And they all lived happily ever after

I’m just having one of those weeks where I feel like…well, like if I just opened up my mouth and started screaming for like 5 minutes at a go, that it could possibly help and make me feel better.

Owen decided starting Friday night that all the progress he’d made towards sleeping better was SO OVER and the resulting nights since have been less blissful motherhood and more wondering about a) when the next circus is coming through town and b) exactly how big of a handful of peanuts I could trade my child for. Oh, how I kid. Really though, some days this whole being someone’s mother is just so much harder and more daunting than I thought or ever imagined it would be. It isn’t that I regret having a child–already Owen is the best and most amazing thing I have ever done in my life–I just sometimes long for logic and for things to fall neatly into line just because I say so. I don’t really mind all the other minor inconveniences and irritations if we could just hammer out the sleep issues once and for all and be done with it.

I have also decided that if the plants in the garden don’t shape up soon and get it together enough to start growing instead of dying off despite twice daily waterings, all varieties of plants in the garden will henceforth be known as “Damn (fill in vegetable name here)”. Not that it changes anything, but something about muttering “damn beans” through tightly pursed lips just makes me feel the teensiest bit better. Garden, I will triumph. Even if I have to buy out the seedling section of Lowe’s three times over to make it happen.

Also, there is a very large dead bird in my garbage bin. I have made the executive decision to leave the lid off until garbage pickup on Thursday despite there being a forecast for continued heavy rain the rest of the week because of the two possible resulting scenarios for this situation, I think I’d much rather have the one that doesn’t end in extra-stinky bloated dead bird versus just stinky bloated dead bird floating in its very own coating of garbage juice.

And on that extremely appetizing note, I bid you good day.