I've come to the conclusion that the earlier I go to bed and the more sleep I get, the grouchier I become.
Maybe it's my body's way of telling me how sleep deprived I really am. Because on more than one occasion this week I have either fallen asleep the second I sit down after dinner, skipped my walk with the dog, and gone to bed at least two hours earlier than normal. Then dragged myself out of bed later than normal and struggled all day trying to stay awake. And be happy while staying awake.
It goes against all scientific fact.
Today was no different. I went to bed at the same time as Jeff... which he absolutely HATES! Hates! He likes me to come to bed a few hours after he's fallen asleep. Then I could barely open my eyes and shut my mouth which was drooling all over my pillow when the kids woke up. It literally hurt to get out of bed. I drug my feet getting showered and dressed and after going with the family to look at playgrounds {Jeff told Fern he would buy him anything he wanted if he started to work on potty training... even if it kills us in the process}, sat down on the couch, fell asleep, and drooled all over my sweatshirt.
Attractive.
It wasn't until 2 in the afternoon that I finally got a spark to do something.
I told Jeff, "I'm in a cleaning mood. Just stay out of my way."
He smiled. A really big smile. And he stayed out of my way all day, happily plopped on the couch watching NCAA tournament games.
Cole and I - my always eager helper - managed to vacuum, dust the living room and dining room, sort the laundry, get out the Easter decorations, plan the week's meals, make lasagna, go to the grocery store, and buy the dog some food and treats at the pet store before we both petered out.
I wish I knew what set off that cleaning mood. Because I have yet to find myself a house elf. Or finish the laundry.
