Monday, December 11, 2006

When I have PMS

I dislike dogs even more than normal.

I throw away toys instead of put them in their proper place.

I actually consider writing to someone who knows something and get an answer to this question: Why are some fire trucks white? It’s dumb and I don’t think it should be allowed. Fire trucks are supposed to be red. If we’re going to start changing the color, then where are we going to draw the line? Slippery slope. Slippery, slippery slope. If my house is ever on fire and a yellow fire truck drives up to wet it, I will stand in my yard, wearing my pajamas, holding my children and my scrapbooks and my coffee bean grinder and demand that the yellow fire truck leave my burning house at once.

A vacuum cord can make me cry and question my salvation.

Voices behind drive through intercoms make me want to bang my head on my steering wheel. Yes, I know that the voice is coming out of a mouth that belongs to a body that has a soul that Jesus loves. I know that. I'm not saying you don't need to pray for me. But last night, I said, “I need one kid’s hamburger.” The voice said, “Do you want cheese on your hamburger?” I didn’t scream. I just banged my head to the beat of, “I know what a hamburger with cheese is called and if I wanted that, I would have said cheeseburger. I’m an unhealthy eater, not a moron.” Sometimes, the people taking your order can see you bang your head. That’s why, we really shouldn’t do this.

After watching Super Size Me, I'm on to these people. I know that they are bent on making me fat. That's what they want. They want me fat. They can't just let me order what I want. They have to ask me if I want to supersize it, or if I want some extra greasy, fried, lard to dip my fries in. So, with PMS, of course I took her practically forcing cheese on me more personal than I do normally. I wanted to say, "Stop trying to make me have a pudge! I know what you are trying to do! Stop it! I rebuke you in the name of Gold's Gym."

After last night, I made myself promise myself that I would not do drive throughs ever again when I have PMS. It's just not wise. It's too much for me. I'm not mature enough to get through it with out having to ask for forgiveness. Normally, when I go through Sonic and order a drink, and then have "the voice" say, "Do you want fries or tater tots with that" I swallow hard and then blow it off. But with PMS added into the fast food equation, I actually think to myself, "I know you've been trained to say that, but do you realize, now that you have asked me that question, I can’t possibly say I want some tater tots, or I would be admitting that I am such a doofsicle that I forgot that solids are what you get when you’re hungry…and liquids are what you get when you’re just thirsty.”

A stroller can make me so insane that it actually crosses my mind to just leave my kids inside it in the driveway until Aaron gets back home.

I don’t do that.

I have PMS, not a mental condition.

One time, when I had PMS I couldn’t get my double stroller to close, so I jammed the whole thing into our vehicle in its upright position. A double stroller, not folded…in our vehicle. Do you know how much PMS it takes to accomplish a feat of that magnitude?

As I looked in the rear view mirror at my children, looking at the weird stroller smashed into our car…some part of it touching some part of their car seat, I had to laugh.


Those three little letters can silence four little boys in a car pretty fast. Not one of them said, “Mom, why is our stroller in our car like that? Why are you sweating? Why am I having to drive all the way home looking left because if I look to my right, I will shove my face into the cup holder of our stroller.”

Instead, Anson says, “I love you, mommy.”
That’s when I laughed out loud and told them I was insane and sorry for tae kwandoing our stroller in the mall parking lot.

If I didn’t want another baby so bad, I would go beg for a hysterectomy.

I have cleaned my entire house today.

When I have PMS, I take it out on my baseboards…and on our Halloween candy.

And…I have a cold.

PMS and a cold.

This combination makes me want to find out who the actual people were who decided to change Nyquil’s formula…as in find these people’s names and addresses.


It used to be my favorite over the counter medication.

I couldn’t take it for about a decade because I was either pregnant or breastfeeding. So, as soon as the first signs of snot are spotted…these days, I reach for that wonderful red elixir that makes me go into a night-time, sniffling, sneezing coma.

Until now.

Nyquil decided that if it had to be behind the counter so high school drug makers can’t get to it, then it was going to change it’s formula so it could be in front of the counter. They changed their formula from one that worked, to one that makes me sit up every 20 minutes and say, “I can’t breathe.”

But good thing I can buy this wonderful stuff in front of the counter. That makes all the difference.
And, since I have PMS right now, instead of just saying, “I can’t breathe” I also sit up, grab a pillow and hit our bed with it in perfect beat to, “I’m suffocating and I’m going to die drinking my snot. I can’t die a snot drinker.” What would people say at my funeral? What will you tell our children?

With PMS I can’t decide what I’m more upset with…

My uterus?

Strollers because it’s obvious men have designed something women actually use the majority of the time…along with dishwashers, since we are still BENDING OVER to load our dishwasher all day. The only thing that would make doing dishes all day better would be if we got to do squats while loading the dishwasher…or lunges. Why can’t dishwashers be higher? Just a little higher? A little bit?
Someone needs to get on this. Get rich and make your momma happy.

Nyquil for not alerting me that they were going to start stinking? If I would have known that Nyquil was turning into the nighttime, sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, fever, who are we kidding, we don’t help any of that, medicine…I would have stock piled enough of the good stuff to get me through the rest of my life.

