Crabcake

Ben was crabby last night. Mostly because he works with a bunch of damned idiots who can't pull their heads out of their own asses without calling him 20 times to ask him how to do it. He wasn't necessarily crabby with us, but he was just crabby.

My question is this--why the hell can't men admit when they're crabby?

I mean, do they just not know what crabby is? Do they lack the self-awareness to think, "hey, I'm crabby today"? Or are they just so self-centered (and wrong) they think only women have bad moods because, after all, only women have periods and hormones and therefore are the only gender susceptible to mood swings?

I asked him twice last night if everything was okay, because he just seemed to be wandering about the kitchen making dinner with a scowl on his face. Both times he looked at me like I'd asked him if he wanted me to give him one of my kidneys. "I'm fine, why?" I finally just came out and said it--"you're crabby tonight."

"No, I'm not." All indignant. Not unlike I get from my almost-5-year-old, but you didn't hear that from me.

I tried to ignore it the best I could because heaven knows the man has put up with a lot of moodiness from me over the last few months. But damn, I was grateful when he finally said "can we go to bed now? I'm tired."

Bob was crabby, too. He gave me attitude pretty much from the time I picked him up, culminating in our walk home from the park, when he told me "I hate you!" and I said "you better shut your mouth and walk--and you're going to bed when we get home." He apologized, mostly to avoid an early bedtime, but I was pissed. The kid is not hurting for anything--possessions or attention--and he's turning into quite the little spoiled brat. He can whine about all the things he doesn't get til the cows come home, but he's not going to resort to "I hate you" whenever he feels like it. So I kind of kept my distance after we got home and cleaned the kitchen. When I finally joined him and Ben in the living room, he immediately said "Mommy, I'm sorry I was rude to you. I love you." And I could tell he was genuinely sorry. I have to admit, I was highly impressed by that demonstration of maturity.

Maybe we're all crabby because it's the end of summer, and as much as summer rocks, it can be kind of a drag. Long days spent trying to cram as much fun as possible into each one. Ridiculous heat. Lots of sun. The pressure of "enjoy it now, because it will be over soon." I find myself almost looking forward to fall.

But I can assure you, come December, I'll be counting down the days til spring and bitching about how much I hate winter.