Pity Pot

So, last night I had a meltdown. Or as my husband put it, I was on a major pity pot. The pity pot of the century, I think he said. I guess it started earlier in the day, when I suddenly decided that I wasn't really great at anything. Fine at a bunch of stuff, but not excellent at any one thing. I know I already sound like I'm whining but just bear with me. Well, then I was pushed over the edge when I logged into my online class only to discover that my stat teacher is some crazy computer techno whiz. There were pages and pages of instructions on how to log onto an e book and secret agent access codes and downloads galore. I've taken online classes before and it's never been that complicated. When I realized I didn't know the crazy access code, I went into almost full blown panic mode. Anyway, I was pretty much crying to my husband that I'm a loser, listing off all of the everything that I'm not good at, like writing and drawing and cooking and cleaning and laundry and being a mom and computers and painting chairs and sewing and everything else I could think of that I should be good at. On and on I went and instead of reassuring me that, no, really I am good at all those things, he laughed at me! He did help me figure out my class (which is pretty pathetic, since he's no computer genius) and then got around to telling me that the only thing I'm not good at is laundry. When I blubbered that "I don't even spend time with the kids!" he pointed out that um, they've been gone most days for the last couple of weeks.



His efforts however weren't helping, and I was determined. I repeated my case until he finally brought me a piece of cheese (to go with my whine) and started playing a song on Annika's violin. I took a left over Valium and I'm much better now. Sometimes, we just have bad days.