The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

maybe there's something to that alarm

Last night, while lying in bed chatting, I mentioned to M. that someone had forward me a link to a site for men that had some sort of stupid name like 'PMS Detector', or something like that, which a guy could use to record his girlfriend/wife's menstrual cycle dates and be notified when it was expected that her PMS had begun. He thought it was hilarious, bordering on genius, and I hissed that I was not amused. Why is it that men think every mean or acidic word or action from their female partner is always to do with her lack of control over her hormones? Sometimes, we're mean because you all are stupid, I'd said. He grinned and nodded his head, knowing that my own cycle is about to begin any second. I huffed and turned on my side facing away from him. I asked him to turn out the light.

So, this morning, I woke up at the sound of the alarm and fumbled my way to the wee one's door to wake her for school. I decided against taking a shower straight away because I am supposed to go out tonight and I know I'll want fresh and bouncy hair for that, so I pulled my hair up, washed my face, brushed my teeth and did the usual war paint and hastily pulled together outfit thing before finding myself ready to go an entire half hour early. The wee one, though, was moving at a glacial pace, complaining of feeling tired, requesting brown sugar on her Cornflakes before frantically telling me that she'd changed her mind after I had gone and got the bag and was ripping into it. She said she had to go pee, and got lost in the bathroom for ten minutes. I could feel my impatience building, so I told her to finish up and get moving, which got me 'but mom! I'm going as fast as I can!'. That is some kind of reluctant bladder you have there, missy.

Somehow, despite having a dramatic lead on the morning, she ended up being about seven minutes late for our regular departure time. This is when I begin to really lose it, jamming her hat over her head, harping at her for how she was dressing (my teacher says to put on my hat first, then my mittens!), muttering how I won't be going along next time if she continues to be 'belligerent' (yes, she's four, and I told her to stop being belligerent, like she had any idea what I was talking about), and oddly enough, I meant it. I looked up at M. who was standing beside her and saw that he was staring at me, wide-eyed. What are you looking at?, I roared, and he smiled lightly and said 'nothing'. I guess I have to drive since the carseat is in my car?!, I said loudly, and he said 'yes, but I started the car for you to warm it up'. I emitted a 'thanks' and I nudged the little person toward the front door. To her credit, she was silent and did not attempt to goad me. He loaded her in and I got into the driver's seat, tapping my mitted fingers on the steering wheel. I sighed at the five foot snowbanks on either side of the road which make it hard to see who is coming or going, I clicked my tongue at the blazing sun which was rudely beaming down on me in my cloudy state. M. got in, still wearing that weak smile and asked jokingly 'what's up with you today?'.

I have to say I can't really put my finger on it, but I refuse to acknowledge that it might be old, run of the mill, PMS. It's too simple, I think. I told him I just don't like being late, that there's no reason for it, and my tone inferred that maybe he could have helped a little more. He decided to leave it alone. We got to the school which overrun with other late midgets, each of whom had some sort of issue removing their boots or snowpants, each one calling out helplessly 'Katriona's mom! I can't get my boots off!'. Sigh. I am not without a heart though, and most of them are ridiculously cute, so I put on my sweet and compassionate voice while helping them emerge from layer upon layer of down and fleece.

I ran into A.M, the woman I have been in contact with regarding the computer course, and I had to fake my way through that too. Oh, she's lovely and kind, but I wasn't in the mood for small talk. I told her that I am going to register for the course today and she quickly told me where I needed to go in the school to do so, and I thanked her before rushing out the door. M. followed me, silent, and he got into the passenger seat with that insipid smile of his. I could feel my eyes watering, partly from the extreme cold this morning (-10 degrees), partly from the sun rays, and mostly because I feel like dissolving into a puddle of tears.

I drove home distractedly, obeying every stop sign, but not really paying attention to much else. When we go to the house, I pulled into the driveway which is still thick with snow at the end, which has now become like granite thanks to the cold, and I raced in sideways, before gaining control, straightening out and coming to an abrupt stop. I muttered something about the driveway not being cleared properly before opening the door, getting out and slamming it behind me. All through this, M. has been watching me with caution, and smiling politely.

I am literally covered in anger.

I grabbed a doughnut (no, I shouldn't have, but when I am like this I need to indulge), and headed up to my room without a word. I know he fears me right now. He's told me that I'm scary when I'm like this, and I always laugh when he says it, but he insists that I am frightening in this state. I don't really understand that, though I admit one probably wouldn't want to offend me at the moment, but at the same time, my mind is aware of my bad humour, so it's not like I'm going to grab an axe, crack the bathroom door down the middle and yell out 'Here's Johnny!'. I might be snappish, mildly hysterical and eat my weight in chocolate, but I'm not dangerous.

This is the sort of mood which makes me confrontational and loud. I have had some fairly intense conversations with him courtesy of this strange, free-floating impatience, and I am grateful in a way that I have. When I am peaceful, I tend to hover instead of assert. Today, if he says something I don't want to hear, he'll know it. I am tired, I want to shower but won't until after I've registered at the school, and I want a nap. I have to meet with all my former co-workers tonight at a pub they've chosen, and I am already feeling hesitant about going. Oh, I'll go, because I committed to it and I genuinely like everyone who will be there, but I'm full of the rage at the moment, and when I am, nothing pleases me. I'm angry that he bought a bottle of port yesterday, as well as bottle of whiskey when I really wanted a dry, red wine. The port was very sweet, would have gone better with cheese or nuts and since we have neither, due to my stupid gall bladder, I found it a little overpowering. I wanted to feel sleepy, not sick. Not to mention, he was going on and on about exercise balls, how C. thinks we should have them so as to get a little exercise in our regime and all I could think of was how I spent my money on groceries, that I always spend my money on things for the family and that while he is willing to do the same, he doesn't think to do a 'big shopping', the kind that lasts for a week or more, always taking the stupid route of going every second day, buying things which I wouldn't call staples. This is probably unfair, but I don't suppose that matters to me much.

I was feeling all of this and then I read today's prompt. Obviously, this only stoked the fire. Relationships from the observers perspective. I love it, I hate it and I think it was a really honest/interesting entry. That said, I am too muddled in thought to write a coherent response, so I decided to vent about the confusion and ire in my head right now. I'll get around to the other, later.

I have an eyelash in my eye. Could this day suck any harder?