I’ve never had a BAD day in my entire life.

Oh, I’ve had SAD days and ANXIOUS days and STRESSFUL days… sometimes moments or minutes or hours so overwhelming that they almost consume you.

But BAD?  Like when someone says, “I had such a BAD day.” No.  Never.

So why am I writing about this?  Well, yesterday had its share of BAD moments… that all seemed to start with BAD HAIR.

First, summer is not a good time for my particular hair.  My hair is naturally curly, and I was born at precisely the WRONG time for curly hair.  I guess it was OK when I was a baby because my Mom did some cute little things with hair ribbons and barrettes and such  to make my baby photos look kinda cute.  But from then on, STRAIGHT HAIR was in vogue.  My pre-teen and teenaged years were spent ironing my hair (more like singeing with a real flat iron), straightening with huge rollers (including soda cans… try sleeping with those on your head), and basically wishing I had naturally straight hair.  Like Cher.

My Mom gave me no sympathy because she has pin straight hair and, of course, always wished for naturally curly hair.  Like mine.  Go figure.

By the time BIG CURLY hair came into fashion, I was a wife and mom and English teacher.  I didn’t have time to comb my hair, never mind get my nice big curls all super-sprayed and hot-looking.  I can just hear the questions… “Honey?”  “Mom?”  “Mrs. Couto?”  Nope. No Flash Dance look for me.

Now, straight hair is totally back in again.  And I’m stuck with curls.  Summer curls.  I’ve grown used to my hair and I even like it on occasion… but yesterday was more that a BAD HAIR DAY.  It was a DREADFUL, HOPELESS, EVIL HAIR DAY.  I had washed my hair Sunday night, put it in a ponytail and slept on it.  First mistake.  I awoke to waves and curls and curly ANTENNAE.  I’m not kidding.  I had curly ANTENNAE sticking up in front, in back, on the sides.  I tried to straighten it with a straightening iron.  Second mistake.  That just made STRAIGHT ANTENNAE.  I tried to whip it all up into a ponytail, but the antennae multiplied.

Then it was too late to do anything more because Audrey was on a train to New York City and I had promised to take William, Alexander and Benjamin to the pool club for the morning.  So off I went with my EVIL hair.  I text messaged Matt that I was on my way… but realized that I didn’t have any cash on me.  The pool club has a little snack bar that Audrey rarely uses (the $ thing), but I wanted to treat my little guys to something decadently fun… like M & M cookies before 9:00 am.

I detoured to Main Street to hit an ATM (not hit as in rob, of course).  I actually drove into one bank parking lot where there’s a nice drive-thru ATM, but I knew I would be charged a fee and my frugal side got to me, so I headed a couple of blocks further to my bank.  This bank has a step-out-of-your-car, walk-up-a-ramp, unlock-with-your-card ATM… and I had on only my bathing suit and a little pair of shorts and my EVIL hair… but no-one was around… so…

… I jumped out of my car, ran up the ramp, unlocked the door and was immediately hit with a 900 degree ATM vestibule.  OK.  This is for the grandkids, I reminded myself. I put in my card.  I was sweating bullets.  The magic-card-money clicking noises went on a bit too long.  I was ready to pass out.  This is for the grandkids. ClickClickClickClick.  Where’s my money? Oh, no.  Two more cars had driven up behind me and two people were standing outside the locked door of the money sauna.  Then the clicking stopped and on the screen were these EVIL words:  TEMPORARILY OUT OF ORDER.

WHAT?  I waited for my card to pop out.  It didn’t.  I frantically pressed my pin number and sweat was pouring from my brow and I was panicking because that is the only credit card I carry. I waited another minute or two and then needed to get out of there.  I told  the two people waiting that the machine was out of order and it had eaten my card.  The next guy in line said that it is out of order almost every Monday morning… and he stormed off.  The next woman left, too.

Now I had EVIL hair, no credit card and no cash for some delectable little treats.  (And I would have to go back to the bank later in the afternoon to get my card back… hopefully.)

I was not going to let this Evil Hair Day get the best of me.  I called Barry.  He told me to pick up the boys and he’d meet me in Cranston with some cash.  I did.

Finally, we arrived at the pool.  I got William settled into his swim team practice and I took Alex and Ben to the kiddie pool.  I love arriving at the pool early in the morning because we’re the only ones in the kiddie pool.  Yesterday was no exception.  It was lovely.  I (almost) forgot all about my hair.  Alex swims like a fish and he was gliding and cruising and gleefully happy.  Benjamin, who just turned 3 in April, had begun to swim last Friday.  Audrey was rather surprised at this and even sent us videos of him jumping into the big pool, over his head, and swimming to the side.  Benjamin put on a little show for me yesterday…  swimming under water and popping up and just having the time of his life.  The one problem with Ben is that he has very, very sensitive skin and he cannot even tolerate swim goggles.  Audrey has to get him some latex-free goggles… but she hasn’t had the chance since he decided to teach himself to swim.

