I have found the chink in my thyroid medicine's armor: PMS! I am in full raging-bitch-on-wheels mode! Red alert! Red alert! This is not a drill! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! All in one day I have cried for no reason, been bitchy for no reason, had three headaches (I know, maybe it's the same headache just taking pee breaks, whatever, shut up), taken a three-hour power nap, whined about stupid things like why we have no cereal left (I mean, I just bought two boxes two days ago and they're gone! that's a box a day! that's carbohydrate overload!), laughed myself silly over the cute little things my kids do, and inhaled exactly 3.53 ounces of chocolate. I think I would recommend everyone just stay away from me for another 24-48 hours. This is how I used to be when I was young and my thyroid was still pulling its own weight. So it's a good sign, but I think I might be driving my family to contemplate restraining and gagging me.
I was going(I just cannot stop with the italics tonight) to bake my own very healthy, very yummy granola bars this weekend and continue with my campaign to shock and amaze all who know me. But, alas, it was not to be. My ovaries had other plans for me. I did my shopping blitz on Friday (pre-PMS) and brought home all kinds of clever little bits of healthy food with which to fool my children into eating something nutritious at least once a day.
See? I was going to chop and roast and mix and bake and have little bars of love to wrap up and nestle sweetly in Man-Cub's lunch box. I was going to be waiting at the door with my apron on and a tray of homemade bars and a tall glass of ice cold milk when the children got home from school! I was going to be the best mom ever!
But now? It's Sunday night and I haven't baked a single thing and now there are no granola bars to pack for tomorrow's lunch. And we've snacked on all the yummies all weekend (after I told everyone--including myself--not to) and I'm not sure there's enough left to even make granola bars. Damn ovaries.
I am also, like, totally bummed that I don't have a clever little camera at my disposal all the time anymore! We lost it back in May, but I've been in denial about it and keep trying to believe it will turn up and we'll slap ourselves on the forehead in disbelief that it was there this whole time. I don't want to believe that someone else has absconded with it and has callously deleted all our happy family photos to use the card space for revolting photos like dogs dressed up in costumes or friends throwing up at keggers or something. But I fear it's true. Either that, or the camera is lying in a field or at the bottom of a river in New Hampshire and is in ruins due to either the cows or the water. Oh well. Easy come, easy go.
Except that it's not easy! I have only one way to post photos now and it is so complicated I'd rather spend time I don't really have looking around on the Internet for photos that closely resemble what I would have taken photos of! And that, my imaginary friends, is lame. And frustrating. I won't tell you how long it took me just to find the photos for this post because it might make me cry. Or punch a hole in my monitor. Or hold up the convenience store around the corner for the contents of its candy aisle.
I do think it's time I put myself to bed. No one else will dare come close enough to do it for me. If only I had some wine.
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