cycles

As a general rule, after having one perfect afternoon, I think a tough week is usually in order. It's the cycle of life. Opposition in all things. Remember when I said there are times I want to send my kids to the nearest orphanage? La pasada semana would be one of those times. Bruce was out of town, the kids were home from school, and - speaking of cycles - I think I'm coming up on that certain time of the month where I turn into a vengeful, caged tiger. Don't mess with this me. It was a scary turn of events. I threw a pretty rockin' pity party for myself last night. My tantrum was small, comparatively speaking, in terms of what I am truly capable. But I did hit a few pillows and may have a slight fracture in my foot from where I'd kicked the bed frame. I almost gave Bruce a whooping when he asked me if I'd read my scriptures lately, but I restrained myself with superhuman strength.

However, things were looking considerably better in the morning. I could reflect on my week with sleep and a fresh perspective. I realized there were plenty of pleasant moments to be remembered. Like watching B draw the same picture of his heart's greatest desire - a remote control boat for $200 - over and over and over again... M's crazy hair after naptime... the cinnamon-sugar toast picnic on the living room floor... snuggling with L-man during naptime... Halloween festivities... and let's not forget L's half-naked dance for me after pooping in the potty.


So not to worry. Life's good again, I'm back to my chill, appreciative self, and no one's getting sent to an orphanage. Of course, call me in a few days and I might be singing a different hormonal tune.