A Down Day in an Up Life

When I wake up in the morning I expect that the day will have both ups and downs. Unfortunately, there are those days when, before I've even made my morning trip to the bathroom, I've had more downs than ups. 

For example, today.  Insane dreams, bordering on nightmares, plagued my sleep throughout the night. The first dream of the night I'm back in high school playing in the marching band only I'm playing the wrong instrument, wearing the wrong uniform, and going the opposite direction as the rest of the band. The crazy part?  I've been out of high school for over twenty years and I continue to have dreams about marching band. Dream number two: I'm roaming through a cemetery.  Weird, but another common dream for me. It's still unnerving to be searching through graves and tombs for some unknown object, especially when I know something or someone is watching my every move waiting for me to mess up. And the last installment of night 'downers' was about my dream mother being furious with the dream me because my dream father had paid off their house.  To me, that would seem like cause for celebration, but no, my mother was screaming that she never wanted to see me again. Freud would have an amazing time with me, wouldn't he?

Then when the alarm went off it sounded as if Quasimodo had brought the cathedral bells into my bedroom and was slamming them together. My entire body literally lifted off the bed with a frightened jump (and trust me, that is no small feat). Regaining my composure and disentangling myself from the bed covers, I roll to the side of the bed and bang the snooze button. I glance with blurry eyes at the time (6:00 AM, which is really 5:45 because I've set my clock fifteen minutes fast) and think to myself that I have plenty of time to get ready. Yes! Nine more minutes of hopefully glorious sleep uninterrupted by stupid dreams. Snooze button? No, no, of course not, THAT would have been an 'up' and my day was starting off with 'down'.  Unknowingly, I hit the button that resets the alarm for the following day. Why do they make buttons like this?  Why do they place it so incredibly close to the snooze button?  And why nine minutes when you are actually able to hit the snooze?  Why not an even ten?  I digress, allow me to continue.  I awaken what seems like only a few minutes later (less than nine minutes since the cathedral bells haven't been tolling with my head in-between them) only to find that I've slept an additional two hours and thirty-seven minutes. Definitely NOT an 'up' moment to start my day.
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Eight thirty-seven?! Holy jumping jelly beans! The knot that twines in my stomach is instantaneous and sends adrenaline pumping which a jolt that is more electrifying than 20 cups of liquid caffeine. I am out of bed before I even realize it and am screaming "Janie" at the top of my lungs in hopes my pre-teen daughter will actually hear me and get out of bed. She's a delightful girl, Janie, but waking up without being shaken, not stirred, and poured out of bed onto the floor is not our norm.  However, thankfully, this morning the decibels combined with pure panic have risen the dead! Janie pushes open her bedroom door and says "what?" while wiping the eye boogers from her beautiful brown eyes.

"We are late, late, late, sweetheart! Get dressed, brush your teeth, and do something with that hair!" I command, then spin like a crazy top back to my own room. Microseconds later I'm feeling stabbing icicles of pain shooting from my foot up through my shins and into my thighs as I connect my baby toe with the doorjamb. "Oh my sweet baby Jesus!" Tears run from my eyes. I'm forced to hop on one foot back to my bed where I lovingly cradle my damaged foot in my arms. The toe is still intact and looks like it always has so I guess I will survive. From the feeling I half expected my toe to appear squished yet throbbing, big and red, like in a cartoon. I dress quickly in whatever hanging in my closet doesn't need to be ironed.  Not that I iron anyway.... I just throw it back in the dryer with a damp cloth... iron shmiron. Tenderly I put my shoes on taking care not to hurt my poor baby toe anymore than it already is then I head to the bathroom to scrub my bucks. Apparently I failed to write myself a note to buy more toothpaste because I find in the cabinet only my daughter's kid toothpaste cuddled up next to our toothbrushes. Jolly good... love that bubble gum flavored goo. Brush up and down, up and down, spit, rinse, floss, floss. Done.  Make up? Let's go with the basics today - base, blush, eye liner. Hey, that went on without a hitch! The day is looking up! Time check: 8:45 - I am on a roll!!!

Now I'm basically ready to head out the door... forget packing lunch, I'll just buy something on my break. I open my daughter's bedroom door to find her sitting on her bed criss cross apple sauce style, wrapped in the Mexican blanket she purchased on our cruise last summer. I again feel like a cartoon character.... my jaw hits the ground and my eyesballs pop completely out of my head.  All of a sudden I've lost the ability to speak coherently. "What the....what are.... how come....ARUGH!!!"  Now the cartoon steam is blowing out of my ears "GET. READY. NOW!" I scream in my not-so-motherly voice and dash out of the room before I go all Incredible Hulk on her.

