It's time to give up the ghost. It's not the best year ever. It's pretty much the worst year ever. That point was particularly clear when I was screaming at the top of my lungs in the teacher work room this morning at 8:20am.

I screamed later in front of a student who was in to get me to sign a form about his attendance contract. He laughed at me, but to be fair, it probably was funny to see me shaking my fists and screaming.

Later, I accidentally started crying at the lunch table.

So, pretty much, this year blows. I mean, let's be real.

Something that doesn't blow is this tweet I read today:



@editorgurl is the actual editor of Birthmarked by Caragh O'Brien, my favorite blogging topic of the month. I was really excited that she, Nancy Mercado, editor of the book, may have listened to my podcast. And then somebody else I don't know also re-tweeted that tweet because they follow Nancy, adding that she loved O'Brien's YA novel.

This is the power of the internet! Unfortunately, the power of the internet is not enough to counteract the power of the Worst Year Ever. I'm not sure how I'm going to survive the next seven weeks. I'll do it somehow, but I might not be as delightful as I was before.

One of my pals just had a baby boy yesterday and posted some lovely photos on Facebook of moments after the event. They're images you've seen a million times, featuring a triumphant mother and a beautiful newborn looking into each other's eyes.

My friend looks radiant in these photos - really glowing with the joy of birthing her new child.

And of course, I'm super happy for her and her unbloated face.

Now, offered here for the sake of contrast, this is me about four hours after Mac was born:



Seriously. WTF?