The Snowball

Have you ever noticed that a day is like a snowball rolling down a hill? Once you get out of bed inertia takes over and trying to catch the rolling ball is like trying to stop Kobe Bryant on a drive to the basket. But then maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m the only one who mysteriously loses control of her day—everyday.


Today my snowball ran down a hill, picked up mud, grass and a few earthworms before slamming into me and ruining my clothes. At least that’s what it felt like. What started out bad just kept getting worse until there was nothing left of my personality whatsoever and I could easily have nuked everyone who came near me with just the cruel look in my eyes. I’m pretty sure that’s why my husband was pretending to be asleep (at 9 pm) when I returned from a rush shopping trip because my son had to have black basketball shorts before school the next day.

I’ve heard all that garbage about how you can turn a day around by just reacting to the little annoyances of life differently, but I’ve never known a woman who could put it successfully into practice. There’s really only one logical way to react to dropping an entire gallon of milk down the driveway and it’s not pretty. Similarly there’s only one logical way to react to tripping on the pile of school junk that was dropped at the top of the stairs—especially when a bloody nose is involved. There’s also only one way to react to a report card filled with A’s—I voice a few “great jobs” and then break out my wallet since I’m stupid enough to pay for good grades. But at least my children have a decent idea what to expect in the world at large since I react to things logically and I see no reason to change that.

I cleverly hide my illogical reactions because I don’t want to confuse my kids, but mainly because they’d probably have me shipped to a lock-down mental health facility if they knew. For instance, after an especially trying day I wish my husband would get a clue and sleep on the couch. I want the freedom to do whatever I want to do without having to be concerned about him getting in my way. It’s selfish, I know, but sucky days bring out the four-year-old in me. I want my bedroom to myself so that I can watch T.V. and stay up late and surf the internet and paint my toenails without having to worry about waking him. And then, when I’m finally sick of Jimmy Fallon, I want to crawl in bed and sleep on the hump between the two canoes we’ve dug into our mattress because it’s much more comfortable—even if I take up the lion’s share of the bed.. I also tend to want to go dresser diving looking for my kids hidden candy stashes—another illogical reaction to a bad day.

Thankfully, all days are the snowball—not just the bad ones. Sometimes the snowball rolls through my to-do list with the efficiency of a computer, other days the snowball rolls pleasantly along like a scene from a Julie Andrews movie. What’s most curious is that even when I try to wrestle the day down and make it do my bidding, it presses forward with a mind of its own. And maybe life is supposed to take you for a ride because it’s not always good to be stuck in the driver’s seat—otherwise you’d never see the scenery.