Halala Mama

I am cranky as all hell lately.

Not just the little irritated, need some more sleep cranky.  The kind of cranky that would sear a piece of raw meat with just one look.  The kind of cranky that could result in a 911 call if you continue that behavior just one. more. time. where the you could be anyone and the behavior could be anything.

My hormones must be wildly out of control.

In the midst of this all consuming bitchy mood, Lorie called.  We chatted about this and that and I explained how I have been riding herd on my husband about a few things around the house, because 1. he does NOT listen when I tell him important things because I don’t look like Wolf Blitzer or have a CNN banner on my chest and 2. see #1.

I am considering walking around with the stuff I need him to know written out like news copy and randomly shouting the headlines until I get his full attention.

During the conversation, I was using my impossibly small food processor to grind up cooked potatoes for Adam’s lunch.   I know it’s loud.  I know it’s rude to multi task in a conversation.  I don’t care.

Lorie finally gave in, asking, “What IS that noise?”

“Food processor.  I’m making Adam’s lunch.”

A pause and a giggle then I added, “OR I’m grinding up Ismael’s parts.  Piece by piece.”

Lorie, who enjoys a taste of the macabre, joined in, “Ismael pudding?”

“Yeah, but I have a small processor, it’s going to take a long, long time.”

In all fairness, you should know

• I do love my husband.  I’m just going through a thing.  I have no plans to grind him up or buy a bigger food processor to make the job easier
• I had just explained to Lorie that Ismael drew my attention to Anderson Cooper on the DVRthis morning  because he insisted this woman with the squirrel in her shirt, “looked like Lorie.”   For the record, it does not and sharing that tidbit with her might not have been the best idea.

But just in case, I would steer clear of dessert at my house for a while.

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