Loving the Unlovable

I was pretty unlovable yesterday.

Cranky, residual drug lethargy and I’m sure PhilBillPaul could add a few more choice words in describing my behavior.

Did I mention I’m a wuss in the pain category?

Grumpiness may have been triggered by hunger, a sticky toaster lever, someone eating my natural peanut butter without asking (two giant jars in pantry for those who have informed me “we are NOT trying to eating healthy MOM…”) and the shooting pains of my weenie 10 stitches.

The flip out came when I saw Scary Baby with my Deluxe Yahtzee game. I have an unnatural and unhealthy obsession with keeping my games from childhood to adulthood in pristine condition.

I’m not blaming Junebug but I will say there were a few memorable days where we hunted for that ONE missing puzzle piece or a game token or a box lid that mysteriously disappeared.

My children do not share my addiction for keeping games in order and put away in their boxes they way they came. Go figure.

Side note: The Grunter shares my addiction. Something about being September Virgos. Not that we are into astrology.

I seriously adore the fact that they all love to play board games. Especially in today’s video and computer world.

But I’m well aware of the mixed message of me snapping when they touch my games without asking and furthermore do not put them away properly.

So yes, I snapped.

And it only got worse when PhilBillPaul opened up one of the game cabinets and there were loose cards and the Taboo game buzzer was NOT in the box.

Breathe, Sherra, breathe.

After a shrieking fit (I wish I could think of a nicer way to say it but let’s call a spade a spade), I made some toast and retreated to my room.

The x*nax had clearly worn off.

Which left PhilBillPaul sorting cards and taping broken box lids with packing tape.

And Scary Baby was upstairs crying because we sent her friend home because we also discovered her room was a wreck and the rule since birth has been “Work Before Play” which meant her room should have been cleaned up before she had a guest.

About an hour later, a brave soul pecked on my bedroom door. Scary Baby said,

“Hi Momma. Lizzie and I made you this.”

Raspberries, strawberries, blackberries, milk, sugar and ice.

Love in a glass.

With a bendy straw.

Crappy Mother – 0
Darling Children – 1

How’s your summer going?