ABCs, Whose are These? What's this color? Thank you, Please!

I blinked and Graham is a toddler, learning at a lighting quick pace. He can (somewhat) accurately fill in my pauses during the ABC song, and sings the tune and rhythm of it on his own - minus the understandable parts. When asked "How many are there?" of anything, there are always TEEEEEE! (Three, for those of you who just don't get it.) He is really interested in ownership of things; he loves telling me "Dada shoes" or "Mama hat" and is dipping his toes into the dreaded "Mine!" He has yet to do it in a Hey You, Back Off! sort of way. It's just like Hey whaddyaknow! I know this, this is mine. While out for a Saint Patty's Day beer with Amy, (Graham prefers Pale Ales, by the way) Mr. Manners offered me a bite of bruchetta. I guess I didn't say thank you quickly enough, and he jumped all over me signing "Thank You!" I swear there was an eye roll in there. We were visiting Nick at work, which we hadn't done since he's changed jobs. We have determined that it is just not a good idea to be around Daddy when he can't play. Graham was quite upset by it, and I had to quickly turn it into a peek-a-boo game of Where's Daddy Now?

Graham is also having some success with naming colors, although his go-to answer if he's not sure is "Geen?" which is freaking adorable. And he's great with his Pleases. Half the time I don't even have to ask for them.

As for me, well. I think I am going to lose my mind today, which is why I decided that I should just ignore the bazillion things I have to do and won't be able to finish, and spend 10 minutes blogging and decompressing. I have a job interview on Wednesday, and if I didn't have a child I'd be excited about the possibility of getting the job. It looks like a great place and definitely the type of environment I'd like to work in. But I do have a child, and the thought of leaving him, and the thought of working 40 hours a week on top of doing all the stuff I already do makes me feel like I'd like to schedule a lobotomy for early next week. Then there's the realization of what we'd actually net, after paying for daycare and taxes, and the loss of me as a deduction on Nick's taxes. So then I'm like, ok do I really want him to spend his weekdays with somebody else for that amount? I'm freaking out. It feels really rotten. Things are feeling sort of impossible today. It's one of those days. And I'm having a hard time lining up somebody to take care of Graham during the interview. And he's going to miss ECFE class again, because last week we were sick.

I don't know how working moms do it, let alone working single moms. Seriously. I just don't get it.

One thing at a time today. On to a clean fridge.