I Feel Bad About ...

I've been in the Daycare Business for over 15 years (minus my three year hiatus) now. Boy ... things have changed.

I suppose the greatest change of all is 'me'. Whether I admit or accept or believe it, I suppose that I have become rigid in my expectations. I continue to walk into each and every day believing what worked for me in the past, will continue to work in the future. So I just keep doing what I have been doing. Except for one thing. It is not working. Not working well, anyway.

I cannot figure out what has happened. Do babies enter this world knowing and believing that the world revolves around them and that they are the bosses? Or do we teach them that? And even if they have been taught that at home, in my experience children adapt to new surroundings and accept new leadership and guidance from others. Except for one thing. They don't seem to care about the rules or authority figures.

Things hit a crescendo around here a while ago. There is a leadership among children and they follow what they see. If their leader is not strong in their own convictions they will follow their followers. Long story short? One year olds have been ruling the roost around here. I think that they are planning a world take-over.

I sit and I scratch my head. What am I doing wrong? Why is this cycle repeating itself again? I had a daycare family of two, 1-year-olds and one, 2 1/2 year old at the onset of my re-established daycare. A year and a half later, I have two new 1-year-olds and one new 2 1/2 year old. I am back to where I started a year and a half later.

I do not have the luxury of having the same children that I started out with. So those 'lessons learned' along the way are not being passed down the line. What seems to be happening instead, is a reaffirmation of one infraction that is taking over our household. I think that my children have a motto among themselves "The moment she turns her back, do whatever you please".

In Daycare 1.0, I had a wide variety of ages and personalities. I had quiet ones, loud ones, nurturing ones, wild and crazy ones. I had those who listened and followed my expectations and those who liked to bend and break the rules. But those who adhered to the rules of the land were a definite majority. Not to mention, I had an inside track. One of those in my care was my own flesh and blood. He was a quiet leader among all ages and I think it made more of a difference than I will ever know.

Back in Daycare 1.0, I took care of anyone and everyone who hired me. I adapted and made hard things work. In Daycare, the Sequel I have asked one child to leave (believing knowing it was best for everyone concerned) and I turned away another family that I knew was more than I could handle. Am I throwing the ecosystem off of its axis because I am not letting in a full representation of our population?

I am missing my little guy that would now be 3 1/2 years old. He was fun with a capital "F". He was a people person and brought joy into the world around him. He knew how to have fun. Unfortunately he copied inappropriate age behaviours (which wasn't terrible when he was copying those a year younger than him but definitely became an issue when it affected his toilet training, ability to count and remember how old he was). I know in my head that he needed to be around children older than him. I know this! Yet ... I miss what he brought into our days a lot of the time.

I am experiencing my annual "I cannot wait to get back out into the sunshine after an endless winter" syndrome. I will be fine as soon as I get outside and start soaking up some good old Vitamin D. But there are days that I wonder about myself. I should be better at this by now ... but they keep changing the children! I am terribly afraid that I am becoming my mother which is good in many ways. But not so great when you are a daycare provider (Mom prefers children once they reach the age of majority) ...

I talk myself through the challenging days and enjoy 'moments' whenever and wherever possible. But I could not help but feel very afraid when I was thumbing through Nora Ephron's book "I Feel Bad About My Neck" and this is the quote that I was destined to find "The world’s greatest babysitter burns out after two and a half years". This means that the previous year and a half was as good as I get or better.

Well, Nora? You have succeeded in making me feel bad about more things than my neck. Thank you very much.

I think I am going to crawl into my black turtleneck sweater now. As you say (and I fully concur on this one) "You can’t own too many black turtleneck sweaters".

(To enjoy a few more of these excerpts, click here http://www.biographile.com/growing-pains-an-excerpt-from-nora-ephrons-i-feel-bad-about-my-neck/21236/  If you enjoy that, I can lend you her book)

Wet Dish Rag Thoughts

I feel a little bit like a wet dish rag this morning. Not a lot of words spinning around in my head, not a lot of enthusiasm or gumption. I keep typing words then backtracking and erasing them. I don't know where my thoughts are headed but I think I'll just let my fingers wander the keyboard and see what they have to say for themselves...

I think that I am feeling the effects of 'the weekend past' right about now. I was interacting and around people for three days. That is a lot of socializing for a hermit like me. I think that I just wore myself out. Talking, thinking, laughing, planning. It all adds up.

