Sunday, July 14, 2013

Rants from crazytown

If you know me in real life and you know me well, you know that my tendency is to put up with something that irritates me until I just can't take it anymore and then I just sort of....snap. If you didn't know that, ya do. 

Of course, after I 'snap' then I think a lot about how I need to improve my communication skills and figure out a way to be on a path that is much more even keeled overall. I mean, nothing shows you how annoying your own behavior is until you see it in echoed in either another family member or your own kid. And nothing is more annoying than be annoyed by your own behavior reflected back at you. And nothing gives your future teenagers more ammunition to crawl right up under your skin than spelling it out for them two billion times. AmIright? 

So yesterday, I went downstairs to do the four hundred loads of laundry that managed to pile up in one short week. Mind you, I did my and Robert's laundry mid-week, so we are pretty much talking about kids' laundry plus sheets and towels. So. Much. Laundry. I don't quite understand it. 

I'm having serious issues with low iron...again. I'm taking iron supplements, I'm eating tons of dark leafy greens and have added lean red meat back into my diet about 3 times a week. Still feel like s**t. I'm tired. I'm cranky. I'm impatient. I just feel very run down and awful. Yesterday, I didn't drag myself out of bed until almost 10 am, and even then, I only wanted to crawl right back in.  But alas, Tucker was out of socks and shorts so laundry duty called. 

I felt crappy on Friday which lead to skipping my workout so I thought, well, I'm going to be downstairs doing laundry for hours, so I can take Focus T25 nice and slow and get caught up. 

It seemed like a great plan in my mind. 

Ha! I had to keep stopping for breaks and backing up the DVD to make it through. So my two 25 minute workouts stretched into almost 1  hour and 30 minutes. 

Our downstairs laundry room smells like mildew this week and I can't figure out where the smell is originating. I have cleaned and mopped and bleached it repeatedly since the great plumbing backup of  May.  Gross. All of this plus endless laundry plus kids coming in and out wasn't helping my general disposition, which was super grumpy to begin with. 

Which leads me back to my original point. I feel like I have been harping on the kids to shut the door completely when they go either outside or into the garage for decades. The kids and I had three separate discussions about shutting doors just this week. So when I would hear someone coming in or out, I would call out.."Close the door please" as a polite reminder. 

Imagine my...disappointment/irritation/frustration/anger... when I start to take clean, folded, sorted laundry upstairs and find that the door to the garage is once again wide open. 


In the time it takes me to walk over and- I admit it - slam it shut to announce my displeasure, my irritation has bloomed into full grown, flat out, rage. I go into our bedroom to hang up the clothes I don't put in the dryer and I try to talk myself into calming down. The kids have a friend over and it's not his fault my two can't seem to shut a door so I walk around in the bedroom muttering to myself. 

It doesn't help. Obviously.

So I count to 50 and decide to go ask the kids nicely to go. shut. the. door. again. 

I hear someone say something and I'm walking down the hall about going outside (oh no they di'int!) and before I can actually use my common sense and logic, my mouth is saying "Tucker and Sara can't go outside because they are incapable, apparently, of being able to shut a door they open!" 


By this time I get to the kitchen and Robert, Tucker, and Sara all have this look on their faces like, "Oh she goes..." which of course only makes me more irrational. We send the friend home, and in all honesty, he was probably glad to get out of there. I know I would have been! 

Once it's just Robert and the kids, I start pacing back and forth through the living room and kitchen throwing my hands around dramatically and giving my 'why do we have to repeat ourselves' speech. it goes something like this: 

'The door to the garage was open. Again. AGAIN! I mean, did we NOT just talk about this THREE different times this week? I mean, I am speaking English, right? You guys do understand the words that are coming out of my mouth, correct? No one is hearing impaired in this house. No one is PHYSICALLY incapable of shutting a door. You seem to be able to OPEN the door just fine. Is there a force field or some sort of barrier that prevents you from closing the door? I don't get it. Why is it so hard? Every day we say the same things - don't jump on the furniture, no running in the house, pick up after yourself, SHUT THE DOOR!!!!!!! Can you PLEASE tell me WHY you don't or won't shut the door?!?!?!'

image from

I look over and both the kids have their heads down. Great. Now I feel like the ass - which I kind of should, actually. It's just a door. The open door isn't really the problem. It's just a symptom of a bigger problem which is, of course, that Robert and I have told the kids what seems like five MILLION times to do/not do the simplest things in the world....and yet....and yet......


It makes me crazy. 

Please tell me I'm not alone in this. 


Anonymous said...

Rofl nope sweetie your not alone! This cuz is right there with you!

Brooke said...

It makes me crazy!

dawyn said...

Here... the issue is shut the door COMPLETELY! We have two pit bulls, one elderly blind chow and two cats. None of them want to meet each other in a friendly "hey let's hang out quietly" kinda way. They would rather run like lunatics through the house playing tag and lets see who can knock over the most furniture. So when mine leaves a door cracked, it almost always happens when I am in the tub. So there I go... naked through the house chasing dogs and cats, usually while one of my 22 yr old son's friends is in the kitchen being appalled by the breastless wet naked woman who just ran in and grabbed a dog by the collar. I wish I could say it improves with age... but instead it becomes... either shut the damn door or move the fart out.