Bad day

I'm having a bad day.

You know how I know?

I'm yelling a lot.

I'm restless and irritable.

I'm having a hard time with the girls fighting.

I'm having a hard time with the girls giggling and getting along.

I'm still in my pyjamas and it's after 11 a.m.

I'm not enjoying being in my pyjamas - the thought of getting dressed is overwhelming me. Because if I get dressed, then I have to get the girls dressed and deal with Sophie's negotiations and Lillian demanding to do it herself, which normally I can handle...but not today.

Because today is a bad day.

One of my favourite books is a children's book. It's called Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst. It's about this little boy named Alexander who has a day when nothing goes his way, where nothing is good enough, and where he gets in trouble. He decides he's going to move to Australia because he bets that they don't have bad days there.

Via Goodreads

At the end, he goes to bed and his mom tells him that everyone has bad days, even Australians. I'm hoping that the next day he has a better day...there is no sequel, but that's what I wish for him. A string of bad days is just not fair. One is bad enough.

When I was battling postpartum depression, the bad days had no end. Every day was a bad day. And then slowly, the string got broken up with beads of good moments, which turned into good minutes, hours, even chunks of day. And then, I had my first good day. And I have no idea when that happened, but that first good day was a gateway to more good and soon the good outnumbered the bad.
And that's where I am. I know today is just a bad day and that tomorrow, or even this afternoon or evening will be better.

But for right now Australia and my bed are looking pretty darn good.

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