. Ugh. What I really need is some Alanis Morissette, you know?
After dropping off the twins at preschool, I head home with my 2-year-old. The ibuprofen on an empty stomach has left me numb-lipped, but my neck pain still yells at me every time I accelerate or brake. I catch a glimpse of my sweet little one in the rearview mirror and silently apologize for the numerous episodes of Daniel Tiger I’ll rely on instead of taking her to playgroup today. I just need a break.
Suddenly, the radio blares a cheerful tune about how today is “gonna be the best day of [his] li-i-i-i-i-i-iiiife.” How absurd, I think. How could he possibly know? He sounds so young. With any luck, he has 50 or 60 more years to live, and it would be a shame if all those days were less enjoyable than this one.
Then a scary thought strikes me: Do I sound ancient? The singer and I might be around the same age, yet he’s reveling in the best day of his life while I’m a cynical woman struggling with neck pain. I might as well start collecting beige slacks and shaking my fist at reckless drivers.
But then I ponder something even more unsettling: Have I already experienced the best day of my life? If so, which one was it? If not, will I recognize it when it happens? Do others even know when they’ve hit that milestone?
I start to reminisce about the highlights of my life. The exhilarating days spent falling in love with my husband were fantastic, but I was so young then. The day I became a mother was monumental, yet exhausting and painful. It would be a bit harsh to tell my youngest daughter, “It was wonderful when you were born, but the best day was when your sisters arrived.”
Vivid memories of past great days flash before me: piles of Turkish Delight in a bustling London market; the stunning blue view from a hilltop on a quaint Maine island; the delightful surprise of perfect soup and a crackling fire in the lush, green Scottish woods. I am fortunate to have experienced so many remarkable days. While it’s possible that my best day has already passed, I remain hopeful that the best is still ahead. After all, what is life without something to anticipate?
Now I ponder what my “best day” would look like at this point in my life filled with responsibilities. Would it involve my children, or perhaps a rare, blissful escape without them? Would I prefer to spend it at home or in a breathtaking, distant locale? Does it even matter? Can one truly plan for the best day of their life, or must it simply find you, like an unexpected gift?
One thing is certain: today is not that day. But maybe tomorrow will be. So, I’m going to invest in some luxurious face serum, get my roots done, and seek help for this pain. I want to be prepared for more of life’s best days whenever they come, in whatever form they take. I turn up the volume on this cheerful song. While today might not be the best day of my life, it certainly isn’t the worst, and I’m definitely not ready to start wearing beige slacks.
Summary
In this reflective piece, a mother faces the chaotic challenges of her day while contemplating what constitutes “the best day of her life.” Moments of self-doubt and nostalgia intertwine with humorous observations about parenting and aging. Ultimately, she remains optimistic about future possibilities and embraces the notion of self-care as a means to prepare for those great days ahead.