I just want a break

Last week was blah. I was hoping it would pass. And I suppose it did. Monday was a lovely day, even with all the snow. I had really wanted an extra day with Ellie and Harry, and the snow made that possible. So you'd think the rest of the week would follow suit.

Not so.

This week, instead of blah, I'm short-tempered and extremely impatient. I hate when I get like this. *I* don't want to be around me when I'm in this kind of mood. Add stress at work, Ellie's monster stubbornness, and Harry's forgetfulness to the mix, and well, it's not pretty.

I got to the point last night where I just wanted to leave the house for a little while. I hardly ever feel like that. It just gets to be too much sometimes. I feel overwhelmed and underappreciated. How many times do I have to figure out a problem I didn't cause, tell Ellie that we don't hit, or clean up the sugar Harry has spilled on the counter making his coffee? Why are there days when I want to tell someone else to do it or plop Ellie in front of the TV all day so she'll chill out a little or scream my full head off at Harry because he's a fucking adult, and I shouldn't have to pick up after him? Yeah, it's been that kind of week.

My frustration shows, I know it does. And that leads to another problem all together because showing frustration is supposedly bad. Whatever. I'm only human.

I just don't understand why there are times when I can just let these things roll off my back and just keep trucking and other times when I can feel myself turning into a screeching banshee. Why is there no happy medium?

Instead, I suppress the anger. For days. For weeks. And then it all comes out in one fell swoop. I turn on Harry when I find there's toothpaste yet again on the outside of the tube, and I get it all over my fingers (yes, this happened last night). I get sarcastic and bitchy when he has forgotten, yet again, to turn off the baby monitor we use in the family room, only to have it wake me at 1am because the charge ran out and it's beeping, and all the while he sleeps peacefully next to me because a freakin' airplane landing on our front lawn wouldn't wake him (yes, this also happened last night). Eventually, every little thing that has annoyed me in the previous weeks comes flying out of my mouth in this gigantic tirade of offenses he's committed... leaving his prescription eczema cream out within Ellie's reach, leaving scissors on the counter within Ellie's reach, not closing the drawers all the way, leaving socks on the floor, etc, etc, etc. I was very close to unleashing all of this on him this morning, but again, I just suppressed it.

He throws a quick "sorry" my way when I mention the monitor waking me up and quickly moves on to another topic, my annoyance already forgotten. Yet, when I make a mistake, I fret over it because I know it's upset someone. I just don't get it. Why do I carry around all the worry and anxiety while everyone else just seems to roll with the punches? Why do I let it get to me so much?

Instead, I had a little meltdown myself this morning in front of Ellie. Hey, if she gets to have a tantrum now and again, so do I. Her constant stubbornness and selective hearing finally got to me. I pleaded with her in an oh-so-whiny voice this morning, asking why she doesn't just listen to me. Of course, she just pretended she didn't hear me. I give up.

No, not really. But getting upset because a 2-year-old keeps taking off her sunglasses and then she complains about the sun in her eyes isn't doing me any good. She's 2. This is the kind of stuff 2-year-olds do. I just wish that she could understand that I do things for her to make her happy, to make her life better, to help her when she needs it.

I think I'll stop rambling now.