Never again will I complain about loading the kids into the van.

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To my dear husband

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I am writing to you in an effort to help you to understand the things that bother me the most when I am pms’ing.  I know that you know what I am talking about, but just to make it clear, pms is the syndrome that YOU have to deal with before I get my period, prior to me inconveniencing YOU for about a week or so afterwards.

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PMS is short for pre-menstrual syndrome, which basically means that my hormones are changing and I am feeling CRANKY as hell. I will be hating myself because of the giant, red pimple that will be throbbing on the end of my nose and the fact that my stomach is bloated like I am about 8 months pregnant with twins.

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It is easy to become frustrated, and annoyed when you are pms’ing.  It is not a fun time.

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It is my hope that sharing the following information with you will enable us to have a more tolerable ‘pms week’.    The following is a list of factors that can easily annoy me once I have entered this very emotional stage of my cycle and should therefore be avoided:

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1.     You, asking if that is a zit on the end of my nose, or if I am changing my name to Rudolph.  (Not funny).
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2.     You, commenting that pms is psychological, and just a good excuse to be nasty. (Even with nervous laughter, that is not funny).

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3.     You, timidly asking if my period is coming.

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4.     You, not helping with the kids/dinner/cleanup.
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5.     You, helping with the kids/dinner/cleanup.

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6.     Your snoring.
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7.     Your groping.
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8.     Your comments that you know how you can cure my headache.
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9.     You, asking if your laundry is done (even if you do need clean underwear to wear to work the next day.)
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10.    You, trying to carry on a conversation with me.
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11.    You, not trying to carry on a conversation with me.

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Okay, upon review of my list, I see some definite patterns here.  Basically, you are damned if you do and damned if you don’t.  It would be best if you just kept a safe distance away from me for about 7-10 days each month, only coming close if I beckon to you with a smile and a barbequed steak.

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Thanks honey.

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Love, me xoxo

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PS:  Your sleeping bag is on the couch.

Growing up, my mom and I would watch Little House on the Prairie together every week.  We loved that show, even though we cried through virtually every single episode.

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Some years ago, hubby bought me three movies, one being the original, premiere movie.  For Christmas this year, he surprised me with theatre tickets for this Saturday to see the ‘little house on the prairie’ play in Toronto.  I think this may be my most favourite gift EVER, and I am ridiculously excited about going to see it.  Melissa Gilbert, who played Laura as a child for the television series will be in the theatre version playing ‘ma’.  I cannot wait!

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In preparation for our big date, I dragged out the tapes and put the first one on to watch with the kids.  I want them to love it as much as I do!   They did enjoy it, but they asked so many questions throughout it that it just about drove me crazy-why are they dressed like that, why does he have a gun, why are they afraid of the indians?

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As for me, well, in between telling the kids to zip it so we could listen to the movie, I was blubbering like a fool.  Why, Why, Why, do I still cry when the dog goes missing during the river crossing-even though I KNOW that he didn’t die?!  My nose is still clogged from the emotional reunion when Jack came tiredly out of the woods and pa clutched him tenderly to his big, hard, farmer chest…sniffffff…..Seriously though, there has never been another television character like Michael Landon’s Charles Ingalls, has there?

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It’s funny how perspectives change as you get older though.  As a little girl, I loved him in a daughterly kind of way….Now that I’m 40, well, I definitely look at him differently….he really wore those farmer clothes well, if you know what I mean?

For some strange reason my children seem to think that they live in a democracy.

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No matter how hard I try, they still think that they should share their opinions and that their opinions matter.  How can I teach them that they live in a dictatorship?  They feel free to offer their opinions on what we should have for dinner, where we should go, what movies we should watch, and what they should wear.

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I keep telling them I don’t care if they don’t want to go to bed, wear a coat or take a bath but they keep telling me how they feel about virtually everything in our lives.  I tell them that it doesn’t matter what they think, that they need to do what I say because I am the mom, and I said so!

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I can’t help but feel I have failed in my role as dictator of my small country.  My subjects, though loyal, regularly stage vocal demonstrations and come perilously close to revolution.  If I can’t get my 11 year old to wear what I want her to wear, fine, but shouldn’t my 5 year old wear what I suggest?  Where is my influence?

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When I was a kid, being told ‘maybe’ was as crushing as being told ‘no’.

When I say ‘maybe’, my kids cheer.  I guess they’ve caught on to my strategy of crushing their hopes quickly when I mean ‘no’.  ‘Maybe’ gives them hope.

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Hmmm…If being a dictator means crushing their spirits and taking away all of their hope, I may have to rethink my position as dictator of fiveallmine land.  It’s not as fun as Stalin or Mao made it look anyway, and Castro didn’t seem to have much luck with it either……….

Dani has won the hardcover book by Stephen Done!  Cogratulations!

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Thanks to all who entered!