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.

The potty training is progressing very nicely at my house. If I wanted to tempt fate, I’d say something along the lines of that there could be a very real possibility of Owen being able to wear big boy pants (during the day at least) by the end of summer. But I’m not so keen on giving fate the finger like that and inviting disaster, so we’re not saying that out loud.

In fact, just last night Owen figured out that he could make the pee^pees (hey, we’re all kinds of proper at my house) come out if he concentrated about it.

Which was really really great while he was sitting on the potty. Yay for big boy pee^pees in the potty!

However…

Not so great after getting off the potty and being chased through the living room and kitchen while I tried to catch him to wrangle a diaper on.

Have I mentioned how glad I am for hardwood this week?

The water heater (that just had the heating element replaced last fall) gave up the ghost and went to a better place sometime between 11:30pm Monday night and 4:00pm yesterday afternoon when I discovered ankle-deep water in the main room of the basement. Where many boxes labeled “Important Papers” and “Books” are also located.

The Husband is also currently out of town until next week (attention internet perverts–I do have a gun and am not afraid to shoot you on sight).

Seriously Internet? I am SO glad we are renting our house.

As a side-note, after yesterday afternoon, Owen can now say “Oh Fudge” (comes out “Oh Budge”) with remarkable feeling. Am glad that is the only new vocabulary he picked up after I discovered the lake in our basement.
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Now for the portion of our show where I try to break my arm from patting myself on the back so vigorously: In spite of all things water-related going on at my house, I still managed to finish and send the tax forms from 2005 (don’t ask unless you would like to be amazed and awed by my spectacular talent of dragging my feet) AND work through and submit on time the 2007 taxes at 10pm last night after I realized that I had my husband sign the wrong tax form before he left on his work trip. Inspiration struck as I was sifting through the IRS website for an extension form as I realized that I could submit everything online and sign electronically, bypassing the problem of my husband not being able to sign a new form until next week.

I tell you, sometimes it’s really wearing to be this much of a genius all the time. This coming from someone who had to double check that their fly was really zipped this morning because it felt a little drafty during my trip down the hill from parking lot to workplace.
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Posting might be a bit more sparse than usual around here until the first part of May. We’ve reached that fun part of the semester known fondly as “The Final Panic” also known around my house as “Oh Crap, when’s that final project that was assigned the first week of class due again?”, so I’m a little buried in all things educational for the next two or so weeks.

Don’t worry though, I’m sure to come back with some mighty entertaining stories as Owen has decided that he needs to change into Jo-Jo the Dog boy everytime we go out to run errands. Any time another shopper gets near us, Owen growls loudly enough to earn a sad pitying look at me that says “Oh you have one of those children”. Plus, I’m sure that given the way things go in my life, I’ll have at least one story of another major appliance dying/pipe bursting/my father-in-law discovering that the backyard is over an ancient Indian burial ground when he tills up my garden next week.

It’s always something around here.