So that’s how I’m dealing with today. It’s the “Good News, Bad News” plan. The “glass is only half full of arsenic” approach. And this is how I’m deluding my. . . excuse me, this is what I’m telling myself:
•True, your house looks like something out of one of those scenes in a movie when CIA agents trash the place, looking for stolen microfilm (do they even make microfilm anymore?). But. . . surely everyone in the family is gaining a keen appreciation for all the work you do around here. Yes, surely they’re noticing. Surely they aren’t just making the mess greater and greater and slowly becoming acclimated to it.
•True, you don’t remember what outside air smells like. But. . . that’s really overrated.
•True, your birthday sushi dinner with your dad, aunt, husband, and kids has been canceled. But. . . that just means your cousin will be home from Portland to join you when you reschedule (even though he’s probably the one who planned all of this).
•True, your daughter’s class pet, the bearded dragon, was supposed to go back today and couldn’t because you weren’t able to help carry it into the class. So it’s apparently staying with you indefinitely. But. . . at least there’s someone in the house who looks scarier than you do.
•True, you had to crawl to the bathroom and back for a glass of water yesterday. But. . . it meant you got to miss two kid birthday parties. Two! Who said it wasn’t your birthday?
•True, the garbage disposal busted and has been leaking disgusting water underneath the sink for lord only knows how long. And you were lucky enough to find this and obsessive enough to need to clean it up while you were totally ill. And, true, you just about puked even though it wasn’t even that gross, all things considered. But. . . now you get a new garbage disposal! Which is so cool. Because that’s what you’ve always wanted. It’ll make your kitchen so much cuter. Really. No, really. No, come back. It will, I swear. . .
•True, you couldn’t order your annual sausage, mushroom, and olive pizza for Oscar night in memory of your mom (who you used to watch the Oscars with “over the phone” every year) because the thought of pizza made you want to hurl. But. . . think of all the money you saved by eating chicken soup.
•True, you probably lost about five pounds from living on Popsicles, tea, and the above-named chicken soup for the last four days. Sure, most people would love this problem. Sure, they probably hate you a little right now. The fact is, you can’t really afford to stop eating because, as your daughter says, “We won’t be able to see you soon.” But. . . now you won’t have to go shopping because you and your 8-year-old son can wear the same pants. And if you drop another 10 pounds or so, you can try out for America’s Next Top Model, Over 40 and Fabulous! (yes, I’m making that up, but you know it’s coming — in fact, some producer will probably swipe it from this blog).
•True, last night you felt so bad that you couldn’t sleep. But. . . that just meant you were wide awake when the dog came and pooped right next to your bed. So if you’d been asleep, you would’ve been guaranteed a surprise birthday present the moment your feet hit the floor. This made you feel so much better when you were cleaning things up with a flashlight at 1 a.m.
•True, you’ve spent the last few days in bed. But. . . it kept you away from the mirror, where you were obsessing over the fact that you kind of don’t recognize the person looking back at you any more. And that is the freakiest feeling ever. So being in bed was kind of like being in an ashram. Think of it as forced meditation.
So there you have it. Lessons for the start of a new year. But really, the simple truth is this: I woke up this morning to a string of happy messages on my Facebook page, voicemails from friends and family on my phone, and cards in my mailbox. And when my husband brought the kids home from school, they burst through the door, belted out “Happy Birthday,” and gave me a cherry Coke Slurpee.
And it didn’t even have one tiny trace of arsenic.
Tammy Soong is a writer, wife, and mom from Reno, Nevada. She takes an absurd amount of pain medication, but not enough to have actually named her children "Newt" and "Elfie." She spends most days stressing out over clutter, writing stuff for this place, and working on podcasts with her gal pals, the Blogging Betties.