What makes one day better than another? How is it I can have over a week of days that make me wonder what I've done right in this world, then be slammed with one that negates it all. I think if I knew the answer and how to prevent bad days, I'd write a book and make millions.
For me, sleep has a lot to do with it. Mine and my children's. Runny noses that lead to ear infections, teething and generally doing something for myself while it's quiet at night, all find ways to rob me and my children of precious, precious sleep.
And possibly hormones. Yes, I admit it. Those annoying little chemicals find surreptitious ways to control minutes of my life I'll never get back. Predicting them? Ha! I don't think so. Controlling them? Might as well write them off as one of those "that explains it" things, kind of like teething.
Whether or not the house is a mess. I am shallow enough of a person to let the house's "state" be in charge of my moods. Although, I have come to the conclusion that cleanliness isn't necessarily my goal any more, it is clutter-control. Floors, bathtubs, towels, etc. used to get "cleaned" much more. Now, the truth is, the smell they emanate or their level of stickiness decides their soapy fate.
If I feel rushed or have a lot to do in a little bit of time. Deadlines, real or self-imposed, and my ability to get them accomplished are factors leading to a good day.
Children's moods. They have bad days like big people, and sometimes they're just gonna have a crappy day no matter what I do. 'Nuff said.
Yet somehow, somedays, when I've had little sleep, a child or two is in a bad mood, little to no "picking up" has been done lately and we're running late to get to school on time - I can still manage to have a good day.
There seems to be no rhyme or reason to it, and I somehow manage to avoid feeling like...
There is one thing that is for sure: God always meets me there. Wherever I am - apologizing to my daughter for not mommy-ing well, finding no energy to provide entertainment other than the TV, resorting to fast food for supper, not truly thinking out how to handle a biting child and stomping my feet on the ground because I'm not being heard. I am being heard and He's begging for my attention.
And when I am finally broken enough to realize I can't do it, I'm having a bad day, and I call out to Him, there is peace. It might be that really nice peace that makes the room quiet and children get along for about 5 seconds, but then, it's usually followed with the peace that follows me through the continued chaos of the day.
Why does it take so long to relinquish? Why is it usually my last thought? I guess, because I'm human and broken.
I hope this means I'm due for some more good days.
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