I packed along my little computer for our little getaway. I am used to having unspoken words within me and I purge them here daily. Not so much this past weekend. All words were used up and spent. There are a few times that I wish I would have spoken fewer words but all in all, the speaking to listening ratio was pretty decent.

I started typing the words "I am not happy with my Daycare Provider Self" these days and then my fingers wandered off to research ideas to make this work better. I really need to find a friend for my 2 1/2 year old little girl. There is a part of me that believes that I need to become 'more of who I am' before I will attract new families into our world. Another part of me wonders if I should license my daycare to attract those who cannot afford to pay the full cost of child care. Another part of me wonders if I need to find a way to be more proactive and 'market' myself better. Another part of me is just tired ...

I woke up from a dream where I was guilty of overspending. Thankfully it was a dream and my excessive spending in real life does not compare to that which was happening in my dream. I know that my subconscious mind is concerned about my new and unimproved spending habits. I thought that there was a saying "Spend like you have the money and the money will follow" but I think I was wrong. I think that the saying is "Do what you love and the money will follow". Either way, I seem to be relying on the "... money will follow" part of that saying. And so far? It seems to be working for me. Go figure. It is a new spin on financial planning that I never read about in all of those financial planning courses I took over the years.

My mind has been all over the map this morning and I cannot even contain my thoughts. I seem to be in a do and go mode. I have readied our home for the Daycare Day ahead of me. I have made notations as to how to make this "... and the money will follow" continue to come true. I have been strategizing between the lines of this post and I am quite sure that there is not one cohesive thought that has ran through from beginning to end.

I think this wet dish rag feels like it has now been wrung out. I think I'll be all right when I dry out.

Reflecting and Reminiscing - A Little R & R

At the onset of my Very Social Weekend, I stopped my world for a moment and made myself promise to be quiet and listen to all that was going on around me as I was living the weekend. I did not want to wake up with a verbal hangover after it was all over. I wanted to hear the voices of others.

It was an easy promise to keep. For the most part, there was a minimum of a 'party of four'. Four is a good number. I think it is my favorite. There is plenty of room for everyone to speak and lots of space left over to sit back and absorb. And listen.

I heard so very much as I opened my ears and shut my mouth.

My conscience speaks loudly to me when I am quiet. I sat back and listened to words that had nothing to do with me directly, but were exactly what I needed to hear.

Sometimes when you wiggle and squirm and feel uncomfortable, you know that you are hearing 'a truth'. As a rule, I hear these things and an internal conversation takes place where I berate myself and 'beat myself up'. This weekend, I felt that familiar feeling but I talked myself down.

The conversation within my head went something like this:

"Yes, you are hearing the truth. Yes, you are guilty of doing this." But then, the other side of my brain consciously thought the words "This is your conscience speaking. If what you are hearing is true, change it!"

When I listen to people speak and tell their story or the story of another, I subconsciously slip myself into their shoes. How does it feel? Why do they feel this way? How would I feel if I walked around in these shoes for a lifetime?

A person simply does not know how another person is feeling, what motivates them, what touches them and what life experiences have guided them to where they are and what they did.

When I listen to the stories of people who act in unkind and unjust ways, I tend to question why they act this way. I only know life from the experiences that I have lived so I don't know too much. In my own personal experience, I know that I want to be liked and accepted for who I am. I live in a 'bubble wrapped' world which is safe and kind so my experiences and reactions come from this place of security. When I hear the stories of others who act defensively or hatefully I wonder if that comes from being raised in a place that is not safe. A place where you have no one to fight your battles, so you come up fighting and see who is left after the fact. I try very hard not to judge what I do not know. But what do I know? When I hear these stories second, third and fourth hand, I have not been the one who has been directly 'hit' so I have the luxury of stepping back and wondering.

I listen to stories of loss and try as I might, I do not have any idea what it is like to walk in the shoes of someone who has faced devastating losses. I can only guess and wonder and listen. The writing that I have been drawn to lately has been about living after loss. I am gaining empathy by reading the honest and brutal words of people who have faced unimaginable losses. I believe that this has helped me gain a perspective that I wouldn't have otherwise. So I just keep listening. I love listening to the stories that people tell about a loved one who is no longer here to tell their own stories. It is music to my ears.

