Mr W and I met up in the kitchen.
"Thanks for dinner," he said.
"Whatever," I quite sarcastically mutter under my breath.
I smacked him in the arm, as he turned to leave. "Where are you going?" I asked.
"Out of here," he says. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but you're in a mood."
I decide to fill him in on what's wrong with me.
"I'm PMS-ing. I'm sick of hearing Ben coughing; and I'm sleep-deprived. (Ben's been up the last couple of nights, hacking until 3 am, and nothing, nothing I've done can calm him; not to mention he's had a couple of rounds of sleepwalking I'm sure are medication-induced and Ryan decided to wake me up the other night for a nightmare right after I got Ben settled) I'm sweaty..."
"Go take a shower," he offers. I glare at him and continue: "I haven't seen you in three days, and now I'm looking at you, I should be happy to see you, but all I feel is homicidal."
Bad enough, right, to spew that right out there, but I have to go on and finish with, "Come here and give me a hug." (Just call me Sybil.)
"Why, so you can stab me in the back?" he jokes.
"Ha, if I was going to stab you, I wouldn't hide my attack, I'd approach from the front. You know, give you a fighting chance."
At this point, Nolan was in the kitchen, and he actually scoots behind his Dad's back, looking for my hands.
You gotta be kidding me.
I've been a good sport, on my own because Mr W has been busy; with sick children on little sleep, and I'm not allowed a cranky moment?
Besides, I feel better having gotten it off my chest, out in the open. (My crankiness quotient went way down after that. It didn't disappear, but it wasn't so high that I continued to scare the family.)
Here I sit, and it's approaching 1 am, and I'm about this l l far from tears. Ben is hacking, in spite of taking my creative "please-please-let-this-be-the-charm" cocktail of cough syrup and Benadryl. I will be getting up to go to work in a few hours.
My husband is asleep. Oblivious.
Sure, tomorrow when I point that out to him, he will swear to me that he could hear Ben too and that it disturbed his slumber.
Mmm-hhmm. Yeah, I always snore when I can't sleep.
(It appears Ben is quieted down. Time for me to try and hit it too, before the next round...which as all Moms know, will hit right around the time I'm shifting into deep sleep, or in the middle of a really good dream.)