Last week I was on the rag.
For those of you unfamiliar with that analogy, let me break it down for you: I was on my period, mother nature dropped her bombshell, my menses came to pass. Got it? Okay.
So I was on the rag and I walked into my bathroom and lo and behold, my eye balls landed on the little basket full of tampons and pads and shit that sits unobtrusively in the corner once a month.
And I got really pissed off.
Whose brilliant fucking idea was it to put butterflies and flowers on feminine hygiene product packaging?
Let me be clear: pieces of my body are flowing out at a high rate of speed. I’m cramping so hard, at any given moment my ovaries are going to rip their way out of my body like a scene out of Alien. I don’t wanna see no stinking flowers. (said like Al Pacino in Scarface)
I want to see a skull and crossbones with a bio hazard symbol.
I want to see a little note reminding me that I really do love my husband and not to smother him in his sleep.
I want to find a coupon good at any grocery store for a free bottle of wine AND a gallon of ice cream.
I want to unwrap a tampon and immediately hear the voices of a thousand tiny angels singing in perfect harmony that it’s almost over and then make it rain glitter in celebration of the fact.
I mean really, is all of that too much to ask??
Because I just. can’t. even. with the damn butterflies and flowers.
Last night after dinner I was in the kitchen washing dishes like I do every f-ing night, and my 5th grader was sitting at the kitchen table doing his math home work.
A gusty sigh reached my ears and I asked him if he needed help.
“Yes, but you won’t get it.”
Ummmm, excuse me?? Been there done that with 5th grade math buddy. I think I can handle it. (yeah right)
So I tell him give me a sec and I’ll give it a look-see.
A minute later I walk over to give it a little look and a little see and what do you know? Fuck My Life I couldn’t help him.
Math was never my strong point in school and still isn’t. I’m a house wife. I know functioning math. I can budget and balance like a boss. When I go to baking, my measurement skills are on point. Throw an algebraic equation at me and combine it with dividing decimals and I’ll tell you to go to hell.
Fast forward to this morning: “Mom, can you get my math sheet for me?” Apparently he slept on it and knew where he had been going wrong, because in 60 seconds, he had it figured out then proceeded to explain it to me.
Which led to today’s epiphany: I would have grown up to be a mother f-ing math genius if my teachers had been super smart 5th graders.
So I guess there’s kind of a moral to my story.
Maybe if more of us slept on our problems as opposed to throwing in the towel, we’d approach everything life gives us with a clear head, open mind and a calm manner.
I think I need to thank my ten year old for that reminder.
Twenty years ago I didn’t picture myself where I currently am in life.
Where exactly am I did you say??
I’ll tell you.
A thirty something mother of two who spends more time in pajamas than real clothes with no career to speak of that wraps up in a giant pink robe every night and drinks wine straight from the bottle while binge watching shit on her DVR when the kids go to bed.