Another day, another Little Moment, another reach up to the cookbooks.

Why is it that in my moments of most extreme bad-housewife-failure-low self-esteem, I need to bake to feel better? Today it was chocolate-caramel chip cookies. Then we all sat down on the floor and ate them, with cold milk. It was Tiffany's first experience with warm from the oven, chocolate chips still all melty, cookies.

Yes, it was an enormous hit with her.

The Boy hugs me and says that I'm just having a bad weekend. Which started, for me, on Thursday. Maybe earlier than that. I think I'm just having another bout of stress at having a good life. How messed up is that? My life now is literally better than it's ever been before, and I get all upset with it.

I need a drink.