Why is it that us women have to get all the good stuff? First, we go through puberty where our emotions are a roller coaster on a good day. We are walking in school when all of a sudden we realize something is amiss. We run in and look down and think, "Oh no! Did I poop myself?" Nope. No one tells you that the first period is a dark dark brown. That should have been in the book.... How to survive being a woman.
Then, the boobs come in. You have the added bonus of learning how to wear a bra. That first bra, what is that made out of? Army blankets. No thank you. The itchiness and the constant pulling it down.... why? As my daughter would say, "Why, Jesus, Whyyyyyyyy".
We enter adulthood. We think we have all this woman stuff down. Then we decide to start a family. We get pregnant and we are so excited. That is, until you are sitting in your work kitchen, waiting for the microwave and someone decides that they want to heat up left over Chinese. As the green cloud of stink wafts to you, you realize you are going to vomit. NOW! You run to the bathroom and let it loose. Who needs lunch anyway? Don't get me started on the smell of Popeyes Chicken. My poor husband, that was his favorite. For my entire pregnancy that was NOT allowed in my presence.
The morning arrives when your water breaks. You gather all of your things and go to the hospital. As you are waiting to check in the first contraction hits. This is no Braxton Hicks, my friend. Your entire middle seizes up and you realize, what in the actual fuck was I thinking? The labor all but kicks your ass and then the baby arrives. Of course, mine was a bit different so little Noah was in the NICU.
The day I realized I didn't know what the hell I got into was the day in the NICU when Noah decided to shit all over his crib in the middle of me changing a diaper. I looked at the nurse with fear in my eyes and she said, "What? He's your baby. You are going to have to learn sometime." I wanted to weep.
That first cut knee when your little one comes screaming for you. Your husband looks at you like, "What? I can't even handle your crying. You betta deal with this woman." I will say, for the most part, this is something I am really good at. I'm good at consoling. Hallelujah!!!! (Think of the angels singing that.....)
Now.... That brings me to now. Remember, we are talking about the joys of having a vagina. THEN.... one night, you wake up in a pool of sweat, freezing. Figure that one out..... It starts out slow. There are moments in a department store when you start frantically stripping down because they keep the heat so damn high. WHY? Especially during Christmas time. Those places are packed. We are all generating enough heat. If you are cold, just come over and warm your hands over my scorching body. You will warm up in a flash.
Let's not forget the hormones. If you thought teenage angst was a lot, well find yourself a middle aged woman going through menopause. That will give you a run for your money. Fun fact, God gave me a fourteen year old daughter that is going through her teenage change at the EXACT time that I am going through my mid-life one. You can't make that up. My poor husband and son probably want to rent an apartment until we are through this stage of our lives.
What else do we have to look forward to? Oh, you know.... the mid-life forty that settle right on your middle. You are walking around, setting sodas on your stomach wondering how the hell you got to this point in your life. You want to rage on everyone. It's the little things. The stupid ass who leaves their cart in the middle of the isle to ponder which taco seasoning to get. MOVE!!!! The line in Costco to get free samples. MOOVE!!!! The person getting gas who seems to want to emulate the sloth in that child's movie. Seriously dude, get the lead out.
My single most important goal right now, in my life, is how do I get into public and back out of public as fast as humanly possible. I have mastered the pause. Prior to answering any ass hat, pause and think, do I want to be arrested today? Is it worth it.... I hate to say, I have thought long and hard some days about whether or not it's worth it. God help me if I ever decide that it is.
Let me paint a picture for you. My sons car was broken into. I don't think anything was stolen. I called the non-emergency line and told them what happened. The police officer on the line said, and I QUOTE.... "So, what was stolen?" I responded, "I don't know. Maybe some change. The glove box was open and everything was pulled out." So.... a bucket of change? "Um, no. Like I said, I don't know that anything was stolen." So.... nothing was taken. BIG SIGH. I guess I will come out and take a report.
Can I say that by the time he arrived, I wanted to hand him his ass? I walked out and immediately said, "Can I ask you a question?" He looked at me and said, "Sure." I responded, "So, when there is a crime, even if nothing is taken, we are supposed to call, right?" Pause for effect. "Yes, why?" .... "Well when I called it seemed like I shouldn't have called since nothing was taken. I thought (pause again) that when there is a crime we should report it, that way it shows how many crimes are committed in one place. You know, so that the police know which neighborhoods need more patrolling." It was at this point that I think he realized I was going to be a pain in the ass. Side bar - I get it guys. I respect police officers and I know that coming to take a report such as this IS a pain in the ass. It takes manpower away from bigger crimes. However, the bigger crimes start as the little ones, correct? Plus, I have to do shit jobs at my work. We all do.
I ended my conversation with the man in blue and thanked him for coming out. I hope that I might have said my piece without getting myself in trouble. Again, that could have been that moment when I decided, is it worth it to get arrested? Hmmmm, I'm gonna say not today.
As I sit here, with my stomach rolling over my pants, I gather my strength to get through another day of hot flashes, moodiness, and brain fog. Don't even get me started on the brain fog. Where the hell is my coffee?
Happy Wednesday, All! This concludes my PSA.
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