The long and winding road of living life is not a straight and narrow path. It is a road filled with potholes, detours and dead ends. It is a steep and slippery slope at times. It is a roller coaster ride filled with thrills, chills and unexpected turns.

I sat back and listened a lot this past weekend. I heard so very, very much. I hope that memories of these days-well-spent come back to me when I need them the most. I hope that everyone who was a part of the memories feels exactly the same way.

As I try to tell the story of my dad's family, I am not only collecting memories. I am trying very hard to put it all into perspective and tell the story from a wide angle lens on one hand, yet up close and personal on another. It is a little bit like the weekend that I just lived. I stepped back and listened. I sat still and absorbed. And I hope when the stories come off of my tongue, they do the memory justice. That is exactly what I hope for with my Book Project.

A Gifted Weekend

I am so full that it almost hurts. Almost. I have returned from the most fun-filled, thought provoking, entertaining, fulfilling weekend ...

It all started just a little ahead of schedule. Just before my Daycare Day wound to a close on Thursday, My Sister arrived and the first leg of our Fun-Filled Weekend would begin.

My Sister got me through the last half hour of a particularly challenging Daycare Day. She was the most fun, interactive toy that my daycare family has ever found within the confines of our daycare home. They were thrilled. I was thrilled that they were thrilled. I am not certain that My Sister was as thrilled as we were but she certainly faked it well if she wasn't.

My Sister joined my family for supper. Then the two of us were left on our own and we visited throughout the evening. We woke up the next morning and by 8:30 a.m., we were headed out the door towards our Weekend Adventure.

We picked up Our Aunt before we left the city. Every family should have an aunt like our aunt. Maybe every family does. But I don't think so. I think we are pretty lucky that she married into our family. She makes life richer because of the way she sees, absorbs and reflects the world. She is a kaleidoscope of everything I enjoy in a person. And I could tell that I was not alone. I believe that Our Aunt was instrumental in bringing out the best in all of us and it was a gift (quite literally) to have her join us for our Weekend Adventure.

We drove for an hour and a half and our next stop was to join my Second Sister. She arrived at our rendezvous point minutes before we did. And that was exactly how our weekend continued to unfold. We were exactly where we were meant to be, when we were meant to be there (other than all of those yellow lights that we kept hitting which must have meant that we were running just slightly ahead of schedule at one point of our travels).

Four (or so) hours after that, we were on Our Mom's doorstep. We knew exactly how much of a gift it was to bring Our Aunt along with us, so we pinned a ribbon (and little Happy Birthday sign) to Our Aunt's lapel and had her go ahead of us and ring the doorbell to present Our Aunt to Our Mom as our gift. Mom did not understand our gesture or appreciate her gifts one at a time, because she peered out beyond Our Aunt to find the rest of us (just like a kid who rips opens their first gift and doesn't take time to stop and savor it before they tear into the next). That is not to say anything negative about Our Mom. It is to say that Mom was a little bit like an excited child because she was excited to open all of her gifts right away. And that would be us. Her daughters.

It was all precious and special. Our weekend went on to include Our Brother and His Daughter joining our party and taking Mom out for a birthday supper. It was almost anticlimactic to leave the magical environment of Mom's home and family setting to go out and eat a meal. It may have been the only thing that was less than ideal about our enchanted weekend. It brought us down to earth, broke the spell and displaced us for the duration of our meal. But Everything Good was sitting there waiting for us back at Mom's house when we returned.

And that ... was just the beginning. There was more. There was so much more.

But for this very moment in time, I just want to breathe it all back in again one small moment at a time. So I shall stop here and inhale. If the weekend had stopped right there it would have been enough. I am very happy and content with 'enough' but there were more gifts hiding around the corner.

Stay tuned...

The Mother You Used to Know

My Middle Son and I sat down and had a heart-to-heart chat the other day. You know what they say about the truth? They are right. It hurts.

I walked away from that chat feeling a little bit wounded. I have let the scratches heal on their own. I haven't scratched, picked or made anything bleed anew. I simply applied a little 'antiseptic' (talking with a friend who knows me better than I know myself heals my soul) and I am back.

The words that hurt me? "You aren't the mom I used to know. You used to worry about these things (money, retirement planning, the future). You used to care about these things (about the paint that is chipping off the corners of our walls, the broken window in the garage, the caulking that needs to be replaced in the bathtub). You used to be independent and relied upon no one but yourself (before I had my son, his girlfriend and their two dogs move in with me four and a half years ago).

