Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Pissy, Missy and Sissy

I have been crying for the past four days.  Why?  Is there something wrong with me?  Let's not answer that question.  I'm crying because of all the end-of-the-year celebrations with the kids that mean they're a year bigger.  I'm crying because I'm so happy for Kate that McLovin is home. I'm crying because I keep seeing images of the Gulf Coast and I want to throw up.  I'm crying because I'm a fat, f**cking heifer and I'm starving all the time.  And I'm a bad mother and I'm exhausted and (sob, sniffle)...

There are so many reasons why I'm a blubbering idiot.  But probably only one reason that really matters: Aunt Flo.  My friend and former boss Tony [Editor's Note: He lives in Alabama, so I've seen him twice over the past month. LOVE HIM! - Kate] has a theory about this.  He says there are three main categories of physical and emotional response to getting your period: Pissy, Missy and Sissy.  You see he has three older sisters who used to always get their periods at the same time and that's what he would call them.  And Tony is sort of a genius, so I listen to him.  He claims that I'm most likely to be a Sissy. 

He also says that I'm surprisingly smart for someone with a head the size of a softball.  Technically, he didn't say that.  He wrote it.  On my performance evaluation.  [Editor's Note: GOD! Now I love him even more! - Kate]

So let's discuss the whole concept of Pissy, Missy and Sissy.  Because as annoying our menses can be, it is a part of the mommy landscape.  In fact, it's been the Mt. Everest of my landscape for the past few days.  So as much I may get all feminist and indignant when the Cap'n blames The Crimson Wave for my periodic weirdness, there is some validity to his assertions.  Perhaps silently weeping during the Glee season finale is a little odd.  But whatever.  You bought this cow, Cap'n, so get over it.

If you're prone to Pissy - then you go from being a nice, normal, frazzled mommy to Karen Walker for a few days a month:

God, I love Karen Walker.  And yes, I understand that she is a fictional character but I love her still. 

Here's how you know if you're Pissy:
You would normally say: "I didn't really appreciate that comment."
Instead you say: "I used to think you were stupid but now I think you need to shut your fat whore mouth, Grandpa Jim."

You would normally say: "I really wish that driver would let me merge."
Instead you say: "If the ASS HAT in the BMW doesn't either speed up or let me over - Momma's gonna run his DOUCHEMOBILE off the road.  That is NOT FUNNY, kids, stop laughing this INSTANT."

You would normally say: "Honey, I wish you'd call me if you know you're going to be late."
Instead you say: "I hope you don't think you're getting any dinner because I'm not even microwaving a damn plate for an inconsiderate jackhole who doesn't have enough respect for me to pick up the murthurfurking phone.  And I am NOT overreacting.  Much."

If you're prone to Missy, then you become the Little Madam for whom everyone had better step and fetch.  Silly mommy, don't you understand anything - you always come last.  People aren't supposed to be taking care of you, you're supposed to be taking care of them.  If you're Missy then you may find that not only are you unable to do things that you normally do but you're a little put out that anyone is even expecting you to do them.

You normally would: Get up at 6am, get your children dressed, fed and off to school and offer to drive your neighbor's kids too - as you know she isn't feeling well.
Instead you: Call your neighbor and petulantly beg her to drive your kids, who are wearing only marginally clean clothes and are staring at the NutriGrain bars in their hands wondering; "Is this my breakfast"? Meanwhile you're still in pajama pants, sighing and contemplating if there's any way you can get Starbucks to deliver a nice Selfy Steam to the house.

You normally would: Take the doggy for a nice, long walk and enjoy his company and the fresh air.
Instead you: Look at your dog and say: "You'll live.  Go pee in the yard."

You normally would: Make an effort to tidy up the family room.
Instead you: Wait until the kids come home and say: "Pick up your toys and put them away or no TV for a week! I am SICK of having to clean up the same mess every dang day!  Why do I always have to do everything around here?!" Then you step on a Lego in your bare feet and do a a bizarre hopping dance while screaming and the kids just laugh at you.

If you're like me, than you're a damn sissy.  In addition to being put on earth to make sure that no one ever cries alone, you may find that almost anything will move you tears but only when the circumstances are both stupid and embarrassing.

In morning traffic, you notice that the van right in front of you is a really cool family you know from preschool, also heading to morning drop-off. 
Normally you would think: "Oooh!  If I can get her attention, we make funny faces and throw suburban mommy gang signs at each other!"
Instead you think: "Neither of us have kids enrolled in the preschool next year.  Oh no.  We won't see them anymore...  We may never see them again...  It's so sad..." And then you bawl your wittle eyes out and soggily embrace them outside the school like you've just been diagnosed with cancer of the puppy.   

You watch the television show So You Think You Can Dance and notice that all they seem to do on that show is dance, use inappropriate adjectives and cry.
Normally you would: Smirk and make snarky comments about how they are all crybabies and how all the guys, especially the straight ones, have vaginas.
Instead you: Watch a dance performance so beautiful and moving that tears run down your cheeks and as the crazy lady with the abnormally big face starts screaming and waving her arms around, you're all like: "YES! Testify, Crazy, testify!"

You're running your daughter's Girl Scout Meeting and you see all the sweet seven year olds in your troop stand up and say the Girl Scout Promise.
Normally you would think: "It's always such a pleasant surprise when they stop acting like howler monkeys and actually remember the words."
Instead you think: "I love each and every one of those little girls.  Each one is growing into a (gulp) leader and a (sniffle) good person and they represent everything that is (muffled sob) right with America."  Then you have to excuse yourself to go ugly cry in the hallway and all the parents silently say a prayer that Girl Scout leaders undergo some sort of mental health screening process.  (They don't.)

Pissy, Missy and Sissy are some annoying snitches.  I'm not going to lie to you.   Sadly for the Cap'n and our children me, I get some quality time with all three of them.  But there is a silver lining.  Maybe its only my silver lining but here it is: every few weeks I start to feel crazy.  And then Pissy, Missy and Sissy show up and I'm like: "Whew!  I'm not crazy.  Its just Tony's sisters."

And that actually makes me feel better.

xo, Lydia

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