Missing two days of the month...

I'm not that gal who uses PMS as a convenient excuse for bad behaviour.  I'm that gal who despairs that the cliches that abound regarding PMS and MS and PostMS are all pretty much accurate.  I get my period once every 23 days - Thank God for Vitex from the Health food shoppe - otherwise I'd be getting it every 2 weeks.

I'm pretty much out for the count for a good 36-48 hours when Auntie Flow comes to visit.  But what utterly galls me?  I didn't begin my period, at the age of 11, having difficulties.  I was crampless for years.  I started to get cramps when I was around 28 years of age, so basically 17 YEARS after my period began I started feeling icky about it.  Until then, it was a titch messy, but nothing to really complain about.  I would recognize PMS every now and again -  if I was weepy for no reason, or I was reaching for the frying pan to whack someone over the head - but it was completely manageable.

Since having kids - it's became bad.  So bad that I'm out of my head stoned on medication for the first two days bad.  The urban myth is that after you have kids, you get all regular and it's less painful and tidy... and it's all BULLSHIT!  I napped for three hours today - my anti-inflammatory and the 2 Extra-Strength Tylenol that I took to combat the pain most probably shouldn't be taken together and I was in a near-coma state.  Last night, in bed, David read to me as I quietly sobbed holding the heating pad against my tummy, praying desperately for the pills to kick in.  What the POOH!?! Is this a by-product of my peri-freaking-menopause??

I recently read this article in Maclean's that talked about how there isn't enough adequate medical testing done on women.  Like most of the sample groups for breast cancer used to be done on dudes kind of medical testing.  What the?!?  I talk with my girlfriends who have had kids and not one of them has a zip-zop, quick, no muss, no fuss period.  They have the 'having to use three tampons in your hooha at the same time' periods. 

WARNING GRAPHIC INFORMATION FOLLOWS:  

I started using the Diva Cup instead of tampons a couple of years ago.  Yessiree - I'm folding and inserting a reusable blood receptacle.  Okay, brief tangent!  When one is using the Diva Cup at home, it is very easy to deal with the emptying and cleaning of it.  You empty it into the toilet, you reach over to the sink and you rinse it out, you re-insert.  When one is in a public washroom, you really can't get to the sink to do the rinsing part.  Therefore you have to empty it and then re-insert it without the rinsing.  Thing is?  Blood makes the Diva Cup somewhat slippery.  There have been occasions while in a public washroom, where I was concerned that while trying to fold the sucker and reinsert it, it might fly out of my hands and bink-bonk around the stall - careening off the walls not unlike a ball in a pinball machine, leaving some sort of Jackson Pollack crime scene in the stall.

The great thing about the Diva Cup is that  I can now accurately measure how much blood I am losing.  It is sometimes 120 - 180 ml.  According to the menstrual experts, the 'average' blood flow during your period is supposed to be between 30-45 ml.  And I want to ask - WHO are they talking to??  Because, when I talk to my friends, they seem to be bleeding just as much as I am. Where does this so-called average come from?  From young adolescents who aren't regular yet?  I lose so much blood, David brings me random glasses of water to rehydrate me during those first two days and watches me with the same look that is usually reserved for my bad angina.  Like he's waiting for me to pass out at any second.

I hate acting the frail little flower of a woman, because that just isn't me.  I ain't that girl.  And yet for the first two days during my period, I am at the mercy of my hormones.  I am indeed that weepy, achy, overly-medicated woman who wanders around in her jammies and bathrobe with a hot water bottle sobbing. 

Thank God it's only 2 of every 23 days!  On the third day of my period, I return.  The real me.  The me who thinks that writing 5 pages is completely doable.  The me who has enough energy to take the vacuum up to the 3rd floor.  The me who isn't stoned.  I once again become a participating member of the family!  I write lucidly!  I  take chicken out of the freezer the night before!  I can and will strip a piece of furniture... As God is my witness the next 21 days will be productive!!!

Eggshells under their feet...

Yesterday morning I awoke in the midst of another horrific hot flash.  Stumbling and growling all the way down the stairs - David and Rissa's eyes got really big as I stomped my way into the kitchen.  Fanning my face with my hands and flapping my arms to get air into my armpits.

