Grumpy

I am a grump!

I went to bed grumpy, I woke up grumpy and all day I have remained grumpy. Yes, I know, it's "." week, that does bring out the grump in me. However, this is a deep routed grumpiness.

I cannot get back into my normal routine and it's driving me crazy.

You see, as an HR professional, I spend a large part of my day talking to people. If I'm not talking to people, I'm thinking about people. If I'm not talking to people or thinking about people, chances are I'm listening to people. It's a wonderful environment, I love what I do. But I spend a good part of my day being over stimulated. This is difficult, even for an extrovert like myself.

My solution- quiet time.
I don't get it in the office, if I do, it's never for long and its often interrupted. As it should be, I'm at work. I'm getting paid to be with people, think about people and talk to people.

Thus, I get my quiet time outside of the office. Typically I get an hour at lunch to go home, make something to eat, and stare blankly at whatever cooking show happens to be on the Food Network while I'm there. I get another hour or so when I get home. I use this time to workout. I can sweat out my problems and frustrations and get my head into the "at home" game.

Thanks to some quiet time, by the time Mr. Berg gets home, I'm refreshed, recharged and miles away from whatever problems were bothering me at work.

Since the arrival of FIL, I haven't really had a lot of time to myself. I get home at he's there, and he's been along all day, which means I'm suddenly entertainer, chef, travel agent, history student and answerer of 200 million questions. Plus, the cats are hungry. So I feed cats, answer questions, absorb information, give directions, prep food, and sort the mail. I try to determine why the floor is sticky (it wasn't when I left), I rinse and put dishes in the dishwasher that were left on the counter. I once again explain why we happen to like our Keurig coffee maker.

I'm in survival mode.

By the time I get to bed, I'm done. My brain is shot, yet swimming with thoughts and even if I tried, I can't focus to read a book or what TV. So I sit there, in my big comfortable bed, stewing in my own thoughts.... for 15 minutes. Then Mr. Berg joins me (he doesn't want to be alone with his dad either) and the whole process of 200 millions questions starts again.

I am spent. I just want my house back. But that won't happen until next week, sort of, I'll have a house full of painters Tuesday through Thursday.
I feel guilty and conflicted and like I'm the meanest wife on the face of the planet.
It's my husband's dad. My husband deserves the opportunity to spend time with his dad. He doesn't visit often, I should just grin and bare it.

And for the most part, I am.
But I almost cried on my way to work this morning. I can't take much more.
Am I the only person who thinks 12 days is an awfully long time to visit?
Mr. Berg gets the fun job of being the successful son. I get the job of being a wife, chef and entertainer.
My time and talents at my job are ignored because my industry is unrelateable.

I wish I had the magic answer for all of this.
I wish I wasn't so darn grumpy.