Good morning, I guess. (confession: I don't really think it's a good morning at all, but I am trying- half-heartedly- to fight the feeling I have of wanting to crawl back into bed and hide) I am really tired this morning, and far grumpier than I would like to be at the start of the week. I woke up with a stiff neck and a blinding headache. Not surprising after I fell asleep on the couch last night with wet hair and no blanket. A crappy end to a not-so-great day. Yesterday was a day of small disasters, all day long. I splashed bleach on one of my favourite skirts (seriously... why was I mopping the kitchen floor while wearing that? what an idiot), Sawyer knocked over a cup of coffee, all over the back of the couch and his nicest Gymboree t-shirt, I sliced open my knuckle on a crazy sharp knife, my parenting skills left a lot to be desired... need I go on? Maybe not, if I don't want to depress myself further. So, I won't mention that we haven't found anybody yet to rent our suite (and I'm freaking out about money), that I still don't have childcare lined up for Dylan for September, that I hate myself for gaining 5 pounds and not having the will power to just stop eating ice cream already.
Oof. It's one big pity party over here this morning. I'm sorry. Hopefully I'll be back this afternoon with happy tales of our morning at the park, cheerful and well-caffeinated and more myself again. I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, will attempt to get these little monsters out the door while repeating the above mantra to myself over and over until I believe it. Wish me luck.
image via here