Thirteen

We celebrated our 13th wedding anniversary a few weeks ago, and I have to admit that it wasn't our finest.

Having sunk into a funk of insecurity after the Mad Men Dress Incident, I'd been moody and listless the days prior--made worse by the fact that I ceased taking my medication {which is oddly common when I'm depressed. I quit when I most need it.} J reacted with frustration and anger, saying that it wasn't fair to him and the kids; that he worried about them; that this was preventable. It was all true, and yet one of the kindnesses I take for granted is that J doesn't often point this out, knowing that my deepest fear is that I'm somehow damaging my children by trying to mother them amidst struggles with depression. His sudden hostile honesty made me angry at him for being angry with me. It was silly and we both knew it, yet it took a few days to let those feelings go.

But now it's Friday the 13th,  I've decided to chalk up our anniversary drama to superstitious bad luck and am busy making up for it with fabulous weekly dates. On the agenda tonight? Walking under ladders, breaking mirrors, spilling salt, auditioning black cats... you know, the usual.

What about you? Any plans for this evening? Whatever they are, good luck! Or break a leg! May the odds be ever in your favor! You get the idea. :)

Happy Weekend, all.