My Pre-Menopausal Timeout

Last week, I went through my first foray into pre-menopause.  Okay guys, if you want to look away, I’m with you.  If I could look away, I would too.  We all hit the age of no return and it seems that I’ve hit that age.  With a vengeance.  My emotional state has been anything but stable.  By the time Saturday night hit, I was just coming out of what I can only refer to as my HOLY-FUCK-WHAT-THE-HELL-IS-WRONG-WITH-THE-WORLD time.  It was like I became possessed. I couldn’t understand why everybody around me was so totally insane!  You want to borrow my car??!!  Why is there bird shit on my car?!!  What do you mean you can’t control the birds?!  Where’s the guy with the bb gun!  Let’s get him to shoot the birds who shit on ma car!! Yeah.

 AND, that was just ONE day.  I was Grumpy Cat, but without the fur.  I was sure there would be a knock on my door any minute and I would open it to find a priest with incense and Holy Water summoned to give me an exorcism.  Yes, it was that bad.

Kinda what I felt like that week...ugh.

Kinda what I felt like that week…ugh.

I’m a pretty even-keel kinda girl.  I can go with the flow and am pretty affable and easy going most of the time.  Last week, I was not that girl.  I moped, sulked and generally went through a “woe is me” kinda week.  Everybody has those days, BUT A WHOLE WEEK??!!  Come on…ugh.  If somebody asked me to do something for them they got a look…a stare down.  A ‘WHAT ARE YOU ASKING OF ME YOU LITTLE PLEEB?  CAN’T YOU SEE I’M HAVING A PISSY DAY AND WOULD RATHER SUCK LINT FROM THE DRYER HOSE THAN DO ANYTHING FOR ANYBODY RIGHT NOW??!!’ look.  Sometimes, I would reply a tad sarcastically.  I remember saying at one point “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOUR LEGS?  YOU GET HIT BY A CAR AND NOT TELL ME OR SOMETHING? CAN’T YOU GET IT?”  Yeah.  MOM OF THE YEAR is surely to be on a coffee mug destined to be thrown at my head any day now.  The fact that my family hasn’t moved out yet, is a testament to how much they love me…or how much they can’t do for themselves and know how fucking good they have it and need to stay because, afterall, who would MAKE SUPPER FOR THEM?!  See?  *breathe*

I began researching pre-menopausal symptoms and I’m pretty sure my face will be right next to the title of ‘MOOD SWINGS FROM HELL’.  I’m now the poster child for uncontrollable ups and raging-irate-crazy-mom downs.  My kids are so proud.  I’m sure they’re out telling all their friends how totally awesome I am. If anybody in my family survives this whole ride into craptastic-raging-

hormonal-shit-crappy-poop (now the official title.  Learn it. Use it. Embrace it) it’ll be because they don’t wish to starve and they are enjoying the witty banter that will surely ensue when something awesome happens to set me off like the dog chewing up a new piece of furniture.  Then they would be forced to watch in horror as I fling her out the back door to eat grass and yell “CHEW ON THAT FOR A WHILE!”   and then bawl because I was mean to the puppy and get all blubbery and mopy for the rest of the day.  Yes, that’s how it goes.  The dog will look at the rest of the fam like “That bitch be crazy, yo”  (because we all know that Mags talks like she is from the ‘hood) and the kids will nod sadly in her direction.  It’ll be like a scene from Les Mis From The ‘Hood.  This is working out to be epic, peeps.

After a weekend of wine and a lot (is that right, Archon? Not allot, or alot but, a lot? Yeah. I READ!!) of sleep, I think I’m on track to becoming back to semi-normal.    Or at least not ready to pitch puppies out a window and yell at babies for sleeping too loudly.  My kids on the other hand, may want to continue to tread lightly….

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Cleaning The House 50’s Style

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Inspired by H’s FB post asking for a good tip for a window cleaning agent.  I’m more worried about WHO will clean my windows as opposed to WHAT will clean them. 

Since I’m not the let’s-spend-the-entire-weekend-cleaning-the-house-top-to-bottom type, I’ve decided to do a little time traveling and ask an expert on how to keep a house super dee duper clean and tidy, without spending a wad full of ma precious wine-drinking time doing it. So meet Mave, the 50’s Housewife Domestic Goddess Trainer Extraordinaire. She has graciously agreed to come into the future with me and give me cleaning tips for the new-aged housewife that are designed to save me time and money. 

Session 1, the kitchen.  

 

 50’s Housewife Mave: Trying to get the grime off the oven? 

Me: Why? 

50’s Housewife Mave:  Because you can’t have people looking into your oven and seeing dirt. It’s disgusting and not very domestic-goddesslike.

