Daytime Dread

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The other morning as Jeremy was getting ready for work I asked him if he was dreading his day. I knew he was heading to a client meeting an hour south of our house, in Colorado Springs, and then had to turn right around and drive more than an hour and a half in the opposite direction for a different client meeting in north Denver. The second meeting would be ending about the time rush hour traffic was at its worst, ensuring his commute home would take forever.

I don't think its good to dread your life, Jeremy said as finished tying his tie. There's probably something to dread about most days, but it is what it is. What's the point in dreading it? 

I thought this over as I went downstairs to scramble some eggs for breakfast. Last night's dishes were still sitting in the sink. I could hear Katherine upstairs hollering to me that she couldn't find any clean underwear. Madeleine didn't get enough sleep and was snapping at everyone in sight, and Elisabeth was sitting at the kitchen table insisting scrambled eggs are disgusting and could she please have graham crackers for breakfast.

There is, indeed, something to dread about every day.

But ever since that morning I've woken up remembering what Jeremy said. It is what it is. What's the point in dreading it? You hear those annoying "glass is half full" people constantly squawking about how happiness is a choice...but evidently they're on to something. I won't pretend that I'm suddenly all smiles about the little girl bickering going on around me, the chocolate I just found smeared on our living room carpet, or the prospect of taking three kids along to run errands today. But I'm trying not to think too long on it, to allow it to send my mood sailing south. Because tomorrow and the day after that might look much the same, and pretty soon you're not dreading your day, you're dreading your life. And when that happens, you miss out on all the good parts.