Maybe it's the lack of sleep that's making me cranky. I finally have Little Dude sleeping through the night (most nights) and now the Peanut Butter Kid keeps waking up. Last week it was the Pork Lo Maniac waking up.
Or maybe it's the juggling of Individualized Education Plans, 504 Plans, and Homebound Schooling. Visits to my children's school are feeling more and more like trips to the Department of Motor Vehicles. Just when you think you've got everything all set, they tell you you've been waiting in the wrong line for the last 45
Along the same line, but with less emotional investment: Did you notice that January Jones' Emmy dress appeared to be made out of cupcake liners? A lot of cupcake liners?
Also, now I want cupcakes. But all we have in the house is sugar-free Popsicles. Which is making me even more cranky.
I installed a dual-switch ceiling fan by myself this weekend. Although I was proud of myself for the accomplishment, all I could think "Five Minute Installation?" Hunter Fan Company, you're out of your damn mind. Seriously, I don't know who could install that thing in five minutes. I don't even think a professional electrician could do it in five minutes. Maybe a team of fan installers could train with an Indy pit crew and get it down to ten minutes, tops.
Speaking of cats, I had always planned to be a crazy cat lady when I'm old. Our current two cats are changing my mind on that. One cat has cat acne (also known as Feline Gross Scabby Bald Spot) and is actively trying to kill me. Seriously, he weaves around my feet on the stairs. You know what, cat? You have chin funk and I am the only one who's willing to deal with it. And if I cartwheel down the stairs and break my neck, no one will scrub your chin with Dial soap. And then you will be hideous.
The other cat is, um, "Special Needs." No, really. She's deaf, which is fine, and she has a balance problem, which is also fine. And funny, truth be told. Except for the time she fell into the fireplace, which was totally not funny. But the annoying thing about that cat is she doesn't cover her poops up. She scratches the side of the box, but she just can't seem to scratch any litter over her stinky poops. Even the most spectacular kitty litter cannot combat the odor of cat poop that just sits there on top of the litter. The last time I bought litter, there were about twenty different formulas. There's even some kind of sparkly Glitter Litter with stench-fighting crystals or something. But no "Uncoordinated Cat" formula.
The more stressed I get, the worse my own sensory integration problems are. Every little sound is screaming at me. At one moment, the television was on, one of my kids was reading a story out loud, and another kid was munching an apple. The various sounds converged into a giant spine-stabbing auditory dagger that left me twitching on the couch. I finally let loose with "OH MY GOD WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE TURN OFF THE IDIOT BOX BEFORE I THROW A BRICK THROUGH IT?"
The kids giggled. Mommy's got a thing with sounds. They think it's funny.
My husband, the ever-charming Absent-Minded Professor, flicked the TV off. "Why so tense?" he asked.