What do you do when the mom is crabby? I mean seriously, absolutely crabby? I just spent an hour slumped in my favorite chair, arms crossed, bottom lip out, pouting. Yes, pouting. Just kind of hanging out and waiting for the opportunity to yell “No. YOU shut up!” to someone. Yeah. That would feel great.

I understand feeling this way when things are going awry. When you get called away from work because your kid is sick, or you’re out of coffee in the morning, or you walk into the kitchen and the cat is on the counter licking your sandwich. All worthy, crabby-making moments. But why is it that sometimes, when everything is absolutely perfect, I just want to scream?

I guess that it happens in reverse. There are days that are just an absolute gift; when energy is boundless and I manage to effortlessly sail through my day. Of course, I like to believe that those days stem from my effervescent personality and natural charm, whereas, clearly, today is an aberration. I know better than to ask my dear hubby about it, because even though he’s not the type to keep score, I suspect that he has opinions to the contrary.

I am, after all, a Lucy Van Pelt personality. A first child, completely happy as long as folks are doing exactly what I say. (And it doesn’t hurt to tell me that I’m pretty and bring me presents, either.) I always have a plan for today. For this afternoon. Heck, for the next hour I have a detailed map in my head of what must happen. But, dang! The five children that live in my house, not to mention their daddy, rarely (if ever) want to follow what is clearly the best and most efficient use of their/my time. Honestly, it’s like herding chickens. I am thwarted at every turn. I think sometimes I just store up my disappointment and wake up preemptively frustrated.

Hence the pouting.

Of course, today, everyone is being absolutely angelic. Dad is in total charge of the morning and must have issued some serious “Leave mom alone.” threats, because all of the kiddlets filed downstairs, kissed me on the cheek and, docile as lambs, returned from whence they came. I can hear showers being taken and breakfast being served, which makes me feel completely ridiculous. I think it might be time to man up, shake off this mood and get out of this chair. Yup…any minute now.
The Rise & Fall of a Momocracy

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