When we were about to move, and one of my traumatized kids decided to start peeing all over every inch of everything (note: NOT an exaggeration) in hopes that it would keep us from moving ... I wrote the "What You Do With Pee" song. Don't freak out. I'm not going to write a "What You Do With Your Menstrual Cycle" follow-up.
Well, not one that I can post to YouTube, anyway. I do have it already half written in my head. But instead, I just wander around mumbling, "Oh, bloody hellll." I turn up music and dance while I'm cooking dinner. I cry because I am also hormonal and just extremely pissed off and annoyed (GREAT combination, by the way - you should totally try it). I play Words With Friends, and laugh and grin and blush at some of my wonderfully raunchy friends who keep me going (who knew Scrabble could be so entertaining?).
I pace myself.
My husband was just (days ago) hired on full time at a local school district, which is GREAT, and he will be using all of that math certification to teach some applied math courses as well as nerdy schmerdy technology-based engineering. Great, right? Yes, except that he got the job and immediately had to get on a plane to New Hampshire for a week-long conference on said software.
"Oh, bloody hellll."
The truth is, just like the pee, it is not the end of the world. If my house is covered in "Oh, bloody hellll" for the next year, it will get cleaned up. Every single month is a practice for the heart and the mind.
Oh, did you think I was talking about HER? Ohhhhh, no. I was talking about me. I am supposed to be playing this down. I am supposed to help her find a way to repair the hurtful choices and move along. I am supposed to be doing this while my own hormonal challenges are lined up so beautifully in sync with the other two cycles in the house.
Yet, if I can't do it ... me, the person who was raised in a home full of normal chaos and oodles of love and encouragement and support and attachment from the very first day ... if I can't do it, then how the "Oh, bloody hellll" am I supposed to expect her to?
Say it with me in your crappiest British accent ...
"Oh. bloody. hellll."
(photo by Billy Alexander, used with permission)
5 comments:
Just in case you don't know--and you probably do because you are a knower of everything!--plain old peroxide in the brown bottle works very well at cleaning up the bloody hell. Fascinating to watch in a gory, CSI type way.
My experience so far is a what you do with pee and poop type. Since my only RAD kiddo is a boy, I don't foresee a bloody hell moment. But there's time. RAD might become infectious and hit his little sister!
HA!
Seriously, try the peroxide. That is, if it doesn't somehow offend your sensibilities! If it does, sorry--I totally understand!
Ahhh, Hormones. . .
Congrats to Michael on the new job!
I about cried tears of joy when the doctor told me Princess has at least three years til puberty. Three years to see how far we can get...
Anastasia is in sync with you from this far away....and things [obviously - thanks for the reminder] could be much worse. No messes here; but hands around my throat, wadded up paper thrown in my face, etc. etc. and so forth!
First of all. I just got a Bissell Spot Bot. How did I live without it. It cleans and entertains me at the same time. Second, when all your girls are on the same cycle as you and you are all hormonal and crying then Michael will jump on a plane just to hide! Congrats on the job!
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