Me: Shut-up, really?!  Dammit.  I don’t think anybody wants or needs to look into my oven.  Seriously, who wants to see the grime in there?

50’s Housewife Mave:  That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you.  Anyway, you can clean the grime with a little elbow grease and spray oven cleaner.  Make sure you use your rubber gl-  HEY!

Me:  Okay, first off I have a self-cleaning oven so no spray oven cleaner crap.  Second, WHO HAS TIME FOR THAT SHIT?!

50’s Housewife Mave:  You have a WHAT?!  That thing cleans itself??!!  Well!  Okay.  AND, remember.  A lady never swears.  That’s for –

Me: So are we cleaning or giving me etiquette lessons?  Just so I’m clear…

Mave: NO need to be so rude.  Jeesh, are the women in this era so rude and crass?  Because…

Me: Ugh…I’m sorry, okay?  I’ll try to be more…demure.  How’s that?

50’s Housewife Mave:  Thank you.  AND why are you not wearing a dress? A woman always must look her best.  You never know when your husband is going to bring the boss home for dinner!  You should try to look your best at all times.  Can you please do something with your hair?

Me: Not so fast, June!  ‘Hubby’ is NOT going to EVER bring his boss home for dinner since technically he does not HAVE a boss.  It’s complicated, okay?  AND…A DRESS??!!  Seriously??  These yoga pants ARE dressy..at least for cleaning!  AND if Bestie was here, she would so totally agree with you but this is a discussion for another day.  Can we get back to the cleaning thing, please and discuss my grooming habits another time? Like when you’re no longer here….

50’s Housewife Mave: Hmph!  Who’s June?

Me:  Cleaver…you know, Leave it to Beaver.

50’s Housewife Mave: OH!  I love her! 

Me: Figures.  Now…the kitchen?

50’s Housewife Mave: Yes. Right. Well, since the oven takes care of itself magically, that leaves…WINDOWS.

Me: Really?  You get ‘windows’??  I would NEVER get windows. Floors maybe, even cupboards or the refrigerator, but NEVER windows.

50’s Housewife Mave:  We could do floors or that big thing you call a refrigerator if you want to..

Me:  NO!  No, this is uh, your show so let’s get to it.

50’s Housewife Mave:    Okay, so let’s get to those windows. Since the oven can clean itself don’t tell me those windows have automatic robot arms and spray and clean by themselves.

Me: No, unfortunately, those we have to do ourselves.  

50’s Housewife (looking a little too pleased with herself if you ask me): GREAT! Something I can sink my teeth into!  Now, take a bucket-

Me: A BUCKET?!   You mean the plastic one that I use to catch the kids vomit when they’re sick??!! Ewwww….I thought we were cleaning here.

50’s Housewife Mave: Uh, well preferably you have one that is for just cleaning…

Me: *silent confused look*

50’s Housewife Mave:  Ok.  Forget the bucket we’ll just use the sink!  So, grab some vinegar and mix in some water and a squeeze of a lemon and you have the perfect mixture to get those windows and all your glass sparkling!

Me: Man, you are just way too into this.  *sigh* Okay, great. Now the dog will be licking all the glass all the time.  Anything for dog-spit?

50’s Housewife Mave:  Animals should be placed outdoors in their doghouses.  Why is that, that, thing in here?!  No wonder your floors are a full of paw prints!  *takes a broom and starts to shoo Mags the Wonder Dog outside who thinks Mave is playing with her and begins to bite the broom.  A struggle ensues with Mags barking and chasing Mave around the kitchen like a kid chasing the ice-cream truck.*  GET THIS DOG AWAY FROM ME!!! 

Me:  HAHAHAHAHA…that’s the funniest fucking thing I’ve seen all day

50’s Housewife Mave:  GET HIM OFF ME!!

Me:  Uh, he is a her and if you stop running, she’ll stop chasing.  Besides…you’re messing up your hair and your dress is getting all askew. 

50’s Housewife Mave: *stops and brushes her hair out of her eyes and smoothes her dress.  Mags pants and waits for another game of chase the lady with the broom* Why are you laughing?  IT’S NOT FUNNY! 

Me:  Yes it is! Aww..poor Mave. You look stressed.  *gets the wine and pops it open and pours two glasses*  Here, drink this.

50’s Housewife Mave:  Wine in the afternoon?!  A lady never drinks before dinner!

Me:  Right now, Mave we aren’t ladies.  Just take a sip and breathe.

50’s Housewife Mave:  *eyes the glasses suspiciously*  Okay, maybe just a little sip.

Me:  Yeah.  How’s that?

50’s Housewife Mave:  *drains her glass* Fuck the windows, let’s have more wine!

Me: *pours another glass*  Mave, I like you. 

We clink glasses and finish off the bottle…a little dog spit never hurt anybody.