Call Me Cranky

So this hasn't been exactly The Best Week Ever. The last couple of weeks have been great, and while I would like to report that I am still having quite the stellar hair day, the rest of life in the Fitgzerald household is pretty stinky.

FrogBoy has a rash. This wouldn't upset most kids, but it upsets FrogBoy. We think it's an allergic reaction to something, but it's driving him nuts. Which means he's telling us about his "rashes" every 5 minutes. That never gets old.

Spanky is just acting contrary, as my Grandmama would say. Don't know what's gotten into him lately, could be more of that puberty thing, but he needs to stop.

And then there's SuperHubby. SuperHubby has a headache and a stomachache. Okay, that sounds like I'm whining, but if you know me/us, then you know head and stomach usually equal MUSC. And that's not good.

SuperHubby has assured me that he doesn't THINK that's the problem. Maybe it's the new medicine he's on. Maybe it's a virus. Maybe it's because it's Thursday. I don't really care what it IS, I want to know what it isn't. And I want to know now.

So I've been stressing the last few days. I've also been running through the crisis checklist in my brain. I don't think I'm going to have to use it -- I believe that God has healed him of all that brain surgery nonsense -- but it's hard not to revert to my old ways and line things up "just in case." And, of course, that just causes the crabbiness to shine through.

To top it all off, I'm trying my best to catch a cold. I hate that. So I'm cranky (or crankier than usual, depending on how you look at it). If you say "Good morning!" and I bite your head off, I offer one tidbit of advice: DON'T hug me! Don't even act nice. Just move on, and you may escape with your limbs intact.