Don't talk to me...

I'm ornery. I probably shouldn't blog when I am, but I need to get this out of my system. It started yesterday. Yesterday nothing really went wrong, but nothing really went right either. I hate days like that. Shawn was home a total of one hour---just long enough for us to remember how much fun it is to have him around. Then some lady decided she would give birth. He ended up spending the night at the hospital (actually not too uncommon) waiting for the delivery. This morning I woke up all the kids and we THOROUGHLY cleaned their bedrooms. I thought maybe it was the mess hidden behind their doors that was wierding me out. Nope. Still ornery. Shawn came home around 1 this afternoon and of course needed sleep because he was only able to catch a few hours between c-sections and more epidural dosings. I don't know what my issue is really. I guess I could blame it on the fact that I made homemade rolls yesterday and consumed almost 1/2 the batch MYSELF. Maybe it's because I feel like I've dredged up stuff that maybe should have been left alone, like maybe I've just said too much. Maybe it's because it's nearing the middle of July when my life gets turned upside down every year and some of the cool people I've come to love and see around all the time are moving. (you know who you are) As I write this the doorbell upstairs is constantly ringing because nobody is fast enough for the impatient child doing the ringing. See, usually that doesn't irritate me. I'm usually happy because it means my kids will have friends to go out and play with. Today it only irritates. I'm starting to come to the conclusion that maybe there are a few female hormones coming into play here (Dad, don't make the hormone joke, please, I can't take it today). I'm just going to take my ornery body upstairs and climb into bed, pull the covers over my head, and hide. Well, until reality hits and Shawn's pager goes off yet again...................