We’ve all heard it, most of us have said it. As I’m lying on the littlest one’s floor, waiting for him to fall asleep, I tell myself this very same thing. Tomorrow’s another day!
It’s not been a good day today. By 11 amI wanted to back pedal and start the day again. It started early (MrM recalls 4.20 am) with a little tap from Aine and a few moments later a shout from the littlest of ‘is it morning time’ and it’s literally been downhill from there.
As I’m lying listening to the littlest whispering himself to sleep, I think about the statement, a tad too deeply one might conclude. Tomorrow’s another day. It implies that as today ends, so does its woes, and tomorrow is a fresh start. As my 6.30 alarm sounds, I will leap out of bed in my tighty whiteys, with a spring in my step and a song in my heart, riffing American Dad’s Stan Smith, ready to take on any challenge that should come my way. Not a pretty thought and not in the slightest bit likely.
Listen carefully, here comes the reality…..
Tomorrow I will wake to no bananas in my fruit bowl; a consequence of todays minor emotional meltdown in our local supermarket resulting in trolley abandonment at the self service till.
Tomorrow I will be the mother of all Mombies; a consequence of Aine sleeping off a dose of midazolam for most of this afternoon and entering the party zone at around midnight tonight.
Tomorrow I will face a mound of washing and drying; a consequence of a minor leakage accident on the sofa bed this evening.
Tomorrow I will be a complete failure at trying to please a ridiculously hard to please almost 9 year old; a day off school as a consequence of today’s seizure and siesta.
Tomorrow I will have a scabby lip; a consequence of a satisfying ten minutes picking the dry skin off of my bottom lip until it bled earlier this evening. I know. I am a Goddess.
So without wishing to labour the point, tomorrow isn’t another day. Well it is in terms of the Gregorian calendar, but really it’s just a continuation of today’s less than successful events.