self-indulgent wallowing

You know those days where you feel off, not quite yourself and you just want a little space to be left alone to get it all back together again? The type of day where the thought of being cooped up in some remote hole, thousands of miles from just about anything, would be a blessing?

Those are the days my parenting & interpersonal skills go swirling down the toilet.

It was one of those days yesterday, where all day long I was draggy and hovered on the edges of being just a little cranky and a total raving bitch. It’s a fine line, those days. The slightest little thing can ratchet up the irritability and shove a woman to the extreme side of that line, something as simple as the phone ringing. The kind of day where roiling dark clouds gathered in my psyche, making their presence known by the tension in my neck & shoulders, the pressure building in my skull until I was sure it was going to pop as the surging tide bitchy swelled in my chest.

I made it through the workday without calling anyone incompetent, firing anyone or getting fired, but did manage to infer that certain departments should take classes on efficiency, just so they understood what the term really meant.

The ride home was an obstacle course of frustrating people in cars that didn’t know what a speed limit was, how to apply their brakes or their directional signals. Envisioning an opportunity to pull up next to the moron who’d just cut me off so I could tell him just what a moron he was gave me an odd sense of malicious satisfaction.

Going home, where it’s supposed to be all welcome and comfort, was all about Mom do this, Mom get this and Mom, Mom, MOOOOMMMM!!! I love my family, but every time one of them opened their mouth to talk to me, I just wanted to staple their lips shut.

My daughter was all about making plans with her friends for the next day and asking me a bazillion questions, the dog was whining and scratching at me for attention, my son was trying to finagle more XBOX playing time without finishing his chores and my husband wanted his own brand of TLC and attention. And everyone wanted my attention and responses at the same damn time.

As my kids began sniping away, trying to outdo each other in the insult department, the tone of their voices was akin to fingernails on a chalkboard and I growled, literally growled at them, to shut the hell up. When my son tried to wheedle my agreement for a later bedtime by sucking up with hugs and that slick charm he tries to sucker me with – I’m on to you, you know. I watched you develop that skill and know when you’re trying to hose me – I snarled and told him to go away. He called me grumpy and asked what crawled up my butt and went to mow the lawn. At least he was doing his chores, I thought.

When my daughter came over to ask me – again – what time I would drop her off at her friend’s house in the morning, I snapped at her about how the answer wasn’t any different this time than it had been five, no, even ten minutes ago. She huffed at me, grumbled something back about just wanting to be sure and that I didn’t have to be so mean about it.

My husband questioned my bitchy mood when I turned my surliness his way for something a simple as asking me a question. NO MORE QUESTIONS, was all I could think, and was relieved when he went to bed.

Even the dog finally stopped trying to get attention from the rabid human, choosing to curl up in a corner, shooting me cautious glances from sorrowful brown eyes.

They were all right. Even the dog.

I was bitchy, mean and cantankerous. Instead of being soothed by the offering of welcome home hugs and queries about my day, I turned away from it. Instead of taking shelter in the warmth and comfort of people who love me, I tried to push them to the fringes so I could wallow in self-indulgent moroseness.

How dumb can a woman be?

I’m going to blame it on menopausal moodiness and take extra care with the people who love me when I go home tonight. Hopefully they’ll still welcome me home with those hugs and loving smiles and not slam the door in my face. I don't think I'd blame them for a minute if they did.