Angry Bird

I’m a grumpy cow today. Now, it’s certainly true that things don’t run smoothly every day. But at some points my grump to problem ratio has been completely off the scale. Some of the things that have nearly pushed me over the edge today may well have escaped my radar yesterday. Today I just seem mere moments away from fury at all times. 

It’s probably hormonal. Not the normal monthly kind, as breastfeeding means I don’t bother with such nonsense yet. Regardless of periods or even gender, we humans appear to be slaves to these odd chemicals. During pregnancy I spent 90 percent of my time blaming them for my tears, laughter, rage, vomiting, sense of smell, etc. My eldest eventually asked why I had so many “hormonals” and why did I cry about it? The boy raised some valid points.

So whether it’s hormones or that I have a shit personality, I’m in a hell of a mood today. I don’t want to communicate. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to move. I’d quite like to eat though…which is all too often my go to solution for life’s crappiness. And now that I’ve scraped through a day of wanting to tell everyone I’ve seen to bugger off; I’m beyond tired. Being socially acceptable when I get like this is exhausting. It’s a bit like speaking a foreign language; you have to think carefully about every word you say because it doesn’t come naturally. 

The odd thing for me is that, although I’ve always had these moods, I haven’t always had kids. Now, where it may be forgivable to tell Daddio to piss off occasionally because I’m in a bad mood, it is unforgivable to say such things to your children;  obviously, I understand that. Forgive me if I do tend to be just a little more selfish on days like this. For example, you’ll find me singing rock ballads instead of nursery rhymes. I might not be quite as likely to play board games. And you can be fairly certain I’ll avoid sharing my sweeties with anyone. Let alone someone who will try one, say they don’t like it, and spit it out. 

Cuddles are a must though. Grumpy me needs approximately 3 times more hugs. Tonight I cuddled up with both boys before bed and felt more like me than I had all day. And now, as I’m cuddling the Mini Dictator and sniffing his warm head, I’m beginning to thaw out a bit. Mind you, I challenge anyone to feel cross while smelling a babies head. Unless the head smell is over shadowed by arse smell…then it’s possible that you may have some negative feelings. 

Today’s arse related negative feelings were mainly directed at Weetabix. How can they create a product which creates such a delicious meal yet turns into something so utterly repulsive after passing through a child’s digestive system? And by christ does it stick?! I’ve never seen anything so gritty to be expelled by my child. And quite how half a wheat biscuit  (or Weetabick, as I feel the singular item should be known) can have influenced the outcome of 4 nappies I have no idea.

Anyway, I’m quite sure my fury will be short lived. I’m, quite frankly, too busy to stay away from all hunan kind. But I might just take a day off swimming lessons tomorrow if I’m not myself. Nothing makes me more irate than the temperature of leisure centres! There isn’t anything other than a swimming costume that can be worn comfortably in the searing heat of these places. Short of arriving and leaving in swimwear I simply don’t know how to be comfortable there. And while the Milk Monster might not been old enough to be embarrassed by me yet, I’m quite sure your step mum arriving at your 1swimming lesson in her swimsuit is reason enough to disown her. 

So, here’s hoping for a better mood tomorrow. And fingers crossed for happy kids and happy mums who find a way to survive the heat of the leisure centre. And, for the love of God, please let all the Weetabix have passed through by now…


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