Kwitchurbelyakin

My Grandma had a little handpainted sign over her kitchen door that said, "Kwitchurbelyakin." It took me the first three of my reading years to understand what it said, another year to get over the misspelling, and I'm still trying to obey the injunction. The fact of the matter is that today, I feel like "belyakin," and by gum, I'm going to!

For starters, what is this about?! "Tonight: Rain and snow showers this evening transitioning to snow showers overnight. Cold. Low 29F." I'm OK with April showers, but this is ridiculous. And cold. And I spent yesterday (after five days of temps in the 70s and 80s) pulling winter clothes out of the boys' drawers as I did laundry. It's supposed to be SPRING, for crying out loud!

Secondly, I ordered my dream toy for Easter/springtime fun. There were no color options when ordering. In fact, online it looks like the little one is always yellow and the big one is always red. The yellow was the selling point for me, obviously. It arrived yesterday, and it's RED. Waaaaaa. It's still cool, and I'm still going to roll the boys to the park in it sometime, but red? Are the stars stacked against me, or what?

Thirdly, running laundry through and folding it all should not make one feel like a train ran over her at the end of the day, but it did. And I was grouchy and instead of saying "hi" to David when he came in I yelled at him to take the boys out for chicken nuggets. The boys weren't even bad or high maintenance yesterday, it's just that my butt hurt. And when mama's butt hurts, ain't nobody happy. Apparently.

The other thing is that I don't like the new universal law I am discovering in the world of living with preschoolers:

For every minute of work being completed in one room, there is an equal or double amount of work being created in an opposite room.

When I have a big job that I've procrastinated until it's a huge job, I finally get into a mode of "get it done, get it done, get it done," a little like a runaway train. That's where I was yesterday with the laundry/seasonal clothes/tiny baby clothes (and oh! are they tiny!). I checked in with the boys every so often, but wow. Along with a wife gone mad, David was also greeted by a living room in shambles when he walked in last night. Shoot. And he didn't say anything, just packed up the boys and left, then later told me thanks for all the work on the laundry.

So that's not really belyakin, I guess. Maybe it's an apology to a very nice husband for being loving and appreciative to a pregnant ogre hellbent on getting laundry in drawers and pairing every. last. sock. in the house. Even if it kills her.

And now it's also a little "I'm sorry," to the boy who just asked me a question while I'm being a runaway train at the computer. I answered um, a little distractedly? To which he replied: "I'll stop asking questions so you won't get so tired from me asking things." I said, "You can ask me things, Cal, I really don't mind." His response? "Then why did you say, 'uggghhhhhhh?'"

I promise, the "uggghhhhhhh" was barely audible! I mean, you could hardly hear the "ggg" part - it was more like a little sigh...

I just want sunshine and comfortable sleep. And for no one in the house to wear any clothes for at least the next 61 days, so that ogre laundry lady won't surface again before this baby is born.