Mercury Retrograde?

Thank God for the arbitrary and culturally defined division of time. Be it days, weeks, months, lunar cycles, or equinoctal axis rotations (it's a thing), we always get a chance to start anew. Today it's a Sunday - and pretty darn close to the end of January - which marks the end of an extremely challenging week. It wasn't anything in particular, just one of those periods of time that I felt a little "off," a little reactive, a chronic sense of being beneath or behind and incapable of getting back on track. 

I tried all my old tricks - making lists, prioritizing, taking action, and even acknowledging that Murphy's laws were in effect and embracing the excitement of what mini-disaster lay just around the corner - but nothing seemed to work. If my mom were alive today, she would probably pull out her handy, dandy ephemeris and tell me Mercury is retrograde, which of course would explain everything. Just looked it up to make sure, and unfortunately I can't even blame Mercury this time. Retrograde was in December and post-retrograde ended like ten days ago. 

One of the drawbacks to getting older and cultivating a sense of responsibility and accountability for my feelings is that I no longer get to blame my moodiness on others. Oh man, how I used to love to find easy targets to blame for anything and everything I was feeling. Instead, I have to run with the my old mantra, "Everybody sucks, it must be me." If everyone's pissing me off a little, then chances are, I'm the problem. 

I think the primary source of my frustration is a complete and utter lack of time. I love being a dad, and I've created a schedule which allows me to spend as much time with her as possible, but there are other things I'd like to do, that I have to do.  Carrie works all day, I work nights, and both of our schedules wear us down from time to time. The moodiness, especially on Sundays, can be contagious. If parenting were a paid gig, we'd be the happiest people on the planet. 

Three more weeks until February break...

The cool thing is, we have an awesome, little girl who, with a smile, a giggle, a kiss, or a new word, makes every single sacrifice totally worth it. Teeth are popping in all over the place (including a couple of molars), and although Amari cries unexpectedly and sleeps inconsistently, I still think she's a trooper. Her vocabulary is slowly increasing, and I'm pretty sure she understands just about everything. Sometimes when we're hanging out in the morning I like to play a game I call, "Fetch the random item across the room." It tests her knowledge and allows me to watch a few uninterrupted sports highlights.

Last week, Amari also got her first taste of gardening - and dirt. She absolutely loved both. For nearly an hour, Granny C weeded the daffodil bed in front of the house while Amari placed bits of grass and dandelions into and out of a bucket, occasionally pausing to taste a rock or a clump of dirt. The next morning, when we were walking to the car, Amari took a detour to where she'd been working the day before, pointed, and said, "More, more." 

I also introduced Amari to bubbles this week. What a joy to re-experience the simpler pleasures in life. Although she hasn't mastered the art of blowing the bubbles herself, opting instead to suck the soapy liquid off the wand, when I blow the bubbles she squeals with delight, occasionally saying, "Hello bubs," while waving frantically. 

I'm sure there's a ton I'm forgetting, but once again time is my foe. If I intend to start anew tomorrow, I'd better try to get some sleep. 

 Gardening with Granny C

Gettin' Messy

 My new shirt from Aunt Jessica

 Just fitting in with the Locals

Soil Sample