When my husband doesn't understand that even though he's ahead of me for the bathroom, I get firsties because I gave birth. Once you go through that process, there are "special" changes that a body goes through, aren't there. MmmmHmmm.
When my kid nods yes in agreement to chicken and broccoli for dinner, and I go ahead and make it, and then when the steaming plate is placed reverently in front of her, she's all, "I didn't want this, I wanted pizza."
When I start reading a book that is very popular and everyone says I must read it and when I finally get it and read it, I realize that I have very different tastes. (Which, translated means, the book is crap.)
When I realize that, yes, there's no way to get out of the fact that I have to clean my house.
And when I realize that dirty socks and towels really to spawn themselves.
But the number one frustration is when I don't get time to write. I become headachy and snarly and surly. It's been a few days, in fact, so - waaah! Get on out of here, and I mean it!