“It’s NOT fair!”

“Ya!” Indi sobs, “It’s not!”

I bury my face in my hands and try to formulate an unbiased defense. Both my sons are on the verge of a nuclear meltdown.

“But Mom…” Eden insists with all the fervor of a tsunami, “It’s soooo not fair!” He’s stomping holes down the hallway so I follow him to his room.

“I know hunny… this may seem like its unfair, but sometimes life just isn’t…”

SLAM!

“…fair.” I sigh. I could give him a holy dissertation on slamming doors, but life according to this ten-year-old is already hell. After waiting a month for a field trip to the Capital News Centre, the twins are completely primed for a day of skating and soccer. All of us are.

“But I’m not the bad guy here,” I explain through the door. “You’re sick, hunny. I can’t send you to school with a fever.”

No angry rebuttal. No raving response. If history is any indicator, he’ll probably hate me until noon next Tuesday. I check in on Indi and the crying has culminated into a phlegmy, mucus-flying fit. Good grief, like I can send him to school like that.

I pour myself a coffee, flop on the couch and stare at the ceiling.

“No frickin' kidding,” I mutter to the crown molding, “life isn’t fair!”

Because when it comes to providence, serendipity, or the ultimate in divine timing, this day is a bust. The boys have had the entire flu season to get hit with a bug. Where was the evil, little virus when they were skulking around the house over Christmas break with more than enough idle hours to sleep the thing off? And what about me? I already have a mountain of unexecuted errands to contend with, not to mention a to-do list that spans the height and width of my frost-free Fridgidaire.

Eden coughs like a seal from the bedroom down the hall.

“Ah-huh.” I snap at the ceiling. “The cruelty of the universe.”

Now don’t get me wrong. Having to stay home from school because of the flu bug isn’t anywhere near as serious as being sick with cancer, or losing everything you own in a hurricane, or living in a country where there aren’t any schools at all. But it does still beg the question: What do you do when you’re given a shoe, but what you really, really want is the shoebox? And how do you avoid wasting an entire day feeling victimized by your circumstances or being mad at the universe, when things don’t go your way?

I take a moment for introspection and go back a few years when I traveled to San Fransisco to attend an inspirational conference by Byron Katie called “Loving What Is.” Katie’s philosophy is, “When you argue with reality you lose, but only 100% of the time.”

So what does that mean? It means that when we try to get reality to match the story we have on how life “should” be, we end up engaged in a war that does nothing but leave us angry, bitter, and feeling like a victim. It’s not the circumstances that are the problem. It is our thoughts about the circumstances that can ruin our day.

In my situation, the reality is: the kids are sick. If I spend the day telling myself the kids should not be sick, then I am only arguing with reality. If they shouldn’t be sick, then they wouldn’t be. What it comes down to is: they have a flu bug. It’s a reality. By accepting that this is reality and that any thought to the contrary can’t change this reality, I can feel less angry and resentful and more empowered to come up with helpful alternatives to deal with the situation. Could having a good day be really that simple?

In my mind, Katie presents a valid argument. How can we feel peace when mentally we're engaged in war, wanting everything to be different than it is? Her response: Only when we give up "what should be" can we experience the profound peace of "what is."

“Ah-huh.” I say to the bottom of my coffee cup. “The wisdom of the universe.”

I head to the boys’ rooms. I’m starting to feel better already.

Now who would like to help me put that in ten-year-old terms?