"I'm not even going to ask," I say.

"If it's hot in here?" David replies.

"Yes, I'm not asking, because..."

"It's not hot," Rissa cheerfully pipes up.  "It's just you."

"Awesome!  That is freaking awesome!!!"  I open the freezer and grab a velcro ice pack and strap it around my neck.

"That's an interesting look," says David, ignoring the laser beams coming out of my eyes.  He then whispers, "Are you going for an auto-erotic asphyxiation type look?"  I growl at him.

"I am only  44 years old," I gripe, as I'm making my coffee.  "44 years old!!!"  My Mom had hot flashes until she was 60!!!  You could have to live with THIS (I point violently to myself, drawing a wide erratic circle around my head) for another SIXTEEN years!!!"  I grab the soy milk and my hazelnut flavouring.  The mug is warm.  "THIS MUG IS TOO WARM TO HOLD!!!"

Rissa then giggles, which lets me know that David must have done something behind my back.  "WHAT???  What did he do?  Did he just make a 'she's crazy' gesture?!?"

"Nope, not at all.  Un-unh.  Nope."  Both of them looking all sweet and innocent.  David has the decency to look chagrined before admitting "I just raised my eyebrows like this."  He demonstrates.  It's the 'Oh boy, fasten your seatbelts' look.  I do my best not to bludgeon him.

"How about I make you an iced capp?  Would that help?"  He moves swiftly out of my arm's reach.

"Maybe," I pout.  Then I realize what he's offering.  "Yes please.  (sigh)  You don't understand David.  I can't do this to you guys for another 16 years.  You'll lose your minds.  You can't be walking on eggshells all that time.  That's not fair to you!  I am considering hormone replacement.  This is making me consider HRT!!!  It's not supposed cause as much cancer now, but I can't be on hormone replacement for SIXTEEN years!  That's just asking for bad shit to happen to my body!!!  I have enough bad shit happening to my body already!!"

It was at that point that Rissa led me to the kitchen table, sat me down and patted me on my arm in a gesture of placation.  Then David put the homemade iced capp into my hand.  It was cool and delicious and took my mind off the volcano in my torso.

What if I do really stupid crap before I actually make it to Menopause?  This is only PERI-Meonopause - and already I'm pretty much out of my mind.  Can I make it through another 16 years?  Will I be able to use it as an excuse in court?  Like, for when I murder someone when they look at me funny?  There are good things though.  Menopause is custom made for one-woman shows.  I'm going to have SO MUCH material!    The commiseration factor with my audience is going to be legendary!

Lead Vase of Death...

Perfect Bludgeoning Instrument

So he found it.  He found the note that said "crystal vase for bludgeoning."  He gave me an odd look.  It made perfect sense when I wrote it down.  I was putting away the vase after having washed the residue from Rissa's dance recital flowers from its sides.  This vase had some great heft.  Like the  "you have to use two hands to carry the sucker"  heft.  It immediately struck me (HAH!) that this vase was made for bludgeoning.  (Add your own Nancy Sinatra in the background here.)

The only problem is, that it sits in our butler's pantry and would be a hard go-to item if, say, an intruder came into your home and you were looking for something with which to whack them.  You'd have to run to the small butler's pantry hall, (way too small a space to be trapped with an intruder), you'd have to open the cupboard, reach to the back of the top shelf for it.


Same thing with kitchen knives.  We don't keep ours out in the open with a knife block - they're in a drawer - all the way back in the kitchen.  Sure, lots of space around you, but it's a straight run from the living/family rooms - the intruder might well catch you before you get to the knives.

That's why most people go for the fireplace pokers.

Old Standby

You don't have to open a cupboard - you're in the living room which is a more open space.  Lots of room to swing a weapon.  Much better all-around choice, but frankly, without the panache of a beautiful crystal vase.

Plus?  Bludgeoning gives you a certain 80s nighttime soap grandness to the event.  Ideally, you'd want to run upstairs and throw on a Nolan Miller gown, but expediency is probably best in a home-invasion situation.