You ever have one of those days when you just never quite catch up? Today was almost like that, except it wasn’t that I didn’t catch up, more like I held on by my teeth until I thought I’d drop and I looked up and it was 8:15pm. My shoulders and neck are one hot mess, knots and twinges. And I have this overwhelming desire to stomp my feet and pout.

I’m sitting here trying to figure out what specfically caused my incredibly foul mood and I keep coming up empty. The girls were fine, wonderful in fact. I got home late and we played, tossing around a little ball and clapping and squealing at each catch. The house was easy, a quick unload and reload of the dishwasher, a pass of the vacuum, the flick of a couple of light switches and voila, cozy and bright. Sean got home on time and was in good spirits. Yet the weight of the exhausting pace of the day clung to me.

It all comes down to things beyond my control, personalities and scenarios that I just need to let go, but today I found it tougher than usual. I hate to chalk something up to pregnancy, but I think in this case, I will. I’ll acknowledge that I am weary and that with a good night’s sleep, tomorrow will hold a fresh start, a new day. There’s no shame in that, right? A bad day. A tired me.

Tomorrow’s a new day. A new me.

Good night from grouchy, sunshine’ll be back tomorrow.