Alex and Ben swam and swam together in the kiddie pool.  Until… until I heard a piercing scream.  There is a big step at the deepest part of the kiddie pool and Benjamin, without the aid of goggles, had swum right into it.  Head first.  I ran to the step, picked him up and saw the immediate red blotch on his forehead.  He was screaming.   I rushed him to the first aid station where Beth, a lovely lifeguard, immediately cracked open an ice pack and told Ben to keep it on his forehead.  Ben loves Beth… well, she is awesomely friendly and happy and just happens to be beautiful, too.  So Ben listened to Beth.

Of course, with an injury comes a request.  “Can we have our M & M cookies now?” Ben asked.

“Yes.  Yes.  Yes,” I said.   And we did.  Alex and Ben and me.  I knew William would be asking for his treat after swim team practice, so we just sat and ate and watched the kids practice… EVIL HAIR and all (I could see my HAIR in every pair of sunglasses worn by every person who spoke to me).

I am not a superstitious person, but I do remember thinking of that old saying about Bad Things Happen in 3’s. I thought: 1) EVIL HAIR; 2) card-eating ATM sauna; and 3) forehead smash.  That would be it for the day.

It wouldn’t be.

When the cookies were all gone except for the crumbs, Alex and Ben and I went back to the kiddie pool where they swam and splashed and jumped again.  That’s when the pool club manager and head swim coach came over to the kiddie pool and told me that someone had put too much chlorine in the pool and maybe it would be a good idea to NOT swim in it.  But.  But.  But.   They had been in the kiddie pool already… Alex and Benjamin with his extremely sensitive skin and eyes with no goggles.

Alex understood why they had to get out of the pool.  Ben did not.  He stood in the center of the kiddie pool and screamed, “I don’t want to get out.”  By now more people had arrived at the pool club and every eye turned to me and my lack of grandparenting skills.   Or was it my HAIR they were looking at?

Anyway.  I had to go into the pool to retrieve Ben.  By then, swim practice was over and Alex and Ben’s swimming lessons were set to begin.  William got his M & M cookie and watched from the picnic area as Alex hopped into his lesson and Ben DID NOT.  No.  Ben wanted to take a lesson with 4-year old Alex because, as he announced, “I can swim like Alex.”

And yes, he can swim like Alex.  But Alex can swim.   Ben wanted to jump off the side of the pool.  I said, “NO.” And he cried for 30 minutes.  Straight.  Loud.  To the point where two mothers actually came up to me, sympathetically, and asked if there was anything they could do for me.

Or maybe they were referring to my EVIL HAIR.  And that’s when I began to blame my HAIR for all this stuff.  Wouldn’t you?  I mean… the HAIR.  The ATM.  The forehead injury.  The super-chlorine.  The lesson.

When William finished his cookie, he tried everything to get Ben to stop crying.  (All this time, I had Ben in a hand-lock because I knew he would find a way to jump into that big pool.)  Finally, William hit on THE PLAYGROUND.  Ah.  THE PLAYGROUND.  Ben’s tears stopped like magic and I told him we’d go to the playground when Alex was done with his lesson.  It worked.  Thanks, William.

And I did take them to the playground, which is down a little hill and awesome to play on.  There were other kids down there, too, which was a total bonus.  I settled on a nice, shady bench… hoping no kids would actually notice my EVIL HAIR.  And within seconds of that nice shady settling, the sky turned from brilliant blue to calamitous gray and BAM!  Thunder.  Lightning ripping across the sky.  I said, “Run, guys!” as the lifeguards were calling up that little hill, “CLEAR THE POOL!”

We made it to my car and huge raindrops began to fall.  It poured.  It was a drenching rain.  A relentless rain.  A half hour drive in a torrential downpour. With Ben crying that he didn’t get to play on the playground, and his eyes turning chlorine-induced redder by the minute.

I dropped the boys off at home and then had to set out to retrieve my ATM-devoured credit card.  In the drenching rain.  You would think I had a history of bank robbery by the way I was questioned about getting my card back.  One bank teller wanted to know what time I was there, details of the ordeal… and she studied my license like she didn’t think it was me.  Oh.  The HAIR was different. I did get my card back.

Was all finally well on this EVIL HAIR DAY?  No.  Audrey’s train home from NYC was delayed forever because of the storms (see above… how to make a little grandson very upset), and she didn’t get into Providence until 10:30 pm.  Barry and I picked her up, and even through her exhaustion at the delays, she said, “Mom, what happened to your hair?”

“Why?”  I asked.  “Does it look BAD?” And I burst into laughter.  We all laughed.  At my expense.

And that’s OK.

So I’ve been thinking.  Did I let that BAD HAIR get on the INSIDE of my head?

‘Cause next time I have that kinda BAD HAIR DAY I’m just gonna wear a baseball hat and be done with it.