A week of wine and whining.

It's only Wednesday and I'm already considering cracking a box of wine -- or four.

Clearly, it's time to dust of my favorite barometer of sanity:


It's just been one of those weeks. The highs have been high and the lows pretty damn low.

Monday was probably the worst day I've had at work in a long time. The kind of day where tears of frustration lurked just below the surface, threatening to jeopardize my image as a fairly sane, relatively competent professional.

Somehow I managed to make it home without a meltdown. Though, I don't think I've dropped quite so many f-bombs in a 24-hour period. Luckily they were all in a whiny phone call to Mark where I vented the day's frustrations.

Add to the work stuff a crazy-hectic week, full of meetings and after-school activities -- one of which we missed because I simply forgot to write it down. Very unlike me.

Sprinkle in some drama with the ex and a whole lotta poop.

Yeah, I said poop.

Which leads me to one of our ups: Libby, our 8-week old Goldendoodle puppy.

It's like having a baby -- that bites you.*

She's crazy-cute and such a sweetie and everyone fights over who gets to snuggle with her next.

But, alas, that's where the poop comes in. Potty training's a bitch.

I've scrubbed out her crate and bathed her more times than I'd care to. I know it's just for a little while, but still. After coming home from a crummy day, scraping poop off the floor is the last thing I want to do.

But then again, after the scent of Monday's puppy poo dissipated, we had a day full of potty breakthroughs where a good 80% of her messes occured outside as desired. Another up!

We're only half way through the week and I'm hoping things continue to improve.

Until then, I'm calling dibs on snuggling with Libby.

* As much as I'd love to take credit for this clever observation, I must attribute this quote to my beloved sis-in-law, Bees. It sums up raising a puppy perfectly, don't you think?