For almost a year, I've been able to avoid "that" time...of the month. But now it's back. And I hate it. And it's not even "that" part...it's the moodiness that I'm talking about. And it's not fair. I honestly firmly without a doubt believe that all women should have a week off each month to deal with it and recuperate. Men don't understand. I don't want to hear how men are the ones that have to "deal" with it because you have to "deal" with us going through it. You have no idea how much energy we exert just to keep ourselves from ripping your limbs off on a daily basis. I know that God gave us "that" time because we are the only ones strong enough to handle it. Men would crumble upon themselves.
WOW. I sound super moody, huh. RAAAAARGGGHHHH!
Poor David...he's so great about the whole thing. Totally patient and sweet and kind and caring. And pretty cool about the fact that I lugged his cell phone at his head when the stupid thing went off at 5 in the morning. And really amazing about the fact that I kicked him in the face when he set his pair of socks down on top of the bed near my feet and woke me up...again. He's so great. I couldn't ask for a more amazing husband.
Which is why I feel bad about the fact that this happens to him every night when he comes home...
And it's not HIM. He just happens to be the only adult I see during the day, so he gets the brunt of my emotional wreckedness.
The mailman also gets a little bit of it.
Sometimes I feel like the only person who understands me is Blue the Cat.