I have been in a catastrophically bad mood. All day. I have tried, desperately to shake it, but it seems to still have the better of me. I convinced DH to haul Bean on a hike up the mountain through the first fallen red leaves. I took note of the bright blue sky. Munched a fresh-picked apple and ate potato chips on the bank of an old beaver pond. Watched the light angle through the quivering leaves. And still, I felt like crying. Everything makes me cry. Everything makes me surly. Every word angled carelessly in my direction. Everything, including the bin of maternity clothes DH fished out of the basement for me, and all I could think as I looked through them was, "dear lord, these are all hideous fat clothes." Even though they're not. Even though there are some pants in there I entirely forgot about that are not half bad at all.
To make matters worse, Bean has been a monster today. There have been maybe five days in his entire life where I didn't like him very much, even as I love him desperately to bits, and today was one of them. Everything I asked him to do was met with tantrums. Sweatshirts have become a heated issue. He hates them. Yet he must wear them. It makes going out of the house a royal pain.
The only redeeming thing about Bean's mood (which matched mine, I know, this fact is not lost on me) was that he drew a picture of a monster today on his easel, and the picture could just as well have been a self portrait with three googly eyes, a whole mess of teeth, a big slobbery tongue and four ears. Oy.
I have resorted to ice cream. I have not yet eaten said ice cream, but it is my only hope that any small shred of the day might be salvaged.