(also a lover, child and mother, sinner and saint...but those are for another time)
i'm just a huge bitch.
probably as bad as, say--Kyle's Mom.
he just says the wrong things sometimes and it triggers a little switch and i want to go jump up and down on his neck.
"do we have pancakes?"
"what are the chances that some could be procured?" he sweetly replies...
and that's all it took.
he didn't know i was only upstairs in our room to gather a load of laundry to put it, collect the remote for the downstairs tv so i could pvr a bob the builder for the boys, grab my clothes so i could go get dressed somewhere else because HIS son was in our bed watching tv with him, AND find the discarded (clean) diaper of twin A which he had removed and still return to the downstairs bathroom to finish the q-tipping, deodorizing, moisturizing part of my post shower ritual--which was only interupted by twin A demanding that i fix his diaper.
i wasn't busy.
sure i had time to make some fucking pancakes for the ones who got to sleep two hours later than I.
no fucking problem.
why not fresh made crepes with homemade sauces and fillings and fresh squeezed orange juice, possibly an omelette?
it'll just take an hour or so.
i'll get right the fuck on it.
oddly enough, i feel better now.
of course, i already felt like a royal jerkoff for snapping at him.
he's so cuddly sweet.