Things that make you go, "Why?"

I may have said it before, but I'm feeling a little irritable. I feel like people are walking on eggshells around me when I leave the house. I'm trying not to leave the house much so that I'm not seen behaving badly, but I'm at home right now, so I'll behave as badly as I want. Things keep happening that make me scratch my head. I thought I'd share a few with you.

First, I'll get the very very petty out of the way. Forgive me. Seriously. In college we had a rule called "Sweatshirt = Bra." Those morning classes just didn't always leave time for proper dress and grooming, and, though it was wrong even then, almost everyone was occasionally guilty. I never could bring myself to do it, though I'm often guilty of tshirt=bra at home. Anyway, what I'm getting to here is that anyone who has had children (or just has big boobs) knows that she can no longer get away with something like this outisde the privacy of her own home and would thus never attempt it. Right? Right? Oh, but I can prove my own theory wrong any day of the week. I'm telling you - school pickup/dropoff is like a sociology experiement gone awry. Something about racing against the clock brings out the worst in people, but it also brings out the just plain wrong! Now, I will not hold pajamas against anyone. I have no problem with pajamas in public. Just please put on a bra before walking your child to the school doors each morning in a tshirt. And stopping to chat with others. It's not okay. NOT OK! Why even try it? And every morning?!? Come on! Remember I said you'd need to forgive me? I know, but I've been dying to say that.

Okay, then...now that that's out of the way, I have a few at home issues I need to address.

I've noticed that my children are having memory problems. Why is it that, though they can remember bizarre, obscure things from 2 or 3 years ago, they cannot remember that Mommy was not skinny before this baby was in her tummy? My kids are saying things like, "...after you have the baby and are skinny again... ." I want them to understand that Cindy Crawford ain't coming home in place of their hefty ol' mom, but preferably without an in-depth and unnecessary body image discussion. Ryan won't touch this one with a 50 foot pole. Any suggestions?

Also, I've noticed that no matter how much I tidy up the kitchen, do the dishes, wash and dry the laundry, sweep, vaccum, wipe things down, and clean things out, it's all back again every day. This should not be, and I have to ask: "Why?" And how many hours would you honestly have to put in every day to have a really clean house? And would that even be worth it?

Now I'm going to complain some about my husband. I know, you're schocked! But, seriously, I married a very very intelligent man, so it baffles me when he does things like this:

Decides the trash can is not sufficient for the leftover food on his plate, and opts for the sink. Fine. I can live with that. Really, for the most part, that's what the disposal is designed for, right? Only, one would expect the food bits to end up on that side of the sink, and they never do. Why? Really. Why? Ryan, if you're reading this, aim either 3 feet to the left, and hit the trash, or 6 inches to the right, and hit the side of the sink with the disposal. No brainer.

Or this:

Decides to sneak a bowl of ice cream in our bedroom between dinner and bedtime (presumably so the kids won't see and ask for some), and then determines that the bathroom sink is an appropriate place to dump its melted contents when he dosen't finish it. That I would also live with except that this ice cream had chocolate shavings, and guess what? They get caught between the stopper and the sink. And when you try to force them down with hot water, it makes a mess. One that I had to clean up, by the way.

And to be fair, I also do dumb things and have to ask myself "why" later. So, I'm pretty lactose intolerant, but sometimes I decide to just check and see if things have gotten better. This is never a very good idea. Usually violent trips to the bathroom and hours of stomach cramps ensue if I walk near actual milk. Last night was one of those experimental nights, but I thought that glass of milk was going to go down without any fireworks. Then, getting ready for bed last night I realized I was suddenly gassy as a BP station, but it wasn't that bothersome to me, so I just went to bed. I woke up a few times to pee, like normal, and I noticed I was still quite farty, but each time I just went back to sleep without any trouble. Each time I also tried to snuggle up next to Ryan, who I couldn't help but notice was wrapped head to toe in his own blanket and way on the other side of the bed. Weirder things have happened. This morning Alex woke up early and got into our bed. If he does that, I normally make him lie down beside me on my side of the bed, but this morning I let him get between us. Then I dipped into my reserves of passive-agressivity and said something to the effect that he might as well, since daddy doesn't want to be close to mommy. No reply. Grrr. So, I try the direct approach: "Ryan, why are you over on the very edge of the bed? I'm a little offended that you kept moving further over every time I got back in the bed last night." To which he replied, "Jess, what am I supposed to do? You farted all night long! Do you want me to let you just fart all over me so your feelings aren't hurt?" What? What?!? I'll spare you the rest of the conversation (though Alex loved it!) and simply say that apparently I put on quite the acoustics show last night while sleeping. Didn't bother me any. Though maybe I shouldn't have had that glass of milk before bed.

Anyway, I obviously have nothing important to say. Just felt like sharing. Anything bugging you?