Two days before Halloween, and what’s the scariest thing at our house? My bad mood. I am currently struggling through my sixth lousy day in a row thanks to sleep deprivation, hormones and a bit of anxiety thrown in for funsies. Sunday morning was typical of the last week: I yelled at my kids on the way to church, at church, and after church, despite my numerous Hail Mary’s for patience, and then lit into to my husband for raking leaves without consulting me. Did someone just drop a house on my sister?

My biggest issue is the not sleeping. I chalk this up to my “advanced maternal age” and perhaps a reduction in my thyroid meds. Stress is also contributing to my vampire-like nights, as work and chauffeur duties have become overwhelming. I wake up at 3 a.m. and can’t stop worrying about the logistics of life as a working mom. Between teaching ten hours a day and driving four kids all of over the city every evening, I barely remember to shower. Forget about good parenting. I’ve been so exhausted by 8 p.m. that I am incapable of helping with homework or bedtime. Truly frightening.

Yesterday my youngest laid this one on me: “I forgot my school folder because you weren’t here to remind me! All the other kids have mommies who stay at home!” She even squeezed out a tear, the little devil. I’ve been back to work for three years now, so I can’t totally blame my job for recent grouchiness. I actually enjoy going to school every day, even if it’s just to have a space to myself that actually stays clean after I leave. However, working with 175 teenagers is exhausting; lately I’ve had little left for my own kids. Talk about the walking dead.

Honestly, I’ve even reconsidered pharmaceutical assistance. A few years ago I tried Prozac to combat the moodiness, but I didn’t like the flat feeling. I wasn’t depressed, but I can’t say I was happy either. But maybe flat is better than evil.

The good part is that like a werewolf, my transformation is temporary. By next week, I’ll be back to myself again. The hormones will chill, I’ll be able to catch some z’s, and life will look brighter. I just have to figure out how to survive until then without my children or Doo shipping me off to the asylum. Although, after six days of acting like the Wicked Witch of West Carmel, a “facility” might be the perfect place to enjoy Halloween. Peace out.