Mom's Nag Pad

I had one of those days when I was feeling completely unappreciated by my husband and daughters. On those days I take to my bed and say very little to them, and that's when they know something's wrong. For the next hour, I'll get that uncomfortable stare from the hallway, my family wincing as they ask the ridiculous question, "What's wrong, Mom?"

Sometimes, it just gets to be too much. After twenty years of marriage, I should expect that my husband can pick up on some of the clues, but you'd be surprised how dense men can still continue to be about these things. I guess I have to be married to him for thirty years before he figures out that a dirty house makes my skin crawl. (This is another issue all together and maybe I do need some therapy for OCD. No, I just like a clean house!)

The kids....well, they're just kids. Nineteen, 16 and 5, and unfortunately they're doing just what they should be doing; bitching, whining, and wailing. Guess there's not much I can do about that without sporting an orange jumpsuit and sharing a really ugly dorm room with a convicted felon.

I know I'm not alone. So, like a good housecleaning, I had it out with just about everyone and cleared the air. Now I realize in the long run, my house will never be a clean as I want it to be, but for right now, I'm feeling a little bit better.