On Saturday, I tripped over the diaper bag, which was lying in the middle of the living room floor. I wasn’t hurt, only angry. I picked it up and hucked it into the corner under the coat rack, yet another instance in which I model excellent ways for my children to handle frustration.

So I really don’t understand: I asked Jack oh, I don’t know, five or six times that day to unload the dishwasher and he never did so I did it myself and charged him two bucks and he got mad and hurled toys at his bedroom door. I can’t imagine why he indulged in such an orgy of violence. I mean, really. It’s not like he tripped over a diaper bag.

On Sunday, I had an anxiety relapse and cried through most of church. That afternoon I counted all the ways in which I am a failure as a mom, a wife, a writer, a friend, a daughter, a sister. The list was really long. It was a truly Napoleonic bout of self-pity, self-loathing, and total self-absorption.

Last night (Monday), I finally sat down at my computer at 9:30 to write today’s blog post. I stared at the screen and knew that I had not time, energy, nor working brain cells enough to write anything anyone would care to read. So I didn’t.

This morning, as I lay in bed nursing Ben, I heard the roar of the garbage truck as it turned onto our street, and I realized we’d forgotten to take our (nearly overflowing) trashcan out to the curb last night. I yelped at Doug to get up get up. I pulled Ben off my breast, leapt out of bed and into my jacket and slippers, raced outside, grabbed the trashcan, and, in our pajamas, Doug and I chased the garbage truck down the street.

Let’s just say that 2011 is not off to an auspicious beginning.

Of course there is one silver lining in all this muck: the garbage guy took pity on us when he saw us running down the street with our trashcan. He didn’t just wait for us. He actually backed the garbage truck up.

So maybe it will all be okay after all. Yeah, I expect the year will be filled with temper tantrums, pity parties, and a lot of garbage. But it’ll probably also be full of kind people who wait for me to get it together, who even back up and lend me a hand.