Stephanie and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

I have been waiting anxiously for the movie adaptation of “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day” to come out for weeks.  Alexander and I have been friends since I was a little girl when my mama read me the story on her lap.  When I came across the book on a shelf some thirty years later, I was eager to share my friend with my kids.  They grew to love Alexander too.

On Friday I took my kids and my nieces and nephew to go see the movie.  As the children and I climbed the steps in the theater for the movie looking for a row of seats, I saw a snarky old lady peering at us through her bifocals.  She didn’t even try to hide that she was counting the kids in a disgusting voice.  “She brought seven kids to the movie!”    Stop the presses.  I brought SEVEN kids to a movie for KIDS.  Holy Moly.  Never mind the fact that the kids were perfectly quiet and well behaved the entire time.  We sat behind her and I secretly wished one of the kids would kick her chair.  They were perfect angels though.  The movie did not disappoint.  We loved it!  There was several times where we laughed out loud at the screen.  Matthew enjoyed most of the movie from my lap which made it that much sweeter.

This afternoon I spent some time writing for my book so my mind was taken back to my infertile years and all the negativity that goes with them.  It was like ten years being stuck with Alexander.  To clear my head a bit I went out to work on planting my mums that were on life support and pull some weeds.  And I thought, what if I wrote about my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day???

Stephanie and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day

I went to sleep on the couch after I finished folding five baskets of laundry and now I have a crick in my neck and when I rolled off the couch I stepped on a $%^&@ Lego then knocked over the basket of towels and by mistake I spilled the rest of my Diet Coke on another basket and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I made Eggos for Ella, Mini Pancakes for Matthew, and toast for Ethan.  Except I cut the Eggos when they weren’t supposed to be.  I put the pancakes together in a sandwich and they were SUPPOSED TO BE APPART!!  And the butter didn’t melt to Ethan’s liking.  Never mind that one banana was “not new enough” and one was too old.  I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.

I think I need a Diet Coke.

On the way to school the kids fought about which seat they had to sit in, how much longer they had to be in booster seats, if Mommy really would go to jail, what we listened to on the radio, if we loved or hated “Frozen” today and Matthew’s singing.   I painted on a smile and yelled through clinched teeth “Have a good day!  Love you!” as I peel out of the parking lot.

I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I stubbed my toe when I got out my gardening tools.  My mums have already died before I could even plant them.  I squealed when I a bug scurried from the pot.  The weeds were threatening to take over my flowerbed.  I had a weed that was literally two feet tall.  This wasn’t here the last time I worked on my yard two months ago!  Who needs a pretty yard??  I was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I need another Diet Coke.  With Sonic Ice Please.

I started to work on a project for a class party.  Pumpkins out of toilet paper roles.  Thank you Pintrest!  What was supposed to take me a few minutes took me two hours to make three.  I burned every finger with hot glue.  My hands were covered with a spider web of dried hot glue.  I used twenty glue sticks when it would have only taken a more crafty person two.  It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I picked up the kids from school and it not only rained but hailed on us.  My umbrella was in my front seat.  Ethan forgot his lunch box.  Ella forget her Spelling Words.  Matthew forgot his Green Folder.  Ethan cried.  Ella shrugged “Guess I don’t have a quiz today!” and Matthew locked us out of the playroom.  I started to get things ready for dinner.  I forgot the chicken for the chicken chili and made the spinach dip but forgot to add the spinach.  It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day…..but we were in the home stretch.

Scratch the Diet Coke.  Need. Chardonnay. Stat.

Of course this is all written tongue in cheek.  I wouldn’t trade my life for anything – even all the chaos.  Every one of these things actually did happen and many of them happen daily!  Sometimes I get mad and sometimes I cry and sometimes I laugh.

As someone who is infertile but has been blessed with children, I think often times we hold ourselves up to impossible standards.  I hope/prayed/cried for a child for so long.  Shouldn’t is all be wonderful and roses?!  We should never ever complain about the hard aspects of parenting!  I mean we worked so hard to get here!  That is just so unfair.  Being a parent is tough.  It isn’t for wimps.  Some of us have to really work extra hard just to become a parent. 

In this age of Pintrest and Facebook we can fall into the trap of holding ourselves up to an impossible standard.  “Your child has to have a room decorated that is Southern Living worthy. (never mind that they will outgrow it in a couple of years!) Your child’s birthday needs to be so over the top that it rivals a wedding reception.  (When really they just want to play with their friends.)  Everything that goes into your child’s mouth should not only be homemade but arranged to look like a woodland creature so eating is more fun!  (Chicken nuggets and mac and cheese.  Every.  Dang.  Day.)  The home that you raise your children in should be perfectly organized down to the mudroom that we all wish we had.  (The kids are banished from the house when those pictures are taken)  Your yard should have plants that bloom throughout the year with perfect color (no dead mums!)

I was sitting in my flowerbed today chastising myself.  I was still stuck in the infertility doldrums from my writing.  “I can’t believe a year ago I thought I could handle another baby or even two!  I can’t even keep a mum alive.  Look at these weeds!  My flowerbeds are a wreck!  How could I raise another child?”  Really??  Are those the standards that really matter?

The bottom line is this:  No one shares the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Days on social media.  We all like to put our “best self” out there.  And there isn’t necessarily anything wrong with that.  We just need to not hold ourselves to the impossible, false standard that no one can compare to.  Our kids don’t need any of this superfluous (that took me seven times to spell right) stuff that we obsess about.  They need you.  Just like all those years ago, I just wanted a baby.  I didn’t care if they were perfect.  I didn’t care if we lived in a van down by the river.  I just wanted a baby to love.  That’s all our kids want.  They just want our love.