Yesterday, the day I should have written this post, was filled with oy. It's along the lines of oofta in my book, but a little more wry. How I survived, I'll never know - because yesterday's oy has already been drowned in today's. I'll tell you this, though: Three doctor's offices, two X-Rays, one fast-food breakfast, and one fast-food dinner later, somehow everything settled down into a lull as my husband read to me until I dozed off. The oy faded away ... to be overtaken by the next day's woes, to be sure - but in the night - the long, fitful, night - my memory of the day's angst grew mercifully dim. It's like that magical amnesia that takes over the moment a baby leaves one's womb and fully enters the outside world.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" I have asked my husband, in so many words, after the birth of each child. And each time, his widened eyes, heightened pulse, and clench-marked hands scream out YES! You were a WRECK!
Which is precisely what I want to avoid on days like yesterday and today - oy days in the extreme. While my memory of the offending circumstances may dim (today, for example, we could catalog a bloody nose, a poop accident, many meltdowns on everyone first day at Homeschool Co-Op, and my own personal bout with The Throat From Hell) -- others may remember my oy day much longer.
For example: Today, try as I might, I just couldn't seem to pull myself out of the misery that is my lack-of-health at the moment. My friend Katie, at Co-Op, asked me time and again if I was all right. Of course I wasn't all right! -- my demeanor and outlook spoke that loud and clear! -- but at some point, I suppose a person just has to deal with her alloted daily portion of oy and stop paying it forward to the next person. Right? Of course right!
But that's far easier said than done - which is why I christen oy to a new connotation in my library of words. Instead of reserving oy for those moments, hours, or days when I'd rather be saying something longer, maybe with four letters for example, I'll turn oy into a chance to smile. It's a silly word, after all. Who could say it and not feel just a little compulsion to chuckle? Oy. And what's even better ... is when my kids pick up the word, and in their little-child lilt utter it at random and inappropriate moments. It brings me a lot of joy to hear those carefree little voices utter something that, for me, usually bespeaks so much anxiety.
Joy: That's it! Instead of an oy day, I wonder how often I can turn these extenuating circumstances into the makings for a joy day. After all - I've still got all the blessings I had on my last super-good hair day. I haven't lost any fingers, toes, or appendages. The sun still shines, my home is intact (though atrociously messy!), and at the moment, my three precious cherubs are peacefully napping.
Oy becomes joy. I'm going to try it!
And so, you may ask, how am I doing right now, in this moment? Fantastic! I'm having a day full of oy.
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