There was absolutely nothing funny about yesterday.

There was absolutely nothing funny about yesterday. It took 2.5 full hours to get them both to sleep. I was on the verge of getting  all Mommy Dearest there for a while. Seriously. New compassion for Joan Crawford. 

I felt like this: Goya. Saturn Devouring His Son

source: http://www.wikipaintings.org/en/francisco-goya/saturn-devouring-his-son-1823-1

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Francisco_de_Goya_y_Lucientes

Is this funny? Maybe not. But in my chronically sleep deprived state I think it's freakin' hysterical. Ever since way back in art school, I thought the frantic insanity in his eyes was darkly humorous. 

I need to go for a run. With the taper and now an injury, I feel like a neurotic tiger I once saw in a zoo in Singapore. Pacing frantically in its tiny glass walled cell, licking its chops ready to devour.  

Note: I would NEVER actually EAT my children.