June 25, 2012 By Linda

Linda and the No Good, Puffy, Cranky and Very Hormonal Day

Note: This post was inspired by Judith Viorst’s book Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, one of my favorites . . . since college.
This morning, I woke up and the laundry was piled something like up to the sky and I tried to find my favorite panties that don’t do that crawly thing but they were already mixed in with all of the other ugly underwear, so I had to wear my granny panties, and I hate my granny panties. “I’m having a bad day,” I said. “I think I’m a little hormonal.” But no one even listened.

Then I went upstairs because my boss said that I had to finish the budget report for the stupid meeting the next day and I sat down at the desk so I could work on it but then I found funner stuff on YouTube and Facebook and pretty soon had to go back downstairs because I was hungry and then I realized that the report probably wouldn’t get in done in time and I called my boss and told her that I really tried but it was too boring and she got really mad. She said maybe I should try the kid’s block on the Internet. “I’m just having a bad day,” I said. “One of those puffy and. . . .” But she had already hung up and I thought about calling her back so I could finish my sentence but I kind of thought her voice sounded a little bit like she didn’t care.

I think I’ll really like menopause—at least the “post” part.

So then I washed my black car and it looked so shiny and beautiful but when I was driving home, the sky spit out just the tiniest little dribble of wet and the wind blew a really big gust of wind so my car looked like a dirty smudgy nightmare by the time I got home from Octopus and I kind of started to whine about how my pretty car was ugly now except my kids were staring at me like maybe I’d lost what was already a pretty small brain, so I stopped whining and said maybe let’s go swim.

And swimming probably would have been a good idea except my stomach was the size of Texas which made me a little mad since I had been very careful to eat only the stuff my mom had told me was good for me so then I thought why not eat a quart of ice cream since I could see it didn’t really matter anyway and that was pretty fun—better than the swimming plan anyway, except that my kids made me share.

So then I called mom. “I’m having a no good, puffy, cranky and very hormonal day,” I said.

Mom said some days are like that. Even after menopause.

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About Linda

Linda spent thirteen years functioning as a working mom (where “functioning” grossly overstates her mental condition and “working” means “income-contributing”). Recently, she joined the ranks of stay-at-home moms (where “stay-at-home” means “working-for-free”), managing her household of six: herself, hubby “BigG,” daughter “Jay” (b.1994), identical tweens “Clyde” and “Tanner” (b.1998), and rescue dog “Lola” (b.1996?). Without diapers or refrigerator letters to explain her new status, Linda spends too much time justifying—to herself—her zero-earnings existence, which leads her to occasionally go where few moms bother to tread, like the end of a 20-foot ladder installing remote-control blinds. Having bluffed her way through toddler- and childhood, Linda only hopes that she and her kids can survive the angst and drama (and jacked-up auto insurance premiums) that precede adulthood. So far so good: C&T are kind, smart, happy guys who are easily entertained. And aside from periodically exuding PMS-induced tension, Jay is an atypical teen who is not really into fashion or boys and actually likes her mom and dad.

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