He has a word for what he thinks that I am. Depressed.

Well my son, I have sat back and absorbed, felt and processed your words for several days and this is what I have come up with: "No. I am no longer the mother you used to know. I am better."

Why am I better when I no longer worry or care and I depend upon another adult being from time to time? Because I have figured out the great mystery of life. It all works out in the end (and ... if it hasn't worked out, it is not yet the end).

I no longer worry, sit and fret about all the ifs, ands or buts in life. Life happens. It is a waste of energy to sit and fret about that-which-has-not-yet-happened.

Life happens.

I have spent the better part of my life budgeting, planning and worrying about my financial future. As the sole provider of my family, I guess that is part of the job description. Those were the days where I said, "I can afford to retire and I can afford to die. I just can't afford to live." They were the most restrictive years of my life.

I started spending and started to live. It was the answer to all that ailed me. What is the sense in having a retirement plan and money to fund it if you spend all the years leading up to those golden years stressed to the max? From what I have seen, too much unrelieved stress (often) leads to illness. I am not going to be one of those statistics. If I die young, I want to know that I lived my best life while I was living and breathing. If I live forever, I want to build an interesting and fulfilling life and strive to continue to be interested and fulfilled as the years go on. This means good things for you, my son. Because I am not barking at you for not conserving power/heat/water, rent and replacing casserole dishes. It's only money. I am much more concerned that we come out of the other side of this living arrangement and still like each other.

I used to care about too many little things. I used to clean the house from top to bottom with the mantra "If I die tomorrow, I don't want anyone to think I'm a slob". I used to get angry when anyone messed up my clean house. Do you know what, my son? You could not live with the old me because I would have created such a scene when the dogs started destroying that-which-was-good-enough. I would have flipped out each and every time you messed up 'my kitchen'. I would rant about the dog hair, the dishes, the extra dirt, the back entrance .... Not only would you not want to live here any longer, our relationship would suffer, I would walk around with a chip on my shoulder and let my anger define me. Instead? I look at that-which-drives-me-crazy and I say "I don't care ... I don't care ... I simply don't care anymore ... It just. Doesn't. Matter!" It is saving my sanity. And yours.

I spent the first 31 years of my adult life wishing that I could depend on someone. But I couldn't. It all boiled down to me-taking-care-of-myself. And my children. Certainly, I did not do this entirely on my own. I had back-up to help relieve some of the pressure from time to time. But the little things? Mowing the grass, shovelling snow, general house and car maintenance and all the little things it takes to run a family? It was mine. It was all mine. All of the time. Then you moved back home. And you picked up my slack. And I loved it!! I relaxed for the first time in (what felt like) forever and enjoyed the sensation of having someone share the load with me. Did I come to expect more and appreciate less? Guilty as charged. I did. I admit it. Sorry. Did this happen in and around the same time that your anticipated move date kept moving into the distant future? I would guess that there may be a correlation. That is no excuse. But please accept it as part of the reason that I am no longer vying for the title of Independent Woman of the House. Been there, done that. Will do it again.

Am I depressed? No more than you or anyone else on the street. Do you sense something is off when I sequester myself to the back corner of the house to recharge myself and then you go and read one of my (many) blogs which may depict a depressed stated of mind and then add it to all of the above? Maybe.

I am not perfect. I used to try to be. That person used to be your mother. I wore myself out and beat myself up and kept trying and trying but I never attained the height that I had set for myself. I have evolved to the stage of my life where I am happy to simply be 'enough'.

I worry enough to get that-which-needs-to-be-done, done. I care enough to get through the day and fulfil the parts of me/life that need filling up the most. I am independent enough to know that I can lean a little bit and still be self reliant. I feel enough to empathize with you when you are feeling 'life' strongly.

Life is full of ups and downs, highs and lows, ebbs and flows. I used to expect more out of life, out of myself and out of you. I have let all of us off the hook and I am content and relaxed enough to just go with the flow and trust that it will all work out in the end.

Who did you think I used to be, My Son? The perfect person that I wanted to be (but never was)? I know that you used to be proud of the way I rolled with life's challenges and was resilient to that-which-was-hard. I roll a little differently these days. The life of hard knocks has given me a bit of a reprieve lately and I haven't had to come up fighting. I am content living the 'easy' life. I am glad that you are a part of that life.

