In some ways, I'm a good mom to boys. I'm definitely not the girly-girl type, so all the Pepto-Bismol-pink Barbie and Princess crap would drive me out of my tree.

On the other hand, I'm so freakin' tired of hearing siren noises and having boys running up and down the hallway. I really don't care about pod racers or who always wins. I don't know the difference between a space explorer and an astronaut. I'm tired, too, of boy clothes that all look exactly the same so you don't know whose crap is whose. I hate the fact that all TV shows, movies, and toys for boys involve fighting in some way -- and that if you don't allow your kid to eat it up, you may guarantee his lack of popularity. What points can my kid score on the playground if we won't let him watch Power Rangers or have even the smallest light saber?

There are days -- like today -- when I'm so incredibly desperate for peace and quiet and solitude I want to cry. In addition to being outnumbered chromosomally, finances are typically tight and my therapist is putting her foot down about my bill. She has every right to, I'm not fighting that. But unfortunately, resources don't exist. I haven't had savings, or extra money at all, since.... well, definitely before we had kids. And things won't be better this month -- remember DH's Husband of the Year Award? He spent a full week organizing and tossing and cleaning our apartment, which is a week for which he will not get paid.

Bummer, eh?