PMS Is Real (P.S. We’re Out of Wine)

Warning: This post is NSFM (Not Safe For Men)

Yesterday, the unthinkable happened in our house. My legendarily bad PMS collided with both of my boys’ worst behavior EVER to form an epic tsunami of parenting shit. It was the perfect storm. From the beginning of the day to the end, both boys were completely off. I knew things were going to go badly when I had to put my six-year-old in timeout in the morning, as he is usually my golden boy. Of course, if you saw my post yesterday, you know he organized all the shoes in the closet, so I guess it wasn’t all bad. But it was mostly bad.

Folks, it’s been a tough summer, and a lot of it is due to my lack of scheduling abilities. One of my boys goes to camp in the morning and one in the afternoon, and due to a traumatic pants-wetting episode, one of them has refused to go this week altogether … hence the day I had yesterday. I can’t even go to the bathroom without someone asking me for something. It’s like they don’t even see that I’m sitting on the pot. As for our day yesterday, nothing was planned but some good old-fashioned bro time. Insert “LOL” here.

According to my husband, who also grew up with a brother, boys pummeling each other is totally normal. In that case, my boys are off the charts in normalcy. They fight like a couple of rabid spider monkeys from sunrise to sunset, like it’s their fucking job. I’ve learned to ignore them in public, only to attract the disapproving looks from other parents. “You want to break that shit up? Yeah, I didn’t think so. Move along. Nothing to see here.” Normally they kind of self-regulate but yesterday one or the other was crying … all … day… long. My little guy is always — ahem — a tad aggressive with my older guy but he’s now learned to ball his hands into a fist and full-on coldcock his brother in the face. So I’ve got that going for me. We’ve also been working with this headstrong dude on getting himself dressed. What happens is he ends up asking for help, then yells at you for helping, then screams for ten minutes that this is the “worst shirt ever.” Then he does this again, about a thousand times.


Back to the PMS. Men, you better have heeded my warning above because shit is about to real up in here … as real as PMS. It always seems as though guys think it’s just an excuse for bad behavior. If only. I was just talking to a friend the other day about it and we both agreed we actually get excited when we finally menstruate, as I’ll deal with my period any day over PFMS – pre fucking mental syndrome. My teeth grind. My tummy bloats. And I could be arrested based on my thoughts alone. I’m convinced that, much like the Twinkie defense, one day some woman will just lose her shit and off someone and we’ll then have the “PMS defense”. Men, keep a calendar and, during those 3 or 4 days, sleep with one eye open. Or maybe both eyes. Or maybe just get a hotel room under an assumed identity.

After a day of slip ‘n’ sliding and destroying my house, room by room, the boys were bored. As we all know, this is the kiss of death. The fights were back, along with the crying, and the whining, and the incessant requests for snacks. Get your own string cheese, you little dicks! My husband could see I was one scuffle away from completely blowing a gasket, so he took the boys to the park. I was left with the decision of whether to finally get stuff done and get the house cleaned or just have a complete breakdown. If you know me, you know I chose the latter. And my breakdown was of the redneck variety. I grabbed a tub of pub cheese, a glass of white wine, and I sat on the ground while feeding myself and the pugs from a vat of processed cheese. Then I texted my husband that we were out of wine.

glass of wine

The End.

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  1. Michael Noble says:

    I “suggested” the following to a friend (at least I think she’s still a friend) about a menopausal post she went public with the other day …

    “I heard on the news, as a money-making venture, women experiencing this effect have been signing up in droves at amusement parks country-wide hocking “The Menopause” as a thrill ride.

    I hear it’s rather scary …”

    … and I realized after reading your post: The same could be done for PMS.

    Michael <——- this guy is brilliant

    You're welcome.

  2. sarcasmica says:

    ” Or maybe just get a hotel room under an assumed identity.” – you forgot to add “AND TAKE THE KIDS WITH YOU, goddamnit!”

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