Parents of teens? Women who work their rears off can’t get higher dishwashers and yet the entire world puts perfectly wonderful drugs behind a counter so teenagers can’t mix Benadryl with battery acid so they can feel like they are on a sit-n-spin with their friends? This means if parents would just watch their kids, I could be in a responsible, proper dosage coma right now.
I could be horizontal AND still breathing.

What has this world come to?

I’ll write something nice in 5-7 days.

By that time, I'm sure I can find something to be thankful for to replace all those monthly thoughts.

Just wanted you to know that you aren't alone. All women are insane from time-to-time. Not ALL of these things happen every time I have PMS...these are just some of them that happen some times.

I have been known to call friends after one of these things have happened and say, "Pray for me today. I want to lock myself in a closet so no one has to be near me."

Praise God for friends. And praise God for breathing.

Tonight, if you can breathe lying need to thank God for it. Don't take breathing for granted.

Breathing is a gift from God...and so was Nyquil, but now it's gone.

He gives and takes away. He gives and takes away.


Hendrick Family said...

Aaron put our Christmas lights up on our house today.

I just ran back outside to the street...turned around and looked at my house.

It is so beautiful. It has cured my PMS.

I wonder if he will put them up every 28 days.

He probably would...cause he's just that great.

So...if I cook at home and have Christmas lights...maybe I'll be set from now on.

Master Kaycee said...

It brought a tear to my eye to know that if your house was on fire you would grab your coffee bean proud

Anonymous said...

I love the honesty. Not that previous posts haven't been honest, they have, but this one was kinda angry, and that's an honesty we should all be able to share from time to time.

Hendrick Family said...

Ok, I call the PMS officially over. God is good and has just this morning reminded me that even though I've been tired from last week, I'm sick and having PMS, that my troubles are MINOR. So are yours.

I just found out from my aunt that my uncle is not doing well.

Please pray for him. He has cancer. If you are reading this, please stop right now and pray for him. His name is Durward.

PMS and a cold can not even compare. Life is precious and the people living it are as well. Isn't it funny that something as silly as snot and hormones can bring out the selfishness and ungratefulness in us so quickly? The things that go on in our bodies remind us that we are so human...and so in need of our Savior.

Pray for my Uncle Durward!!


CarpioFamily said...

oh, poor heather. I totally agree with the "behind counter comment" I dislike waiting in line to get medicines that used to be on the shelf. I think i even had to do it for dimeatapp once. AAAHHH! Not only do you feel bad, but you can't breathe, which affects how you talk. Then to top it off, your bodies already all tired, and you know you can't really nap, you have little ones running around. Oh you may want to try a rinky dink gas station for the "original" nyquill. They usually don't rotate out their stock, so they may actually have some older bottles on the shelf. - Kinda gross when you thik that may apply even to their food. Hope you feel better soon. Way to Go with the lights Aaron!

Anonymous said...

Heather, I will be praying for your can please pray for my dad because he also has cancer and is not doing well.

God does give and He does take away but praise His name because He grows our faith each time.

rachel said...

I prayed for your uncle and will try to remember to continue. The Lord is good to remind us of what is really important and keep us from wallowing in self pity. Thanks for sharing both your wallowing and your conviction.

I had my first round of PMS in 19 months. It was quite the shocker as I was so surprised at how crazy I could be after being so "steady" (at least hormonally) for so long. I kept telling myself that it was no excuse for acting out, and asking for the Lord's grace to help my thoughts and actions still glorify him, even when I felt like I was going nuts. If he can calm stormy seas, he can calm my emotions.

Anonymous said...

OK- isn't that my double stroller you are talking about. I don't even want to know what it is going to look life when you return it.

Unless you have already burned it in a PMS rage!

Hendrick Family said...

No! That was the one we ended up selling at the garage sale...before I got your good one. Don't worry!! Yours is still fine!

Anonymous said...

At first, I was kinda considering not coming over to your house tonight... luckily I read your comments page.

I'm not afraid anymore!

However, I really contemplated whether or not it would be appropriate for a guy to comment on this post. But, what the heck...

brsquared said...

I wonder if Eve experienced PMS before the fall? I bet she didn', i wonder what that was like...if Adam only knew the change that would come. I think the passage in Ephesians that commands men to love their wives and sacrifice for them specifically relates to PMS...I mean, I am probably wrong, but poor Brandon, I am sure he thinks I am going insane at least monthly. I am so glad God gives him grace to deal with my moodiness. God really is gracious to Christmas lights and chocolate.

BHG & Co. said...

Are you sure you sold it at a garage sale... because I think our double stroller is from you...

but I have never had a problem with it... at least not wanting to throw it in front of a bus kind of trouble. But since I am a man, it was designed by men and I never suffer from PMS (at least not first hand), it may be the same stroller.


Hendrick Family said...

No...YOU have my good one!!

I got that crappy one, then sold it in a garage sale, then got a good one, then gave the good one to Heather, then got Ashley's. How's that for Acts chapter 2?

Anonymous said...


You do make a father proud! I think you should send your writing to Readers Digest. It is fantastic.

Love you bunches

Dad.... (finally getting a little time to dig into this blogging thingy and catch up on you all)