So I thought this month I had somehow side-stepped PMS.
I did get my period – stop cringing, it’s a normal physiological function – but the week preceeding it, I was NOT a raging lunatic.
On some months, I have been known to peg my 14 year old smart-mouthed teenager in the head with a dinner roll.
I have dragged my daughter up and down the hallway by her chignon when she complained that it was lopsided.
And I have thrown my husband and his pillow out of our bedroom for annoying remarks at bedtime, such as “Wanna have sex?”
This month however, I was given a reprieve.
This month, I had somehow, gratefully escaped the lunacy and antics associated with the surge of hormones that usually reek havoc with my emotions.
…or so I thought…
I say this because, although my seven year old wasn’t forced to duck for cover this month, in the last few days, I have been on a rollercoaster of sadness and joy.
A couple of days ago, I was at the doctor’s office with my 13 year old. He’s been sick a lot lately, so he went to have a blood test and urinalysis done.
While he’s in the bathroom squeezing out his urine sample, I’m outside the door wringing my hands with worry.
This is not like me. I don’t get worked up. I know better than to start speculating about anything.
Yet, there I am creating worse-case scenarios in my head, snivelling into a tissue, patting the stray tears from my cheeks.
I am sad. So very very sad.
Then my son comes out of the washroom.
He’s got this odd look on his face, a cross between confusion and shame.
He looks at me.
He looks at the other patients in the waiting room.
Then out loud, facing the crowd, he says, “I just peed into a cup.”
One of the patients calls back, “Thanks for sharing.”
From the depth of my gut, a rumble of laughter erupts.
As we’re walking out of the doctor’s office, I’m still wiping tears, but these are from laughter.
Weird, uncontrollable laughter.
I laughed for 20 consecutive minutes.
I had to pull off the side of the road to laugh some more.
Now I am happy. So very very happy.
I come home. It’s supper time. I’m not in the mood to cook.
I am sad.
Wayne comes home and surprises us with fried chicken and french fries from KFC.
I am happy.
But Wayne is cheap.
He bought the meal deal for four people.
There are six people in my family.
So upon placing the food on the table, he announces, “There’s two pieces of chicken for everybody.”
We all kind of look at each other.
Two pieces of chicken? And a few french fries?
It’s KFC. It’s finger-lickin’ good.
Who eats only two pieces of chicken and 8 french fries at Kentucky Fried Chicken?
So, now, we are all sad.
After supper, I sit down to watch Glee with the kids. We rented the first season on DVD.
This makes me extremely happy.
Now I’m laughing at everything in the damn show.
During one scene, there’s a pamphlet in the background that says, “Wow, there’s a hair down there!”
image from http://scorpiove.wordpress.com/2010/10/19/other_handy_pamphlets/
In my state of inexplanable euphoria, as I’m in the bathroom, I yell out to Wyatt, “Is that what you said the first time you saw a hair down there? Wow, there’s a hair down there!”
I’m laughing, and having a great time because I’m so funny, and listen to me cracking all jokes at the expense of my pubescent son.
But as I’m laughing, I lean over to flush the toilet.
My cell phone falls out of my pocket, and before it can get flushed away, I have to plunge my hand into the bowl to retrieve it.
Ok. That. Not funny.
So I’m sort of sad.
But I come back to watch some more of Glee.
During one scene, one of the characters, who is the wood shop teacher, has sawed off both his thumbs.
So buddy is sitting there with his hands all bandaged up, and Terran, the 7 year old says, “It’d be hard to play hockey without any thumbs.”
….so yes, I’m laughing again, because come on, that’s funny!
Only a little Canadian kid would relate thumblessness to hockey, or rather lack thereof.