It is challenging for one and all when adult children move back home. We have weathered many storms and I know we will weather this one as well. I just hope that we all remember all that we have learned during this time. Because you just never know when I'll be moving in with you!

I may not be the mother that you used to know. I'm a little softer around the edges. I am more pliable. I am a little more relaxed. I trust that you and I are both exactly who and where we are meant to be right now (but let's hope that it isn't forever, okay??).

Night Blogging 1.0

This is my first instalment of night-blogging. This is a novelty. It feels a little bit fun. I feel like my fingers could say more than I want them to say. But I'm just going to roll with it. Shall we do a little night-blogging without editing, just to be fun? I am feeling tired as I wrote that. This may not take long ....

First off, the idea to write in the early morning was a good one. The only bad thing was that I needed to do some troubleshooting before I started. My word program shut down and I had three 'repaired copies' to deal with. This sounds tedious and boring. Trust me, it was. I was fifteen minutes 'in' to trying to properly save only ONE copy of one of the three documents that had been repaired (zzzzzzz ... if I am not falling asleep, anyone out there who may possibly read this is most likely dozing off now).

Okay. Writing at night may not be a good thing. I just deleted a paragraph and the paragraph preceding this one doesn't sound worth saving either. I just kept it in because I thought something about all of those zzz's was amusing. Yes. I am tired.

Today was 'a day'. I am not proud of the way I handled things. I am losing the battle with my one-year-olds and I am not sure how to get the upper hand. I have never been done in by someone so young before. The children are taking over my home. I am afraid. I am very afraid ...

The count down is on for our sister/aunt getaway to join our brother/sister-in-law/Mom/and cousin. Oh, the fun we will have! My fun starts tomorrow at supper time. My sister is coming for supper and sleeping over so we can get an early start the next morning. Then ... we pick up my aunt. Then my other sister.

Approximately six or so hours later, we will arrive at Mom's. On her birthday. I love how this all happened to come together on her birthday. It wasn't orchestrated to happen. It just did. It was meant to be.

There will be a birthday supper event. There will be much visiting. I can hear the laughter already. I can feel the good, positive vibes emanating from our group. I don't have high hopes ... I just know how things usually play out whenever we get together. There is the language of family that transcends all. And it is good.

The following day, will be the icing on the cake. Mom wasn't too interested in the dinner theatre part of the weekend (thus, we invited our aunt along so that they could have their own quiet evening of visiting without us loud 'kids' interrupting their conversation), so all of us siblings, plus our sister-in-law and cousin are not only going to a dinner theatre together, but we have reserved a hotel room across the street from our evening's entertainment and will be able to fully relax, have a drink or two and no one has to worry about driving.

The theatre was our excuse to get together and do this. But I do believe that it is all the visiting before, during and after the 'main event' that is what I am anticipating the most.

Okay. This night-blogging thing isn't sounding like the best idea at the moment. I stopped typing quite some time ago and I have been staring at the last words I typed, completely lost in thought as my fingers stopped moving at the same time as my eyes.

Suddenly I don't have a thing more to say. Or think. And I am considering deleting this post in its entirety but I think I will leave it, just to see how it sounds in the morning. Perhaps if I didn't write so much about writing this post, it may have had a chance.

On the other hand, I am sitting here thinking of things that are not on my to-do-list, that should be. So I shall add them here, since I have a computer at my fingertips and my to-do-list is in the living room.

• email my cousin
• confirm hotel reservation
• recheck what we need to get into the dinner theatre
• check the car's antifreeze level

If this is not the most inane, disjointed post ... I don't know what is. I am sorry. Things can only get better, right?

See why my Book Project is not getting written at night?

G'night...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Missing in Action

I have been MIA here for the past little while. It has been a combination of no words, not enough time, words that were not ready to be published and just a bit of a 'funk' going on underneath the clutter in my mind. Not necessarily a bad funk. Just not the 'me' I aspire to be. We all have days like that. Right!?!??

And that, my friend, is the basis of all-that-I-am-feeling right now.

I am quite certain that I am not the only one who goes along with the ebbs and flows of life. Most of the time, life is a little bit unremarkable. You show up. You do your best. You win some. You lose some. Then you try, try again.

