Is it hormones, or the rest of the world?

I feel like writing a letter to the people of the world telling them to stop riding my buns. There's a perfect storm of annoying situations in my professional life right now -- faceless bureaucracies, hopefully pushing the papers I want them to push and agreeing with my conclusions (which, unfortunately, require them to think about atypical circumstances). Unresponsive administrations who give me notice of meetings one day ahead of time, BY MAIL. Creditors (not mine!) who send nastygrams (yes, that's what attorneys call them). Whiny people who call me constantly and do not listen to the words that come out of my mouth, or worse, give me totally wrong info, requiring me to call other attorneys and set the record straight. Professional association flunkeys who take their frustrations out on me because I'm the low man on the totem pole. I could think of more, but I will limit it to the people I dealt with today.

I feel like I've been kicked in the nose by a horse. And then, after it's all over, we go through The Gauntlet, as I call my toddler's bedtime ritual. There's an ever-growing number of items he requires before he is able to relax. Right now, we are up to five matchbox cars, two blankets, his bottle, and maybe any number of other things. Slippers. Daddy, mommy -- whoever is absent. More stories. Lights on and/or off.

And then, finally, I get him into his crib. I turn around, and he says, "I'm wet, mama. Mama, I'm wet. I'm wet, mama. Mama, I'm wet..." while grabbing his crotch and pulling a face.

This is the kid who insists he hasn't shat as it squirts onto the floor. No, not really. But it smells like it has, and the little twit looks balefully at me, "No. I'm OK, mama. Mama, I'm OK. No dirty, mama. Mama, I'm OK ...."

*sigh* And there is a trickle of pee in the diaper, after all. Not the forty pounds of urine a diaper can hold, but. And then he tells me he needs to use the potty. And then he needs privacy. And to stand up.

AND THERE'S PEE ALL OVER OR JUST TWO DROPS AND MY HUSBAND HASN'T COME HOME YET AND I CAN'T STAND IT ANYMORE!

(panting).

I don't know. Perhaps this is just hormones. All I know is, I do not feel normal. I feel like ripping a person in half. Example: toddler and I were at the library today. We were the only people in the children's floor (the 2nd floor of the library), excepting the librarian. The kids' section has these toddler video games and toddler wanted to play and I was at my wits' end, so I allowed it. They had a little set of headphones at each computer station for the kids to use -- but the problem was, the instructions were only verbal, over the speakers, so I couldn't help kiddo to play because I had no idea what we were supposed to do. So, I unplugged the headphone jack. The computer's volume was pretty quiet -- I'm sure no one heard it except the librarian, who couldn't tell where it was coming from (we were about five feet away). After I waved to her and explained, she told me that the rules were that only headphone jacks could be used.

After I had plugged the kid back in and utterly failed to help him, I told her that I thought it was silly to insist upon a rule's being followed when making an exception didn't bother anyone. She said, "I'm a substitute for the day, so... Lots of libraries have two jacks, so you can splice in."

I let my face do the talking. But as we left she told me to have a nice day, and she almost lost her life right then. It took everything I had not to rip her a new one right there. I don't like tat expression, but in this case it was totally apt. Is it stupid? Yes. Should I get over it? Yes. Is this unbecoming? YES. So please tell me why I've spent the last hour thinking of things I could have said to ruin her day.