Various creatures and plants have ways of warning people that they are dangerous - cacti have spikes, blowfish get bigger, rattlesnakes have, well, rattles. There are days when I wish I had one of those mechanisms that would warn anyone within at least a 30 feet radius to not mess with me. Yesterday was one of those days.
It started off way too early after a very busy and tiring weekend. Storms rolled through around 5:30am, bringing with them a little girl to my bed. That in itself is ok, I certainly remember being scared of thunder when I was young, and it's a good excuse to snuggle. Unfortunately, little miss chatterbox kept up a steady stream of conversation, so that by about 6:15, I gave up. I needed to fix the boy a decent breakfast anyway before his testing session that morning. Strike one.
So I hauled myself out of bed (very carefully; there were lots of sore body parts), wandered to the bathroom and followed my morning ritual of stepping on the scale. Most of the time I don't pay too much attention to the exact number on the scale; as long as it is within a certain range, I couldn't care less what it is. But yesterday morning gave me a number I hadn't seen since I was losing pregnancy weight. Four years ago. This number was most decidedly out of the certain range. Damn. Apparently I over-fueled for all the workouts this weekend. And paid for it yesterday.
I don't know about you, but if my clothes fit tight (the ones that aren't supposed to fit tight), it just puts me in a bad mood. And believe me, I was in a bad mood. Strike two.
I manage to get the kiddos to school without too much wailing and gnashing of teeth and settled in to get some work done. Aside from a database issue, work at least went fairly smoothly. It stormed and rained like crazy until about noon, when it just got cold and very windy.
B had a ball practice scheduled for 5pm last night, so I watched my email all afternoon in case the coach decided to cancel. Finally, at 4:30, when no email had arrived and it appeared practice was on, I shut down my computer, rounded up his ball gear and set about getting him ready. This resulted in an epic meltdown on his part when he was trying to get his shoes on. I have no doubt that part of it was just him relieving some of the stress from the day, but man. He doesn't do that very often anymore. I was still irritable as hell, and I didn't handle the situation as well as I could have. We were both a little grumpy, but I let him have a cookie and we smoothed things over.
We finally got out the door and down to the practice area about 5 minutes early (amazingly enough). And sat there. And sat there. About 5:00, when no one else had showed up, B suggested I check my email. Although I had checked it at 4:30, right before I shut down the computer, I agreed and pulled out the crackberry. It was kind of strange that no one else was there yet, after all...
And there it was. The email canceling the 5:00 practice. Sent at 4:35. Because it was too cold, wet, and windy to practice. What. The. Hell. It had been cold and windy for four fucking hours by that point. The ground had been wet for ten hours. But they can't cancel the practice until 25 minutes before we're supposed to be there? Strike three. Maybe I should take myself out of the game before I hurt anyone...
I don't think I swore, but B got an earful on responsibility and how to behave when you are in charge and being considerate of other people's time. That is a big pet peeve of mine - don't waste people's time, most people don't have enough to begin with. And the last thing I wanted to do yesterday was have a meltdown with my son over a ball practice that could have been canceled around noon.
On the plus side, the rest of the evening went fine. J had tennis, so I'm sure he was just happy to be getting the hell out of the house, and I let the kiddos veg in front of the television while I read a book. All in all, it ended on a decent note, and I'm in a much better mood today. Thank god. Any more of that crappy mood and I was gonna put myself on the 10 day DL...
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