Today, and actually this whole week thus far now that I stop to think about it, has been one of those weeks. You know, where you just feel like you’re in a funk and not quite depressed, but not quite your usual shiny (sarcastically) happy self.

I’m tired and feeling especially run-down and really hoping that it is still the time-change from last week catching up with me and not that I’m about to come down with a cold to herald the arrival of Spring.

That, and it’s grey and rainy here today and usually I love grey rainy weather and feeling all toasty and warm inside my cozy house, except today the weather seems to be increasing my already blue and mopey feelings.

And…after really hoping otherwise, finding out this morning that now it’s on to December for the possibility to have Owen become a big brother (on a side note: attn. girly parts–you suck).

Plus it’s a week where I feel like I’m just not living up to my potential and will I ever even manage to come close? There are so many super smart and super acheiving people in the world and sometimes it really feels like I’m two steps away from grunting and pointing as a means of communication due to my (lack of) intelligence level.

I guess what I’m really trying to say is that everything added together has just made me take a big old belly flop into the self-pity pool.

I’m sure that when the rainclouds disappear and the sun comes out tomorrow, the glass will look more half-full instead of its current state of being half-empty.

If I were going to jinx something by talking about it, I might say something like Owen slept last night from 8pm until 1am without having to cry or wake up once.

But, uh, I didn’t directly say that…so uh, it may or may not have really occured.

However, if the aforementioned possible action by a certain two-days-away-from-officially-being-20-months-old little boy did occur, it would be REALLY REALLY NICE if it wasn’t a one time fluke. ‘Cause mama’s sanity is already hanging by a very very thin, sleep deprived thread.

As you were.

I discovered Owen walking around the house this afternoon. With his hands down his pants, down into the diaper, semi-mischievious grin on his face.

I’m really hoping this is coming more from moving closer to being interested in potty training (“Hey it’s all WET in here”) and not from some random recessive Al Bundy-esque glitch in the genes.

If I catch him toting the Sunday paper into the bathroom the next time I ask if he wants to sit on the potty, I guess I know which way we’re headed for sure.