I Graze, I Scream, I Ignore: A Day in the Life Of a PMS Mom

First of all, I know I celebrated my 100th post a week or two ago but I was mistaken. No excuses, just that I'm a major MORON and counted ALL my posts - drafts, published, and otherwise- rather than just the published ones. Now I see the error of my idiotic ways and, in fact, this is should be is my 100th post.

Tip your glass to me. Apparently I've already tipped a few too many for myself.

In celebration of my 100th post, I have had the worst day evah! Painters are working in my house and the entire contents of my son's room is in my work area (an upstairs hallway). Dirt and leaf fragments from the painters' shoes leave a trail on the narrow carpet path. I go downstairs with my laptop, old, slow, and usually reliable but today the damn thing decided to slam it's doors to the internet so I can't get online for mail or anything! Makes no sense because my upstairs computer connects to the w.w.w., but I really don't want to go there because IT'S A FREAKIN' MESS!

I choke on my Felix Unger tendencies and situate myself amongst footprints and piles of my son's crap precious possessions: numerous crates filled with webkins, plastic dinosaurs of every size and species, "collections" of used scraps of paper, and much, much more. I settle in ready to get some work done and then...yes...you can probably guess, my two month old, shiny, new IMAC crashes. Can you feel the tension? When all else has failed in the past, I cozy up to my Iphone. Today, she too, is cold and unresponsive.

What have I done to deserve this bevy of bitches? I am technologically S-C-R-E-W-E-D not to mention becoming psychologically S-C-R-E-W-Y?

This on top of the fact that the numerous sub-facial bumps on my chin tell me it's encroaching upon THAT time of the month. What do I do to help myself through this hormonal upheaval??? I eat tons and tons of Trader Joe's dark chocolate non-pareils, what else? While shoving them into my mouth two and three at a time, my friend stops by because she was feeling depressed and to help herself through her downward spiral she went bathing suit shopping! Can you count T-W-O M-O-R-O-N-S? I shoved a handful of non-pareils at her, misery loves company.

Going back to the female, hormonal rant, I am so freaking bloated that last night I actually got nervous that I was one of those ignorant, teenage girls who walks around for months not realizing that she's pregnant. I tried to suck in the bloat which usually works but, this time, no matter how hard I squeezed, I couldn't bury a bump the size of a nerf football. I looked like an older, paistier, color-treated version of the Sally Struther's "starving kids.

A day, a bag of corn chips, and way too many non-pareils later, I feel fat, greasy, irritable and cut-off from my social life the blogosphere.

It's almost 6:30 and my kids have not eaten, my house is a pig-sty, and I'm dreading dealing with all of it. All I want to do is shower, dive into a glass of merlot, a vile of ativan, and a PEOPLE magazine.

Pffffffft! Sure, and tomorrow I'm going to wake up looking like Heidi Klum.

Like I said, MORON.