Well it's official, I'm in my manic stage. After all these years, you'd think I'd be able to read the signs.

I've been getting an incredible amount of housework and spring cleaning done. We completely redid our bedroom (almost finished).

I've been a bit cranky with the family because they're used of depressed mom not having the energy to care if they've done the dishes or similar chore on their night.

There was a major break down at my husband's job yesterday and he put in a 17 hour shift. He came home early today, and instead of being sympathetic because he's got to be dog tired, I was just really irritated that he was so slow finishing the closet + ten other small things that he has to finish before I can continue. I've got all the clothes washed and pressed, ready to return to be put away, but I cannot until he's finished with the trim.

When he snapped at me that he'd worked 17 hours the day before, slept four hours then put in another 6 today MY reaction wasn't sympathy. It was resentment that he feels obligated to stay at work until the job is done correctly but I have to beg, bribe, and nag to get him to put in the slightest bit of effort on home improvements.

It did not occur to me that the source of all of this turmoil is me. I crushed 10 big black bags of soda cans today that I'm donating because I waited so long to haul them in that I didn't want to bother them by bringing TEN bags of cans. This was a three hour project that kept me occupied while I was waiting for hubby to finish the closet.

Nope, a light didn't come on until I was standing in the shower scouring my clothes hampers with cleanser and a toothbrush and getting extremely annoyed that I may miss the only program that I look forward to all week (Lost) because there were four that I was cleaning today.

I so love my manic stages, and I missed them terribly, but I didn't realize until today that it also impacts my family relationships on every level.