So! I’m still here. I know, I know: it feels like we haven’t chatted much lately, doesn’t it? I’m sorry about that. The delightful holiday break became so extended that eventually all I could do was walk around the house picking up dirty socks and soggy mittens and eating random leftover Christmas chocolate, then notice some more socks and begin shuffling around the house again. I lost complete track of the days of the week. By Thursday evening I was pretty much ready to huddle in a fetal position and stay there until my children starting poking me with sticks. Which, okay: I was being dramatic. Because things were going fine, really, but I was just in a rut. I was sick of us all rutting. Ha, I kid.
The irritating thing about being moody is that As Mom Goes, So Goes The Household. Or, maybe it’s not like that for you, but that’s the way it is at our house. Any other individual can get cranky at our house, and it’s annoying, but it doesn’t entirely screw up the equilibrium of the other three humans. But if I wake up snapping, things just go to hell. Thursday? There was sobbing, there was yelling. Possibly an F-bomb was dropped. And I think it was about 80% my fault, because when I keep my shit together, I can usually talk one or two people off the ledge. Of course, since my Benign Emotional Aura is so essential to everyone, they’re hyper-attuned to my every non-verbal (and unconscious) cue. So when I’m cranky and I don’t yell, but I do something like, I don’t know, pause an extra beat before answering a question, or sigh, or stare vacantly for a moment without hearing a question, everyone knows that I’m cranky, anyway. It feels a teensy bit like they’re setting off a tornado siren whenever I show evidence that I’m Slightly Off My Game or that I’m, God forbid, Not Entirely Glorying In The Splendor That Is My Family. My children are bickering about something and I am asked a question that seems expressly designed to irritate me, and I take a moment, silently counting to 3, and it’s like, “Neeee—nahh, neee—nahh!” Like a volcano’s erupting, glass is shattering, and everyone starts to cover their heads with their hands and shrieks. I’m not shrieking, but it’s as if I shrieked. When all I did was. . . pause. And that’s not fair. But shrieking is still worse. So I’m screwed.
The good news is that Friday was better. The girls spent quite a bit of time playing outside happily. Or working, rather, on a fort that took up roughly 20% of our backyard. They were so adorably industrious that I took pictures through the kitchen window:
Then on Saturday I drove out to Rochester for a KidsOutAndAbout par-tay. All by myself. Which was, let’s face it, exactly what I needed. It was a lovely sleepover affair for me, and I felt particularly fortunate that going home meant going east, because at last report one of our folks heading west still hasn’t made it home because of the snow.
Speaking of snow, I’m talking fun with ice and snow on Newschannel 13’s Live at Noon on Thursday, based on this new article on KidsOutAndAbout. And does that mean that I was pretty bitter when things were rainy and melty this morning? Why, yes I was. But I think we’re all set again now.
Today was a glorious day, back to the routine. Lots of excitement, like solo grocery shopping and finishing up tasks and printing out a shiny new 2014 calendar for my bulletin board. I’m feeling good. Let’s hope school isn’t cancelled due to frigid temperatures. If it is, I’ll just pause and count to 3.