I refer to sucky days as "jelly-side down days". It dates back to when our daughters were two year old and "infant-screaming-with-an-ear infection". I was toggling back and forth all day between them, trying to minimize the screaming that began the previous night. I was pulling my hair out by morning snack.
I even pooped on the toilet while bouncing my baby in the Bjorn while changing the shirt of my toddler. I was aware of the sanitary issues, but the screaming from both mouths would have been too much if I tried to go alone. Dignity is simply something a woman gives up when she has a toddler and newborn. I know I'm not the only that has done this, ladies.
Anyway, back to the original jelly-side down day. I didn’t have a morsel of food until 7:00 pm because I was so busy feeding, cleaning, changing, playing, singing, and rocking. So I made an English muffin with strawberry jelly for myself and as I walked across the kitchen I dropped it. Jelly side down. It was the last straw.
I yelled, “MOTHERFUCKER! JELLY SIDE DOWN! PARKER (my two year old), LOOK AT THIS! JELLY FUCKING SIDE DOWN! OH MY GOD!”
The good news is my children stopped screamining due to sheer shock and terror. The bad news is, they were shocked and terrified. I apologized and admitted that I wasn't proud of my behavior. Paige didn't give a shit since she was three weeks old, but I still thought she deserved an apology. Parker just stood there, paralyzed in fear.
But God, the one “meal” I made for myself was now lying on the floor, jelly side down. If it landed jelly side up, everything would have been fine. I would have picked it up and shoved it in my face. But I couldn’t pick it up and eat it because I hadn’t washed floors in at least three weeks. Damn it.
It's the little things that knock us off kilter, isn't it? We hold it together for the big things like surgery, ER visits, and the croup. But goddamn it if a an english muffin lands jelly side down. Why is that? You would think we would fall apart on the big things, but it's always the feather landing on top of the pile that releases the volcano.
During this phase of my life, I entertained a certain fantasy. It had nothing to do with an orgasm. That would produce another infant-with-an-ear-infection, which was not fantasy material.
Instead, I dreamed of being sent away to a resort where talking was not permissible. Meditation was the only activity allowed. My room did not have windows and no one cared if I emerged from the room or not. I could sleep for sixteen hours if I wanted. And then, when I was well-rested, a healthy dinner would be waiting for me. And if an English muffin was served with that dinner, it would be jelly side up.
What can I say, sometimes a girl just needs the little things to line up before appreciating the big things like health, love and security.