Outnumbered Two to One

Maybe it’s because we’ve been so busy lately or maybe it’s the tension of the impending holiday season, but this month the PMS just caught me totally off guard.

Sure, I’ve been a little more anxious than usual but I attributed that to the forced social interactions - festivals, shows, baby showers - they all put me on edge. I do okay once I get to wherever I need to be - I smile, I laugh nervously, I socialize, I eat, I leave. But the precursor to that is a stressed out drama mama who changes her clothes five times, cries about the state of her hair, then walks around slamming drawers and cabinet doors for no reason.

How did I finally come to the obvious conclusion? I guess the two monster zits on the side of my face gave it away. It’s like a puberty flashback without the adolescent awkwardness, instead I’ve got thirtysomething awkwardness, which believe me, is not as endearing.

Then there’s the anger. That bubbling-up-in-the-pit-of-my-stomach fury that makes me want to shake the snot out of someone. (Not the kids, we have a don’t shake the kids rule…but maybe the dogs or a door to door salesman.)

It doesn’t help that the kids spent all day yelling at each other, which makes me yell at them, which makes everyone else yell even louder. I don’t even want to know what it sounds like on the outside, but I’m pretty sure the noise travels for at least a three block radius. So by the time my dear husband called me from work to wish me good-night and talk about my day, I was. just. not. feeling. it. The best I could do was grunt in periodic intervals and perhaps snicker in disdain. Any questions he may or may not have asked me were met with a combination of sighs, clicks and eye rolls he was not privy to since he was on the other end of the phone line.

It’s like everyone is suddenly irritating x 10 through no fault of their own.

It’s me, it’s all me.

Who am I kidding? It’s them, it’s all them.

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