Did you ever pitch a “no hitter” day as a mom?
Look, I don’t watch or play ball, but I think that in the sports world, a no hitter is a game in which the pitcher executes every pitch so pitch-perfectly, that the opposing team can’t hit a single one. Or score. Or something. At least that’s the definition I’m going with.
Somedays are tough with kids from the get-go. They wake up too early/cranky/sick/demanding and every move from there on in is fraught with difficulty. These days are exhausting and stressful and leave you craving coffee/wine/a desert island by two p.m.
But then there are these other days. These other, unexpected, golden days. Everything just flows. There are no struggles with the kids or spouse. Maybe there is an errant tantrum, but even that is managed with ease and grace. Difficulties are readily redirected.
Sure Emily wet her pants twice, Jack spilled chocolate milk on his freshly washed gi, and the Hubz was late getting home. It didn’t matter because we were all in this state of blissful relaxation, getting along with one another in such a kind, friendly way. The kids listened and cooperated and even got along with each other! They ate their dinner without complaining, and for once, we all sat at the table and ate the same freaking meal! Oh and also the kids didn’t hit each other, or me, giving a double meaning to “no hitter!” (See what I did there?) These days are total sweet spots. They are the cool spot on the pillow on a hot night. They are a butterfly alighting on a purple flower on a sunny day that is not too hot and not too cold. They are the perfect game.
These are the days you take a selfie with your amazing kids, post it on social media and make everyone instantly jealous because you are living such an awesome existence.
These are the days that keep you going, give you hope and sustenance. They make you feel, even for a little bit, that you are not totally sucking at this parenting thing.
They don’t happen everyday, but when they do. . . oh, man. . . Like I said, I don’t play baseball, but if I did, I can only imagine this feeling I have, tucking my feet under me on the couch at the end of the day with my babies sleeping peacefully a few doors down, is what it feels like to walk off the field after pitching a perfect game.