The try, trying again part can feel all consuming some of the time. Other times it can fuel and invigorate you. Does it depend on the moon, the stars, endorphins (or the lack thereof), hormones or a myriad of other underlying issues?

I think more often than not, it is simply that 'last straw' that breaks us. All that preceded that 'last straw' is invisible to those who don't see all, know all and feel all that we know about ourselves.

Do we all carry a little load upon our back from day-to-day or is it just me?

The load consists of the things I need to do, the things I should do, that which I want to do and reality - that which gets done.

The obstacles are many. Time, money, enthusiasm, energy, motivation to name a few.

Then there are the mental blocks. I have many. I can almost hear the KA-CHUNG of iron doors slamming shut within my mind when it comes to that-which-I-procrastinate-over-the-most. I recognize that most of my obstacles are not obstacles. They are excuses. I keep saying the words out loud so that my voice can get it through my thick skull to STOP and DESIST that negativity which is standing in my way. It is sort of starting to work. Sort of.

I have a huge weight upon my shoulders and I am not doing a very good job of shifting the weight so that I can deal with it in small increments. I know what has to be done. Instead of tackling it one small stone at a time, I seem to walk in and think that I have to deal with the entire boulder. And it is too heavy.

I have a tentative plan but it will affect my daily musings here...

Morning is the time of day when my brain is busy and active. Positive neurons are firing around in my head after a good night's sleep and I feel the most invincible that I am going to feel all day. In the morning.

Some days? I'm not too invincible. But whatever coping strategies I have at the onset of the day are quite often the very same ones that carry me through the rest of my waking hours.

I am also beginning to see the correlation between my weekends and my weekdays.

I need a certain balance of 'something' within my weekends to sustain me through the remainder of the week. I believe the exact formula changes with the tides but I do know that solitude, quiet and down-time are a must. Thus, you will find me quarantined in a quiet corner of the house gathering my thoughts, my energy, my drive and all that it takes to propel me forward. I am not depressed. I am nourishing myself in ways that others may not recognize. The more depleted I feel, the less I do back in my little quiet corner of the world.

The need for quiet may be forfeited if I am nourished in other ways (my upcoming weekend, for example ... I will write more about that another day). I am already forecasting that I will feel more energized than depleted at the onset of next week. The only energy-drain will be the knowledge that I must work the weekend that follows that one. But energized by the fact that the Easter weekend follows thereafter...

I am better off not knowing what lies ahead. I think that I know what to expect but I don't. I can put myself into one of these little 'funks' by forecasting three weekends ahead of time and end up being completely off the mark on all counts. I believe this is why I prefer to be spontaneous. But spontaneous doesn't work a lot of the time. Thus, I must plan. Planning depletes me (do you see a vicious cycle happening here?).

Yesterday was not a perfect day. I took that-which-I-had-planned-to-do on Sunday and placed it into a Daycare Day where I was supposed to be focused on my little people. Add that to the fact that I think that my little daycare family was also influenced by their own weekend (tiredness and new old and unimproved behaviours prevailed) and it was not a winning combination.

Today is a new day.

I woke up before my alarm. Not only that, but I got out of bed and was making it when my alarm went off. This is always a good sign.

I decided to 'Just Write' this morning. Little editing has gone into this little purging of my mind. Just undiluted thoughts that strayed off the course that I had in mind when I sat down to write.

The reason I chose the title 'Missing in Action' was not only to account for the missing days here ... but to put My Plan out here for the world to see. I may continue to be MIA for an undetermined amount of time. This is my goal...

I plan to take my early-morning-brain and put it to work on my family Book Project. It is the only way that I can see getting this done.

By the end of the day and a lot of weekends, I am depleted. My little quiet oasis in the back of the house is beckoning to me (I can almost hear it call ... yes, you should probably call the men in white coats to come and take me away now). So that is the point in the day when I will come here (to my blog) to write (if I am not wrapped up and enthused about my progress in the Book Project) and debrief.

My workday has just intruded on me. The real world has barged in before it was invited and I am not liking the way I am feeling about it. I must stop this feeling now before it influences my day ...

This is why I like my room-with-a-door. I feel the need to retreat but instead, I must get dressed and face the day. With one extra 'moody girl' like me ...

Image credited to dumpaday.com