When I was in college my roommates and I would not tolerate whining on each other’s parts. I had 3 roommates in the dormitory room we shared in Akers Hall: Paz and Jooje and LP the Great. When you live with a lot of women, in your room, and on your floor, there is invariably whining in the picture somewhere at any given time, but we would pounce upon any whining and kick it mercilessly with sarcasm until the offender gave it up. Finally, in self-defense someone came up with B.M.C. which was code for what they were doing INSTEAD OF WHINING. “I am NOT WHINING,” someone would whine grumble. “This is Bitching, Moaning and Complaining, but it is NOT WHINING.”
I’m not technically doing either today: whining OR BMC’ing, but I feel like it. I’m just a big old grumpbucket eeyoring my way through the evening. Don’t be cheering me up. I don’t need no stinkin’ cheering up.
Heh.
Nothing is wrong at work or at home, exactly, but this whole week has felt a little off. I’ve eaten too much and not walked enough and went up half a pound which I’m perversely blowing out of all proportion and getting very nearly teary-eyed over. < in a wobbly voice> but I was doing so GOOD < / end self-pity> GAH.
So I ate a goddamned salad for dinner and then I yelled at the kids to clean their goddamned pigsty mess of a kid’s department up. Which they did, of course, because it was pretty obvious I meant business. Then I read them a chapter from Little House on the Prairie and a chapter from Winnie-the-Pooh and kissed them and put them to bed and right there I have empirical proof that I am both a good mother and a bad mother and yes, Virginia, it IS possible to be both, sometimes at nearly the same time!
My mom is going in for surgery next week to remove a 9 cm cyst on her ovary and the doctors decided while they were at it to go to town and TAKE IT ALL OUT, BABY! Well, it’s not like she needs any of it these days, but still. A hysterectomy! 9 centimeters!! That’s 3.5 inches! That’s bigger than an orange! The tests have all come back reassuringly negative and goodnewsy about the lack of cancer possibilities and my mom is calmness and tranquility personified (I just wrote “impersonated” and had to sit still for several seconds while I pondered why that didn’t seem right) but still, she’s going in for major surgery and she’s the only mom I have, not to mention the BEST ONE GOING, and I wish I could be there.
Living this far away from family is never really what I would call a great situation, but sometimes? It really sucks.
PS to the makers of Always Maxi Pads With Flexi-Wings,
What half-baked marketing bullshit demographic were you aiming for when you had “Have a Happy Period — Bonne et heureuse semaine” printed on the pull-off paper covering the adhesive of your products? Have a Happy PERIOD?! Screw you.