Dear Diary... Brace For Bitching
So, 10:36 a.m. EST. Bathrooms have been scrubbed, shower curtains washed, house vacuumed, four loads of laundry washed, dried, put away, kitchen scrubbed along with the floor, house dusted and children have been banished to their rooms until said pigstys are clean. *slumps over*
Why, do you ask? Diva decided to get up at 5:45 this morning and as five year olds tend to do, had no clue why this was a Bad Thing. Actually, she knows good and well, but there's a reason I call her my little Diva. She refuses to acknowledge that the world doesn't revolve around her. I've pondered how to drive home this lesson, but so far, no luck. I fear for teen years. So, after reading her the riot act (rather loudly, which was not so good since being loud when others were sleeping was one thing I was letting her have it about *sigh*) I attempted sleep again with no bloody luck. *mutters* So, instead of tossing and turning for an hour and drifting off only to wake up more groggy and irritable (yes, it's possible for me to experience and express more piss-offedness) I decided to drag my grumpy butt out of bed and get to work on the house.
Again, why? Well, hubby finally gets home today. Hubby is also exhausted and rightfully so. He's worked his ass off the last two weeks making sure his bosses are reassured that he did indeed the promotion he's just gotten. But there are pitfalls. Happy, well-rested hubby doesn't grouse much about the state of the house when it's not quite as clean as it could be. I love him for that, because I tend to run hot and cold on the housekeeping thing. But grumpy, exhausted, tired-of-traveling hubby tends to be frustrated by coming home to a sort-of-cluttered-sort-of-clean house. In my saner moments I can understand this. Kind of like me coming home from a meeting in the evening and hoping that the dishes are done and going through the roof when they aren't. But I digress. Anyway, so grumpy, tired me plus grumpy tired him does not make for a lot of understanding, so I'm trying to negate any possible areas of friction, even nitpicky, before he gets home. All of that to explain why it's not even lunch time and I'm bitching about housework.
On another tangent, for those of you that I've neglected horribly this week, my apologies. It's really been quite the week from hell. All four kids started school this week in some shape or form, which meant orientations and driving to school and rushing for school supplies overlooked, blahblahblah. We also had most of our extra-curricular activities (one per kid at this point and zomg, I'm still reeling) start: ballet x 2, hip-hop and Scouts which of course all required some sort of meet-n-greet for parents/kids/teachers. And then there was Diva (yeah, it's her day in the hot seat) who came home exhausted from kindergarten and proceeded to take her frustrations out by smacking around her baby sister. One black eye, one near strangulation and more fights broken up than I can count and really, I'm ready to throw in the towel. Or just sleep the clock around.
Not gonna happen. We leave for Indianapolis for a wedding Thursday morning. 12 hours in the car with the children and hubby. Shoot me now.