The Curse of the Odd Number

A friend of mine once told me that she only likes even numbers. I think there's something to that. For as long as I can remember as a rule even numbered years were mostly "good" years and odd years were "bad." 2009 is living up to its number. Here's a recap of just a few things that have happened this year:

• January--my car died

• February--our baby-sitter tells us she's knocked up and due at the end of the month, giving us little time to scramble and find a temporary replacement

• March--my husband lost his job

You get the idea. Yet, as down as I've been about these and other situations I can't bring myself to put 2009 in the "Worst Years Ever" category. The reason is simple--my kid. Even if he's in teething hell, tantrum hell, or just being plain onery my little boy makes me smile every single day. No year with Logan can be THAT bad. He brings me a constant joy I've never felt before. So as I'm continuing to muddle through this shit heap that is 2009 and all I want to do is crawl in a hole and cry, I think I'll go have a snuggle with my boy and read "Hop on Pop" for the millionth time.