It happened again

I was on the mend. I swear, I was. But then I got sick again... and then The Kid got it... and one of my mom's cats is dying a slow death... and there's The Kid's birthday party to plan... and The Kid's dad to keep from killing (and, really, you have NO idea how much effort that takes)... and my evil grandmother in town... and the weeds that mark where once there was a yard...

And so I fell off the wagon and reentered a momentary warm and cozy depression. I am feeling ever hopeless, and I fear that the reality of the situation is that this single mother gig is killing me. I simply can not work, raise a child, keep track of his father, maintain a home, and reclaim a back yard all by myself. In my naivety, I had believed that the parenting thing would get easier as The Kid got older; that the diaper changing and sleepless nights and retrieving foreign objects from his mouth was the hard part. But the ugly truth is this: the older he gets, the more there is to deal with. More attitude, more homework, more summer camp, more inadequate father, more friends' birthday parties, more sleep-overs, more everything.

But, as it turns out, I love the little monster. As much as he drives me crazy, he is the only thing that keeps me sane. And so - because something must change before even The Kid isn't enough to save my marbles - I have seriously begun to consider selling my house and buying a much smaller, much less yardy condo. The only thing that keeps me from it, is the knowledge that I'd have to do a hell of a lot MORE yard work in order to put the thing on the market.

And so here I sit, feeling exhausted, inadequate, and alone, and with no idea how to fix it.

Overheard at the office

The evolution of an odd phrase as it meanders its way through one working day:

"I know my beak has some peanut butter on it."

"Now, go put some peanut butter on your beak."

"Put that peanut butter in your beak and smoke it."

Overheard at the office

"It's all about the small things, like ice cream sandwiches and swash buckles."

Speaking of which, if you know any creative types with birthdays, this might not be a bad way to go. Seemed to make one young designer very happy today. I'm partial to the CMYK jacket myself, and would own one if only it wouldn't expose me as a total poser.

Validation

The best part of a trip with the family is that, when given the choice between sleeping in bed with me or with his grandma, The Kid always chooses me.

Farewell

I'm heading out of town this weekend to take my son here, since I already screwed up the "post every day in June" thing, I'm not going to make an effort to post this weekend. I'm sure you're all disappointed.

Passing thoughts

My toaster sits on the counter. I forgot to put it away again. It's made of cheap white plastic and the catch tray always falls open, spilling bits of The Kid's daily waffle everywhere. It's a toaster I got as a gift when I got married. We were lucky enough to be gifted several toasters, though I'm pretty sure we didn't register for one. Just like the three coffee pots we received, even though neither of us drank coffee. I remember returning several toasters and I have to wonder now, if this is the one I chose to keep, how crappy must the others have been?

Overheard at the office

"I stayed up late last night working on my cat songs."