The GiftThat Just Keeps on Giving

So I've decided the only thing worse or even comparable to suffering from one's own PMS is living with a person who possesses half your DNA, who is also PMSing.  My daughter is 13.  Her and I are on the same 'schedule'.  Well really just as I'm re-evolving back into myself she is becoming possessed by some unpredictable mean girl named Julie.  Julie is just what I've decided to call her when she's suffering the throes of monthly mind/body/soul manipulation courtesy of Mother Nature.

I'm not bashing her.  I love her very much.  It's just that now I have an inside look into watching somebody you are familiar with turn into someone else altogether.   She's mean.  She's hard to please.  She's emotional.  Oh, wait, she's happy.  Um, wait, no she's not.  Somebody feed her some chocolate!  Yesterday I bought her some Midol type of pills and it made me think of that episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond" where Ray brings homes the pills to Debra and he's quite proud of himself and she nearly shoves them up his ass.  I envisioned a similar scene unfolding when I presented daughter with them yesterday.  Instead she just looked at me and barely acknowledged my presence.  I backed away quietly.

My dear daughter comes from a long line of women who are more than a little impacted by hormones.  None of us, to date, have had an easy go of it.  We could've written that new Kotex commercial with the awesome chic talking about twirling and kittens.  There is no escape. 

Now should things ever really line up and we both 'transform' at the exact same time, I'm afraid we'll have to rent an apartment in the name of sparing the penis-bearers in our home.  Because God help them, they couldn't say or do anything right for, at the very least, a few pivotal hours or so.  On the best of days it's trial and error but when Julie and Janet (my alter ego, I've decided) are around, it's nearly impossible.

Oh well, at 33 and 13, we respectively have approximately 20 and 30 or so years to go.  Maybe more, maybe less.  This seems so unfair.  I'm of the belief Mother Nature should back off until females are at least 16 and then once done child bearing, be done.  Not in a nasty night sweating hot flashing beard growing way, just done.  Or if you choose not to have children, once that decision is firmly made, you get to be done. 

Alas, I am not Mother Nature.  Just some poor soul with an alter-ego who makes a timed monthly appearance and a daughter following in the same path....

Bring on the Midol (for Julie, Janet prefers Vodka).

Rx: Fudgee-Os and Double-Stuffed Oreos

Yes boys and girls that dreaded time is upon me (and my household) once again.  I am a cranky bloated girl.  Luckily I am also enjoying a week off from work so the irritability level is ever so slightly down a notch.  Slightly.

Mostly I just want to lay on the couch in a caftan and stuff my face.  Then nap. With not being at work I have had serious naps the last two afternoons.  My poor six year old has not yet figured that mommy+movie in the afternoon= nap.  Or at the very least to keep a blanket away from me. Once I have the blanket I'm done.

Another bonus experience of being off work for this oh so joyful time of womanhood is I have worn sweatpants everyday this week. Earlier in the week I made the effort to wear jeans if I left the house.  Today, when I went to purchase said cookies, I not only wore my sweats but my hoodie which was covered in cat and dog hair from the couch and blanket at nap time.  Hot.

But I'm feeling somewhat satiated although more bloated as I just inhaled two Fudgee-Os, one Oreo and a glass of milk.  Some of you are scoffing right now as three cookies is really child's play.  What you may not have noted is the time.  It's not even 7 p.m. yet.  Silly children.  I will work my way through the rest of those cookies through the evening and probably partake of whatever's left for breakfast.

And then, just maybe, I'll twirl in slow motion...

If you don't get the twirling reference there is an awesome Kotex commercial out there right now...Google it and enjoy!