Don’t ask me what my problem is, but tonight I feel like a stick of dynamite just waiting for someone to walk by with a cigarette so I can blow their freaking head off.

Why do I do this?

I have great kids. They’re no better or worse than the next kids, and as far as nicely average goes I’d say they do all right. But for some totally illogical reason that probably has part to do with my hormone level and part to do with all the sugar I ate today (seriously, it affects my mood in the worst way) I feel like I’m about to rip somebody’s toes off.

Not that they’re perfect. I made cookie dough tonight so I could send treats back with all the empty pans littering my dining room from the post-accident dinners. I had to run overto the neighbor’s for a moment and when I came back over 2 cups of cookie dough–nearly half of what I’d made–was missing.

This is what happens when you trust an 8 and 6 year old to stay home alone for seven minutes while you run next door to drop something off.

The missing cookie dough (which I hate making and hate baking because I can’t stay out of it) meant that I had barely enough left to eek out the necessary amount of cookies.

So of course I burnt one of the pans because guess what? GERMAN OVENS DON’T HAVE TIMERS.

I think my real problem is that the house is a mess. I love Sundays but I must say that keeping the Sabbath Day Holy (in my case that means taking a rest from my day to day cleaning and cooking) is way harder than spending the day picking up and putting away like usual. My house is trashed and tomorrow is going to be really stupid.

This is a glimpse at tonight’s mood. I am sure that by the time the kids are tucked away in bed and Jason has done the dishes I’ll feel a whole lot better.

Man I wish there was a magic pill for grumpy. I hate grumpy.