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"Things have been going better than I could ever have imagined. I am writing for a living. Instead of cramming in my columns while the kids sleep, typing late into the evening, I have five hours, three days a week, to think while they are at school.  If I finish early (or my brain is feeling mushier than the oatmeal I served up this morning), I can take a leisurely stroll around the block. Built in the 1950s, nothing gives me greater pleasure than to check out all the flowers hanging over the white picket fences. I love the little kids&amp;#039; bicycles leaning against red doors\u2014so full of possibility for adventure and growth. Even that mangy little Chihuahua at the end of the street who barks like a rabid pit bull if I dare walk past its fence? I find his confidence charming. &amp;quot;I am David!&amp;quot; he insinuates with his shrieks, &amp;quot;I will take down all 6&amp;#039;1&amp;quot; of your pitiful giant&amp;#039;s frame and still find time to star in my own Taco Bell commercial.&amp;quot;  Adding to my contentment is, after 10 years of pushing and pulling against each other, Rex and I have finally settled into a comfortable zone of, &amp;quot;You make me happy, I&amp;#039;ll make you happy.&amp;quot;  One of Rex&amp;#039;s contributions to this new motto is to take over the laundry. My only job: Don&amp;#039;t touch the baskets. Not an inch, not a millimeter. &amp;quot;I have a system,&amp;quot; he is fond of reminding me. Given that my system is to wait until I&amp;#039;m down to a pair of period-stained grandma briefs and a sports bra, he doesn&amp;#039;t have to tell me twice. This fine balance of family and work is what I always dreamed my life would be. And yet, today I am not feeling content in all of life&amp;#039;s pleasures. Translation: I&amp;#039;m one cranky bitch. I&amp;#039;m frustrated by this state of affairs, because frankly, I have it better than so many others. I&amp;#039;m not fighting in Iraq. I&amp;#039;m not killing myself to put food on the table. My kids are healthy. My husband has accepted my obsession with Diet Coke and Mother&amp;#039;s animal cookies as less &amp;quot;gluttony&amp;quot; and more &amp;quot;charmingly Andrea.&amp;quot; I&amp;#039;m even easing my way down to my goal weight: 175 pounds... here I come!  WHAT IS MY PROBLEM??????? If I talked to my friend, Cecelia, she might suggest, &amp;quot;You need some time away from home. How about a girls&amp;#039; day at the spa with that certificate I gave you?&amp;quot;  This sounds good, but not only can I not find my gift card, I&amp;#039;m not a spa girl. Seeing other women naked, with breasts firmer than my house&amp;#039;s foundation, isn&amp;#039;t going to make me feel better about my post-baby boobs, currently in a gold medal race to see who can hit my midsection first. My cousin, Dee, might offer, &amp;quot;You need a trip to San Jose. I will buy the kids lunch and you can sleep in front of the TV. I&amp;#039;ll rent Grease! We&amp;#039;ll dance to bad &amp;#039;80s music... Why is Arfie (my nickname) cranky?&amp;quot; she&amp;#039;d pine. Without even waiting for a reply, she&amp;#039;d answer herself, &amp;quot;Que Sera Que Sera!&amp;quot; (Anybody remember that song?). If I talked to my mother, she&amp;#039;d offer to take the kids so I could spend some time at my favorite thrift stores, or at the grocery store without little voices begging me for fruit roll-ups... or a plunger. Why a five-year-old and three-year-old need a plunger is beyond me, but it doesn&amp;#039;t stop them from begging for it every time we pass the toiletry section. But I digress. Letting my mom watch the kids would just make me feel worse. Why should a 77-year-old woman take over for a 37-year-old woman who shouldn&amp;#039;t be cranky in the first place? If I complained to Rex, he&amp;#039;d likely suggest a combo of the three: Something that involves physical activity, massage and adult time away from the kids.  &amp;quot;Sex? Is that all you can think about?&amp;quot; I&amp;#039;d say, trying not to snap. I wouldn&amp;#039;t want to hurt his feelings. And more to the point, I&amp;#039;d hate for him to stop doing the laundry. &amp;quot;Sometimes you need to not think,&amp;quot; he&amp;#039;d predictably respond.  And, though it&amp;#039;s counterintuitive to not thinking, the more I think about what he would probably think, the more I think he is probably right.  Sometimes, when a gal is cranky, she needs to say, &amp;quot;Screw it.&amp;quot; And more than just say it, there&amp;#039;s a time to just do it\u2014which I&amp;#039;m going to do. I&amp;#039;m going to give in to the passion... as soon as I can muster up some passion in the first place! Which is going to happen as soon as I finish this blog entry! And take a bath! And fold just a few more towels because I&amp;#039;m kind of OCD that way! And then, oh, yes, I&amp;#039;m going to just screw it! I only hope that by the time I&amp;#039;m unwound, Rex won&amp;#039;t be so unwound from waiting for me to unwind that he&amp;#039;s passed out on the couch.  Then I&amp;#039;d really be screwed. Some days, you just can&amp;#039;t win. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/relationships/a20280/sex-blog-cooking-and-destress/>