Hold on to your knickers, kiddies, because mama just went shopping!

For a new template, anyway.

I would love to say that I am a master of artistic design. Sadly, I am not. I like to think I am sometimes, but other than drawing cartoon dogs or hacking together a banner for my blog in a pitiful attempt at self-importance, I come nowhere near Van Gogh. It could be that I'm too busy parenting to be good at much of anything. It's a worthy excuse, anyway.

I needed something new and fresh around here. Something to liven things up. To pick me out of my little slump. It has something to do with massive snowbanks flanking both sides of my driveway after yet another snow storm. The fact that Gutsy has been acting like a child from the "best of" files of Super Nanny is another reason for my gloomy outlook. Then, there's the ear-infected, teething Spawnling who has only recently turned the corner and started acting like his old self: busy, but out of my arms and off the breast for more than five minutes. It's like a bloody miracle.

Oh, and one of my least-favourite people in the world is expecting a baby and it makes me angry that I'm not pregnant, too.

I spilled the beans to Geekster last night: "She's having another baby and I'm not and it's not fair."

"But I thought you didn't want another baby," retorted a puzzled husband.

"I know I said that. But now I'm not sure." I explained. "See, she has three girls and I have three boys and she's always wanted boys and I know this because she goes on and on about how great girls are and told me how my boys aren't going to be there for me when I get older like girls would be, which is an obvious overcompensation, and cycled through all of her friends' boys thinking there was something wrong with them when in fact they were just acting like boys but she wouldn't know that because she doesn't have any boys and I'm glad she doesn't have any because she'd just mess them up because she's such an anti-man kind of person but I think that's because she's always wanted a boy. She was convinced all three of her girls were boys in-utero, you know."

"... And this has something to do with you because...?" Geekster slid his office chair away from me ever so slightly. He was moving closer to the phone. The one he could call the nut house with. Although it would take them a while to get over here as there was a massive snow storm raging outside. Meanwhile, I was raging inside. Poor Geekster.

"Well, it has something to do with me because, um... Because what if she's right, ok? What if my boys don't love me when they get older? What if all my friends with girls are out shopping and having breakfast and being all supportive with each other and all that crap, and I'm waiting at home for a stupid Mother's Day card? And meanwhile, my stupid judgmental ex-friend has her stupid three girls AND her boy that she's always wanted? Where's the justice in that?"

Geekster has a really great way of remaining calm when I'm throwing the crazy around. He asks the important questions, but very delicately. Tactfully. Geekster is an artist of crazy wife tact. "So what are you saying, exactly? That you want to have another baby so we can maybe have a girl so that you won't be left alone? Do you think that's a good reason?"

"No," I sighed. Damn husbands and their damn logic.

But I'm still going to secretly hope she has another super-supportive shopping partner instead of a overall-wearing abandoner. That'll show her.

And to make myself feel better, I put a new template on my blog. I have no idea how that's actually going to make my illogical feelings go away, but it's a lot cheaper than my Theramistress, whom I can't afford to see at the moment.

That's right. I can't afford therapy lately. Was it that obvious?