You know how sometimes you read blogs and the blogger confesses that she was having a bad day? And everyone, even the folks who usually only lurk, suddenly leaves like 100 comments saying the equivalent of, "Oh I'm so glad you wrote this. I love that you're wretched and common like the rest of fallible humanity because now I can stop believing you are superhuman and stop hating you for it! I love you!"
You know what strikes me about such posts? That they have photos. I'm sitting there thinking, "How does she have a bad day and still have the wherewithal to take photos, edit them to look moody and artistic and post them and blog about her day while using the word "Today" in her opening line? She's still superhuman. And I'm still a wretched worm that writhes about on my filthy kitchen floor."
When I have bad days, it takes me several days after to recover from and catch up with the mortifying mess that is their aftermath. On The Bad Day itself, I have a headache. I can't even sew (and that's saying something). I hate cardboard. Previously-adored music is like nails on a chalkboard. I want my children to stop asking me stuff and leave me alone. I don't want to get snacks for anyone. I don't want to cook for anyone. And over everything is the sense that I'd gotten absolutely nothing done since getting out of bed that morning. It isn't migraines - it's just a bad day. I often want to blog about it because I feel so deliciously crabby that it's sure to be a funny post. But I can never bring myself to because, well, it's a Bad Day.
Two months ago, I had such a Bad Day. It was one of those Particularly Bad days in which I was sliding down the side of the kitchen counter to squat on the kitchen floor with my hands over my ears. Nothing especially bad happened - and I don't even remember what was so bad about the day, except that my house was full of children (actually just three) and they were saying they were bored for the hundredth time and it was the peak of summer and there were still weeks more before they would return to school and be out of my hair, and I couldn't think of a single thing to cook for dinner that wasn't cheating, and the house needed to be picked up and probably the breakfast cereal was still on the table even though I was trying to plan for dinner and let's not even talk about the dishwasher or the laundry or the cobwebs or the sad potted plant dying in the window.
I decided then, that I needed super powers. There was no other way to cope. I HAD to make myself a superhero costume. It works for children, right? I mean, they wear a superhero cape and suddenly -Wham! -they're invincible. By that logic, an entire superhero costume would be ten times more powerful.
Listen - the reason I'm only telling you now is because that's how long it takes me to get anything done. Even just telling you about My Bad Day took two months. You have to believe me when I say that I don't just have Bad Days six times a year. I have them (and fractions thereof) quite often. But that Bad Day, the one that inspired my superhero outfit, was that long ago and only coming to light now.
So then I went out and bought Tshirts for my costume. Which sat on the floor of my closet for weeks. La la la la la la la. Then I planned my designs. Want to see some of the contenders?
And here's another:
But they all sounded so..... accomplished and powerful and ambitious and amazing and point-to-prove-ish. Which didn't at all resound with the true essence of My Bad Day Two Months Ago. So I threw them out. And decided on this one which, on some days, is the sad pinnacle of my superheroineness. It's true and honest and (to be fair, especially if you've had Bad Days yourself) downright applaudable, if I may so so myself. Here it is:
Wasn't it President Snow (in the Hunger Games) who told Katniss,
"Aim high in case you fall short"?
I beg to differ. I prefer:
"On some days, just get food.
Everything else is a bonus."
When I finally finished it and wore it for a test run, I was having a Good Day (it had chocolate in it, and lemon bars) so I was already superhuman and slightly disappointed to find that it had no effect on my already-abundant supremeness. I've decided, therefore, that this cannot be an Everyday Empowerment Tshirt- I mean, that's what stuff like My Favorite Jeans and My Perfect-Fit-Grey-Shirt are for, right? No, this superhero suit is for when everything is lousy and overwhelming and I find a rotting cabbage in the fridge and discover I'd washed all the darks (including the brand new denims) with the whites and and I forgot the kids' well-child appointments again and I'm wading knee-deep in prettyrellas and Barbiephernalia and Legos and polyester dress-up clothes bits and all three kids are sick so I can't pack them in the car at 5:21 pm and drive out to the supermarket to buy emergency ground beef or Tylenol. Yes, this is for those days. And I know you understand because you have them, too.
So....... that's my superpower. What's yours?