This where I tell my three male readers that now would be a great time to check out the NFL lockout situation, review your stock portfolio, or call your mother. Because you ain’t gonna be a fan of this post. UNLESS. You have a wife/girlfriend/chica you wanna know better (wink, wink guvnor!), and then you might want to read on, if only to protect your life and the possibility of a little nookie down the line.
This week has been the Perfect PMS Storm here at the House of Chaos. Looking back, having survived the worst and now just a little seasick from the effort of not losing my shit, the planets of the last several days couldn’t have been more horrifically aligned unless the astronomers who gave Pluto the boot went out and rearranged the whole solar system.
It’s been bad, is what I’m trying to say here. Yesterday I could have easily ripped the head off a sweet little bunny and fed it to a zombie giraffe, set fire to Shangri-La, and drop-kicked Santa in the family jewels. I have not been pleasant to be around.
- Our house has been on the market for three months. We have had 30 showings, four second showings, and I am still here with the boys. At some point, you stop hearing “it’s not you, it’s me” and start wondering if you need to change deodorants or check your teeth.
- My husband has been living in Chicago with my parents for the last 11 weeks.
- It has been overcast or raining for most of the last two weeks. Today was the first of three days of consecutive rain, so sayeth Tom’s Weather Babe. It has been pouring since 1:00, and I had the distinct pleasure of getting caught in a 30 minute Hailstorm of Epic Proportions in my car. Also? I have seen very little sun in the last fourteen days.
- The closer I inch to menopause, the more my hormones
beat me and leave me for deadwreak havoc with my emotions.
- My sons seem to believe, since we are T-minus one week until summer break, that an early bedtime is optional, TV is limitless, and mom is a bitch for enforcing rules. Then ten minutes later they love on me, just to frak with my mind.
- Yesterday was a full moon. ‘Nuff said.
- Both boys are in the growth spurt from hell.
- I.Am.Out.Of.Red.Wine. And chocolate. And bacon.
Yes, the Bermuda Triangle of PMS, right here.
And then, today, on the miracle that is Facebook, a sign! An indication that all will be well, I will survive, I can conquer the Perfect Storm of PMS! I bring you…Peanut Butter Bacon Cookies!
Yes! Peanut butter and bacon and NO GLUTEN, all wrapped up in a sugary bacony peanut buttery bite of goodness! I shall add mini chocolate chips and call them PMS Cookies! And they shall be coupled with red wine. And I will not share. And it will be good, OH YES, it will be good.
Because, SweetbabyJesusonaraft, I’m a’gonna end up on the national news if I have another Perfect Storm of PMS day like I had yesterday.
You poor thing. Eleven weeks on your own AND showing your house AND PMS. Eat up. Those cookies look yummy.
Make the rain stoppppp….whine….whimper….
Oh my holy hell!! Can you ship a dozen or so of those cookies here when you bake them?!
Gah! We’re coming to an end here- school finishes tomorrow. A bit more baseball this weekend still tho. But Monday? We breathe. I am so tired from this spring. I can’t imagine doing it with my husband out of town. I can only send a hug your way!
Take a night off from some of the chores you do and spread a blanket on the floor with the boys, order a pizza or make root beer floats or something else goofy and not-normally-Mom. Yes, it’ll all still be waiting for you tomorrow, but tomorrow is always better.
Okay, this may sound weird…but when I was growing up (in Iowa, on a farm), my grandmother made the BEST oatmeal chocolate chip cookies…and you want to know what made them awesome? (Other than farm fresh eggs, etc…literally. I helped her gather them.)
Whenever she was done cooking, she’d save her “bacon grease” in a container on the stove. That’s what she used in her cookies.
Anyway, I hope your week gets better!