Be forewarned: This blog post ain’t gon’ be pretty.

I cannot remember the last time I have had so many consecutive days of absolute pissed-off-ness.

Many of you know that Washington was hit by uncharacteristically chilly and anti-summer-like conditions until,  let’s see… oh, that’s right: Tuesday.

Personally, I liked the cooler weather. I hate being hot, unless I choose to be hot (like working out and, um, “other” physical activity). Don’t get me wrong, I whined over the lack of sunshine like the rest of Washington. I didn’t, however, whine about wanting to roast like a bloated, pissed off marshmallow in my own house.

No. Sir. Eee.

Clint has been sick since Monday. I feel bad for the guy, I really do. He rarely gets sick, but when he does, it knocks him on his ass. This time was no exception. He stayed in bed Monday night and was home from work Tuesday and Wednesday. He helped me out when he could, yet I found myself resenting him a little bit.

I mean, I don’t get to lie down when I want, and get up and help when I’m feeling up to it when I’m sick. I don’t get to call in sick to work. Heck, my work jumps all over me and poops huge nasties when I’m sick. My work still expects me to play short order cook and entertain it- erm, I mean them.

Of course, that’s totally unfair to Clint, who really was helping as much as he could and even gave me those puppy-dog eyes and said, “It’s really not fair that you don’t get to take time off when you’re sick.”

That should’ve been comforting to me, his admitting to that fact, but for some reason, it made me more frustrated.

What was cruddy was that I was feeling like I was starting to get sick. I’ve been popping Zicam like there’s no tomorrow, and so far so good on staying free and clear of his virus, but still, there’s that teensy inkling of feeling yucky. Clint’s still under the weather, which has made me feel like I’m taking a lot more than my usual share of the housework and kid duties. Plus, it caused us to have  to cancel some plans for this weekend. Phooey. It truly puts into perspective how much he does in our family… and I want him back because I’m getting burnt out way fast.

To make this all even worse and less bearable, I have been feeling like I’m going to get my period “any minute now” for the past two weeks.

That, in and of itself, is enough to drive me insane.

Possibly the worst part of all of this… and I’m scared to admit it, because I’m  worried that my doctor is going to be pissed at me… is that I unintentionally stopped taking my antidepressant cold turkey. {Bad Lindsay, BAD!} I completely forgot to take it while we were away this past weekend, then was out of the routine completely by the time it occurred to me on Wednesday. By that point, I was realizing that a lot of what I was experiencing (headaches, my mood issues, etc.) was sort of a withdrawal from the meds, and since I want to go off of them anyway (I took it for PPD), I figured why not suck it up and stick out the last few days of yuckiness instead of going back on them and starting from square one to wean off of them.

Alright, that was bad. Thankfully, I was on a low dosage, so it’s not like I need the antidepressants to function by any means. Hopefully I’m fine off of them now (and hopefully I’m not in trouble w/ my doctor)…

I keep trying to remind myself that last year, when I was super pregnant with twins and the weather was insanely hot, was far more unbearable.

Somehow, though, the memories of my huge belly preventing me from even bending down, the sweat dripping from my underboob and underbelly, my huge thighs sticking together, those awful jiggly arms and cankles… they didn’t make me any less agitated. Maybe even worse, remembering last summer so vividly.

So, yeah, it’s been a pissy week for me. Of course, I haven’t been a mega bitch the whole time, I’ve just had my moments. And, of course, my pissiness has been geared toward shaking my fist at the sky because it’s too hot or snapping at my kids because they  jumped in a pile of dirt merely seconds after cleaning them off to get into the car (ahem, Lily).

Of course, I’ve snapped at Clint too. Poor man. It’s a wonder he still wants to be married to me after this week. Getting annoyed with him over being sick and snapping at him for really no good reason? What am I, the wife from hell?

{That was rhetorical.}

Today, I’ve been working on purposefully not being pissy at my kids. Just 30 mins ago, Lily was whining for something.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand whining,” I said calmly.

Whiiine. Mumblemumble. Whiiiine.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand whining,” I repeated, still calm.

Whiiiiine! WHIIIINE! *Yaaawn* Whiiiiiiine!

“I’m sorry, I’d love to help you, really I would, but I don’t understand whining,” I sighed.

This charade went on for at least 5 minutes until she finally stopped whining and asked me in a normal voice to help her put mittens on her hands.

Oh, yes. Mittens. Despite the 85 degrees that shrouds the inside of our house, my daughter wanted mittens. And then, I put her down for a nap. You can’t put yawns past a mama.

It hasn’t been a horrendous week, though. I did get to run a few errands sans kids since Clint was home at nap time. I got to watch two super cute kids on Wednesday and found my new little boyfriend in a wobbly-legged snuggler named Matty. We tried out a new water park in the area with some other friends (though it was so insane, our stay was brief). Yesterday, I saw a friend I hadn’t seen in a while and went to two playdates… the kids were exhausted at the end of the day, which is always a good sign.

And right now… right now is goooood. I’m sitting, warm, but not hot, venting on my blog. The kids are napping or having quiet time. Pandora is playing some excellent tunes. I have dinner in the crock pot and a pot of coffee chilled in the refrigerator just begging to be poured over ice.

I take that back. The heat has woken the twins up after a piddly 30 minutes.

At least I still have my iced coffee.

Side Note: Initially, I wanted to try to censor the first word in the title, since it is a little bit inappropriate. I considered replacing the “i” with an asterisk. Turns out, that makes it P*ssy Mom Thoughts and I dunno ’bout you, but that word looks far more inappropriate than “Pissy,” so I stuck with my original title.