I grab my purse and bag of 'stuff' that I will need for my day - lesson plans, grade book, pens of assorted colors - and head to the car to wait for my dear, dear daughter. I lay my head back against the headrest and do the deep breathing exercises I've taught to the students in my Social Skills class.  In through the nose, two, three, four. Out through the mouth, two, three, four. And again... and again... and again. Finally I feel my blood pressure coming back down from outer space. Opening my eyes I glance at the clock on the dash. 8:55. Seriously? Has my daughter drowned on her bubble gum flavored toothpaste and saliva mixture? What in the world is taking this twelve year old so long? She has no make up to put on, no contacts to jab into her eyes, no need to look professional in case the principal walks through her classroom.  Throw on clothes, brush her teeth, and clamp down her unruly curls with a headband. This should take no time at all.  I open the door and about to go in and drag her out of the house when she comes bouncing out of the house with bookbag and breakfast in hand. Daily I beg my daughter to eat breakfast to which she turns up her nose. Today, the day we are two hours and thirty seven minutes late she decides is the perfect day to fix herself breakfast. Will wonders never cease?

Finally we are on the road and heading to the school where I teach 6th, 7th, and 8th graders and where my daughter is enrolled. I think to myself that the traffic seems much different than it typically does on our drive, but then normally we are already at the school and I've been a third of the way through my day by this time of the morning. I let out a 'hmmph' and a sigh. I let myself push the speed limit and keep my eyes peeled for cops. Fortunately, I know some of their hiding spots and take my lead foot off the gas pedal in time to slow down to the posted speed. I've been lucky so far -knock on wood- that I haven't gotten behind any slow pokes. The thought has barely had time to flitter through my brain when I come upon a car going much slower than I am. And of course, it's a double yellow line for the next several miles due to the curvy nature of the road. "Come on! Come on! Come on!!" I grumble as I pound my skull against the headrest. "How many more 'downs' are you gonna give me?" I yell through the window to the beautiful clouds floating in the cerelean blue sky. Eventually we reach a passing zone where I can gun my engine and fly around the blue-haired gray-back woman scrunched behind the wheel of the '78 Caddy.

I'm no sooner past the pokey poodle when I see red and blue lights flashing in my rearview. I just want to cry. Instead I pull over to the side of the road praying he passes me by, but roll down my window and put my hands on the steering wheel where the nice police officer can see them, just in case. I close my eyes hoping that I'm really just asleep and in the midst of another ridiculous nightmare.

"Ma'am," the soft spoken officer says, "is everything okay?"

Drat.  He didn't pass by. He really does NOT want to hear the answer to that question. Now, I'm not just two hours and thirty seven minutes late, but three hours late, my baby toe is still throbbing, etherial wisps of nightmares past keep clouding my head like cobwebs in an abandoned house, my pre-teen daughter is pushing buttons and trying to cause each of my hairs to turn from a dark brown to a wiry silver, and HE wants to know if everything is okay?

"Yes, officer, everything is just fine," I manage to say. "Is there a problem?"

"Well, ma'am, I clocked you going 20 miles over the posted speed limit. Is there a reason you are in such a hurry today, ma'am?"

"Oh holy jeans!" I knew I'd been pushing the limit, but didn't know I'd so careless as to have jumped that far over the posted speed. "I'm... I'm late for work, you see. Stupid buttons on the alarm clock are too close together so we woke up later than normal, and then I hit my toe because I didn't want to be the Incredible Hulk, and my daughter turned into a sloth," shot out of my mouth, the words going almost as fast as my car had been prior to the officer pulling me over. "I just want to get to work, to the school, so I can get this day over with."

At this the officer stood up and chuckled.  Not an evil clown kind of chuckle, but a soft knowing chuckle.  He put away his ticket book, placed both hands on the window frame of my car, and smiled a bright, beautiful smile.

"Darlin'," he said, "go on back home. I'm giving you a break today."

I started to sputter that I couldn't possibly go home... that I needed to go to work... that my daughter needed to be in class. The officer raised a hand to silence me. 

"Ma'am, it's Saturday." The officer chuckled all the way back to his cruiser where he turned off his lights and pulled back onto the road, tipping his hat to me as he passed us by.

"Wow, Mom. Just wow." My daughter had been silent until now. I had almost forgotten she was even in the car. She shook her head and put her headphones back over her ears.

I sat there for a few moments thinking over my morning.  The crazy dreams. The alarm mishap. My poor broken toe. The bubble gum flavored goo and my sort of wrinkle-free professional clothes. My dear, dear daughter. The slow moving blue-haired gray-back. The kind officer with the dazzling smile. And I laughed. I laughed until tears ran out of my eyes and my stomach and cheeks began to hurt. My daughter opened one eye to peek at me then closed it again realizing I was back from the brink.

My life is an up life. I have everything I need and even some of the things I want. I have a wonderful job, a house, a car that runs, food in my cupboard, and love in my heart. Every day I feel I've been given a gift - an 'up' gift. There are just those 'down days' in any life. The best thing you can do is learn to let it go, laugh, and know that everything is going to be OK.