Spring cleaning and other myths

To further the myth that Gabriel is a cleaning freak, I give you:

This is Gabriel picking up a bunch of sticks lying all skeewumpus all over the sidewalk

This is Gabriel putting them on the grass...where they belong

And that's pretty much how our walks go.  Gabriel gets annoyed at Nature's inability to clean up after herself (an experience which could be called "Gabriel's Parenthood Prep 1010) and puts as many sticks/leaves/rocks back on the lawns as he can.  Fortunately, he's in the stroller when we go past the temple...there, it isn't sticks and leaves, it's dried out, nastified worms.  Urg.

Meanwhile, back on the Alfred Ranch, there isn't much spring cleaning going on.  This is mostly because I'm in rebellion due to Mother Nature's refusal to get with the program and let the temperature get above 45. Also, some sun would be nice.   Not that I'm bitter.  OK, maybe I'm a little bitter. 

My apparent bitterness might be traced to 1) the muddy state of our backyard, which makes sweeping--let alone mopping--an exercise in futility, but doesn't make me less annoyed by the state of my floors.  Or, 2)  I'm still fuming about a recently-returned suitcase of dirty clothes (which may or may not be the suitcase of previously-unstained/torn clothes mentioned in my previous post, oh the irony).  This really chaps my hide because FOR THE LOVE it's common courtesy to clean up after yourself.  Don't send your messes back for other people to take care of, and don't treat me like your personal servant, especially an unpaid, un-thanked one.  I don't mind a day or two worth of dirty clothes...but a week's worth?  FURTHER IRONY:  I do their laundry 42 weeks out of the year; I don't know why bumping it to 43 made me so angry, I certainly don't mind making sure they are cared for...probably something about entitlement and selfishness and an inability to realize that the world doesn't revolve around any one individual (unless it's me) (that was sarcasm) (mostly). 

It has recently come to my attention that I have some anger issues.  Also, I've recently decided--believe it or not, given that lovely rant--that I'm sick of being angry.  AND, I've realized that She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is functioning as a fabulous lightning rod for all of my pent up anger...which is especially nice if you're one of a few other people in my life that you would think I'd be ragingly angry with but, strangely, am not.  I guess I can only rage against one person at a time.

IMPORTANT DETAIL:  I take great care NOT to rage (about You-Know-Who, at least) in front of the boys.  However, this level of rage is impossible to hide completely, which is why  I'm sick of being angry.  They don't need to deal with my garbage on top of what they already have.  Also, this level of anger takes a lot of energy to maintain, and this stupid gestational diabetes diet doesn't let me eat that much.  Which brings us to...

The third reason I might possibly be excessively bitter:  after a month or so of weaseling chocolate into my day under the justification of "but I haven't technically been diagnosed," that train has left the station, and the other shoe dropped on Monday (let's see how many bad expressions I can work into this).  I am officially the annoyed recipient of a gestational diabetes diagnosis.  Mercifully, my usually uber-careful doc decided that the full three-hour test would be redundant, given my history.  Thank heavens.  They run out of new places to collect blood during the second hour and it just gets painful.  Regardless, the diagnosis is there, and--for all that it isn't surprising--the comfort eater in me finds the timing to be awful.  If I could just have a chocolate cake donut smeared with homemade whipped cream, all of my anger would mysteriously disappear, at least temporarily (only to come back in the form of guilt over having potentially harmed the fetus).

So, in an attempt to spring clean my attitude, I'm trying to focus on the things that AREN'T bugging me, like...

Gabriel's mad reading skillz

My awesome sister-in-law, Elizabeth, who really is awesome.  This is especially great since I only get one sister-in-law.  Plus, she's got mad kid distracting skillz.  Added bonus.

My cute nieces and nephews, even when they teach Gabriel naughty things.  I love how carefully Tess placed the plant on the floor before climbing into the niche.  Neatness counts, especially when performing acts of naughtiness.

Elijah's birthday and his accursed cake that never seemed to go away.  Also, the fact that the mirror-Alfreds were good sports and ate the cake even though Elijah obnoxiously coughed the candles out.  Facepalm!

Mr. McMoody Pants got his new, hip glasses.  You know, I should cut Ethan some slack.  Lately, I'm giving him a run for his money in the "overly sensitive and emotional" department.  Pregnant women and preteens...I tell ya, it's a bad combo.

Last but not least, my wonderful husband...who puts up with us all.  Thanks for that...