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"&amp;quot;Because I said so!&amp;quot; &amp;quot;I did not say I&amp;#039;d get that for you. I hate when you lie.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Who do you think is cuter \u2013 her or me?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Do you like the way this looks?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Hey, stop that! I mean it! DON&amp;#039;T TOUCH ME!&amp;quot;  These are the sounds of my children and a playmate currently squished together in a kiddie pool no larger than four feet around. Despite having slept 9 hours the night before, having eaten a breakfast, lunch and snack, attending a toddler rock concert and being given tiny trinkets &amp;quot;just because&amp;quot;, they are still cranky.  Or perhaps because of it. Their dialogue is very similar to Rex and mine if we don&amp;#039;t keep the bottomless pit of need known as &amp;quot;the gimme gimme&amp;#039;s&amp;quot; at bay. Like children, it seems that sometimes the more we do for the other person, the more the other person wants. We become jaded, spoiled, and all to lackaidaisical with our gratitude. What was once cherished as a special gift gets taken for granted. Like a lovely bowl of nectarines that sits idly in our fruit basket, it rots, rendering the snack useless and, worse case, putrid. I wasn&amp;#039;t on my best behavior this weekend. I could blame it on my children&amp;#039;s incessant whining, but perhaps I should blame it on mine. My kids are like dogs: they smell insecurity. When I&amp;#039;m on my game, they stand by my side \u2013 ears perked at attention. They&amp;#039;re ready to please and sit by side like friendly, loyal companions, occasionally offering sloppy wet kisses of encouragement. But should my leadership waver, woe to my un-dog proofed home. They jump, scramble and tangle their imaginary leashes in knots of capriciousness, as if attempting to mess with me. And boy, do they succeed.  Which then gets me pissy. Which then gets Rex pissy.  By Sunday night, I had complained and screamed more than my children, making me not only a cranky but a hypocrite as well. It&amp;#039;s sort of double sided of me to raise up my children into competent adults when I&amp;#039;m descending into a childish tantrum. I was frustrated, and furious, and stressed, but mostly ashamed. Because I&amp;#039;m better than that whiner. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m sorry. I&amp;#039;ve been kind of off this weekend,&amp;quot; I told Rex. &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s kind of like living with Super Bitch, huh?&amp;quot; Rex looked up from his paper. &amp;quot;I wouldn&amp;#039;t call you Super Bitch,&amp;quot; he responded. That&amp;#039;s my husband \u2013 so understanding. &amp;quot;Wonder Bitch is more like it.&amp;quot; And that just made me laugh. Because honesty is one of Rex&amp;#039;s best qualities. Mine is a good sense of humor, followed by a quick roll in the hay. If that&amp;#039;s not putting aside the ungratefulness and showing the best kind of gratitude, I don&amp;#039;t know what is.  "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/relationships/a2648/cranky-sex/?src=shelter_footer>