...And I'm not talking Christmas.

I had a coffee with a friend this morning, another coffee with a friend this afternoon, and a quick and efficient shopping trip between those two social events.

My children are all home, safe and healthy, and have only had one major fight in the last 90 minutes (a good afternoon, I'd say)

While I haven't lifted a finger except when it's been gripped around a mug, my house is not filthy; Not spotless, but not filthy.

And I am eating chocolate.

I should be really happy. And I am not.

Why? Because I'm PSMing, that's why. It's making me moody and sleepy and weepy. I'm worried about report cards, I'm concerned about money, and I'm stressed about the fact that I don't have a decent pair of slip-on shoes. Everybody needs a decent pair of slip-on shoes. Life isn't fair, dammit!

I'm feeling fine, body-wise. I don't have the flu like I thought I might. I don't have anything but a consistent feeling of wanting to scream and/or cry into a pillow. And maybe I want to hit some things. And perhaps yell at some people for good measure. Maybe I'll find someone to take this out on, like the people that invented "child safety seals" on caps. Ever seen what a naked crazy-glued toddler looks like? I have. It's not pretty.

Gutsy got his first report card home today and it wasn't so great. He technically failed 1st term French by three points, and scored below class average in practically every subject. This means he passed, but barely.

As I've mentioned previously, this is Gutsy's first year in a French immersion class. We had placed him in the English stream last year because of his hearing loss, but realized over the summer that he would likely need more of a challenge. Now I'm rethinking that.

Except I'm not, really. I know this is a bump in the road and that he's working really hard. By the end of the year, he's going to be a rock star in the immersion world. That pessimistic view is PMS Maven talking, and she is one negative little bitch. She likes to draw unhappy conclusions in life and whisper them in my ear for two or three days every month. I would appreciate it if she left my life entirely, but I haven't figured out how to take her off my Facebook list yet.

Even Mavens have low days, folks. I know it's hard to believe, but all this - *making wild circles with my arms all around my body* - needs a perfection break sometimes. It's scheduled maintenance: every 29 days the production of Awesome comes to a halt while the machinery is oiled with sweet, chocolaty deliciousness, and reset with a 20 minute power nap.

Tonight I have a meeting with Sponsette followed by a coffee with Photo Lush. That technically qualifies as four coffee dates in one day. If that doesn't cheer me up, I don't know what will.

(Damn. I take back what I said earlier. They're having another fight. Must go. Someone pass me a pillow, will you?

To scream/cry in, of course. What did you think I was going to do with it? I'm not the murderous kind of moody. Try to keep things in perspective, ok? You're overreacting. Is it that time of the month? Want some foil eggs?)