My apologies to any males who may happen to be reading... oh and trust me, if you knew the mood I was in right at this moment, you would realise just how valuable that apology is.
Alternatively, you can read on and shove that apology up your unsympathetic male arse.
Either or, I'm not fussed.
Again... sorry... I am pre-premenstrual.
It's a very real thing you know, pre-premenstrual that is.
For me it happens smack bang in the middle of my cycle, right when my ovaries are screaming at me to either grab the closest caveman (that being my husband hopefully) and demand to procreate NOW or I'm sitting in bed watching a Birth Story marathon and bawling my eyes out.
If the caveman's timing is right, he gets really lucky... if you know what I mean. However if his timing is out by a mere click of the remote control - then he is doomed to sitting in bed next to me holding a box of Kleenex and smiling in a totally non patronising (if he knows what is good for him) and giving me his 100% attention as I sniffle and sob about how beautiful child birth is and how we should have planted at least one of the placentas out of our 3.
For a long time now I have suspected that as a female I am grossly misunderstood by the males in my life. By the males in my life I am referring to my husband and children and the poor shelf packer at Coles who (unfortunately for him) can't find any more almond magnums out on the back dock to calm me during a premenstrual freezer section meltdown.
I don't exactly blame them for misunderstanding me, as I am guessing that watching your wife, mother and late night shopper morph into about 10 different personalities over the space of a month would be more than a little confusing.
After 40 years you'd think I would have settled on one (if not just a few) personalities by now.
But nope every week, sometimes multiple times per week, per day even - I flit between free living earth mother, a speedy Gonzalez control freak, and a psycho stress head who shouldn't be allowed near sharp objects or hair clippers.
There is a pattern to my moods though. I'm not completely random... much.
Week 1 I'm focused and full of ambition. I'm like a stoner with a voucher for 7 eleven. I want everything, I can do anything and nothing will come between me and my corn chips... figuratively speaking.
By the time Week 2 roles around, the focus mellows and I begin to move in a zen like state where nothing is a worry. I'm no longer obsessed with filing socks by size, colour and thickness cause I'm now all about abandoning socks and shoes altogether and wearing organic hemp sandals whilst I grow my dreadlocks.
Week 3 arrives with a bang. At 11am I'm sipping coffee and doodling little love notes for my kids lunchboxes the next day. By 4pm I'm swinging from the clothesline yodelling at the neighbours and begging for someone to come and save me from the little feral people that insist on calling me mum every 5 minutes.
Somewhere towards the end of Week 3 and on the cusp of Week 4, I no longer know who I am.
In one single trip to the grocery store you will find me weeping at the sight of sweet little babies on the bum wipe packaging in aisle 8, getting tactile with and marvelling at artichokes and dragon fruit in the fruit and veg section or over in the freezer aisle screaming for almond Magnums or ramming my wonky trolley into aisle hoggers in a fit of trolley rage.
Week 4... yeah well I can't tell you much about that week as I am usually preoccupied with a hot water bottle, a gin bottle to match and my eyes are typically rolling somewhere in the back of my head as I slip into a chocolate coma.
Geez even I get confused with my own moods.
I should totally come with some kind of warning.
So your turn now because I'm curious (and I waiting for the hubby to get back with a Magnum for me)
Are you pretty much stable throughout the month or do you have a tendency to become a mildly psychotic chameleon like me?