Angry Bitch

Over the past year, I've become an angry bitch. Before I had kids, I was a bitch maybe 5% of the time. After kids, my bitchiness increased year by year, and now that Harrison has turned two and Hutton seems to be at the peak of his crazy behaviors (I hope this is the peak! If it gets higher, I'm going to need to get high just to deal with this stuff!) I'm a bitch 85% of the time. I save my nice behavior for outings with the kids, so outsiders don't realize that I'm an angry bitch.

Some of my reasons for being angry:

My really fancy Aeron desk chair that hubby got me when he bought himself a new chair, too, now smells like Lysol and poop, and I put it at Hutton's desk because the smell of Lysol gives me a headache, and the smell of poop makes me want to vomit.

Why, you ask, does my desk chair smell like Lysol and poop? Or did you just assume that was the smell I ordered when I was picking out the features of my Aeron? "Hmm, I like the graphite color, and do I want the smell of freesia and lilac, apples and cinnamon, musk and patchouli....no, that's it! Lysol and POOP!"

My chair smells like poop because Hutton pooped in his diaper sometime before he woke up on Tuesday morning. He wears a diaper at night because I'd be changing the sheets every day if not. And every once in a while, instead of just peeing during the night, he'll poop, too. And Tuesday morning, when he woke up with a loaded diaper, he acted as if nothing was wrong with that, and went upstairs to play with his computer. Except he didn't play with his computer. He played with MY computer. And sat in MY chair. There was no poop actually on the chair, but just having his poop-filled diaper pressed into my chair for a half hour was enough. I didn't realize he'd sat in my chair until later that day when I sat down and got the whiff of poop. That's where the Lysol comes in. After 5 sprayings of Lysol, with several hours drying time in between, my chair still smells like poop. And Lysol, of course. So, now I'm sitting in my crappy old desk chair that was at Hutton's desk, and he can enjoy the wonder of the Aeron, since he apparently doesn't mind the smell of his own poop.

Not enough?

I took Harrison to a Gymboree class today, leaving Hutton at home with hubby. When I walked in, the freezer door was wide open, and our dog, Fergus, was licking the last remains of a gallon of ice cream out of the open carton. Hmm. I wonder who left an open carton of ice cream on the floor and the freezer door open? Hubby? Or Hutton?

Still not feeling the anger?

As I was getting Harrison ready for bed, reading him the tenth book, I would occasionally call out to Hutton, who was still in the tub: "That's enough soap!" because he's a notorious soap waster, especially when he has a bottle of liquid soap, which is the case now. I listened carefully and didn't hear the sound of the soap pump, just the sound of water being poured. Nothing to worry about. He's just playing in the tub. Harrison's finally in bed, and I walk down the hall to get Hutton ready for bed. Turn into the bathroom, and there's an inch of water on the floor. Hutton looks up at me, and tells me, "I made a mess!" Yeah, no shit. (At least there was literally, no shit.) Normally Hubby puts Hutton to bed while I put Harrison to bed, but tonight he has a big work project to do. So, I got to put Hutton to bed AND wipe up the mess.

Think of several more little instances like this. At least three things happen daily to make me scream. My switch used to be able to get flipped back to "normal" at the end of the day, but now it seems to be worn down and stays at ANGRY BITCH constantly.