Mar 15 25 comments

Let the Sun Shine In (Before I Bite Someone’s Head Off)!

Hi! I’m happy! How are you?

Ha…I know. That kind of intro to a post just makes me sound crazy. Pretty soon I’ll be handing out flowers at the airport in a melon colored sari. And right now? That doesn’t sound half bad because the clouds have parted and the SUN IS SHINING! For a change.

You see, for months now, I’ve been on this rollercoaster of mood swings. I think it’s commonly referred to as PMS except mine is more like Pre-Menstrual Life Force-Sucking Demon from Hell…or PMLFSDH. And I do NOT exaggerate.

You menfolk might just want to check out now since I’ll be talking about lady things like OVULATION and PERIOD and BLOOD. Although a real man would stay. And leave a supportive comment. Or at least tell me I’m pretty.

Okay, for those that are still playing along at home… It starts around ovulation—my sex drive escalates because mother nature is a whore that wants to knock me up AGAIN. I mean really, the time you’re most fertile and likely to conceive should be the time you LEAST want to get busy but nooooo… Propagation of the species blah blah blah. WHATEVER. Like we NEED more oxygen-hogging PEOPLE on the planet…

So anyway, after the three day window of IREALLYWANTSEX closes, the PMLFSDH starts to kick in. I become irritable. And hungry. And anti-social. And anxious. And SO SO SO tired. Like the “my whole body aches with tired” kind of tired and I nap every morning as soon as everyone leaves. And I have ZERO motivation to do ANYTHING. And I don’t answer the phone. And I get sad. And melancholic. And I feel persecuted. And I’m positive everyone hates me. And I break out like a 14 year old boy. And the mood-elevating drugs are a FAIL. And did I mention being irritable?

And this shit goes on for TEN TO TWELVE MISERABLE DAYS in which I pray every second for my period to come—I literally sit there staring at the white toilet paper willing a hint of pink to magically appear on it because I just want the PMLFSDH to STOP. I mean, really,  who prays for their period anymore? That’s so high school. And college. And first six years of marriage…

But then I wake one day, like I did this past Thursday, and I’m happyish. I don’t hate the world. And I don’t want to bite the heads off of live humans anymore. Not even a little.

I know without even looking that my period has arrived.

I can answer the phone again. And make plans with people. And do stuff like clean the house and plan meals and spend honest-to-God quality time with my kids and feel warm and fuzzy about life and I’m so happy to feel happy that I become giddy. And I make jokes. And I don’t want to eat big bowls of butter and sugar. Or a pound of bacon. And I feel like exercising again.

And everyone breathes a sigh of relief because that awful woman is gone and the awesome, fun, patient one is back.

But I know it won’t last and I find myself mentally calculating the number of good days I have left until the huge black clouds comes back and take their preferred spot right over my head and the cycle starts all over again.

So, if you know me and I suddenly check out, nowhere to be found…or I snap at you…or criticize you mercilessly…or eye your food like I’ve been starving for months…or don’t do ANY of the stuff I said I would do etc etc etc?

Well, now you know why. Just go away and leave me the hell alone.

If I’m not completely embarrassed by something I did or said, I promise I’ll call you when I get my period.

Filed Under: Blog, Incessant Whining, Personal
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Mar 08 31 comments

Really, Like, Deep Thoughts on Marriage…

I recently wrote this post over at Aiming Low today about the things men do that will cause them to NOT get sex and while I was writing it, it got me thinking about marriage.

I got married in my mid-twenties. We were madly in love and you know..it was all going to be sunshine and rainbows and good times.

Of course, the honeymoon doesn’t last forever and neither did the sunshine and rainbows but overall, it hasn’t been a bad ride. However, I’ve always wondered what exactly it is that makes that initial WOW factor fade, for most couples, shortly after settling into marriage.

If you ask a scientist, they’ll tell you it’s all chemical.

If you ask a sex therapist or marriage counselor, they’ll tell you that the novelty of romance can’t last without a lot of work.

I do agree with both of those but if you ask me, it’s the way WE ALL regard marriage that is the biggest buzzkill of all.

I mean think about it…

A man gets married and he has to have a bachelor party to mourn his impending nuptials and the fact that, theoretically, he won’t be having sex with any other women ever again. Way to support your friend in one of the biggest decisions he will ever make, guys! THANKS.

Then there are the euphemisms… Men stop calling us their girlfriends or anything even remotely cute or fun and start referring to us as “the wife.” It’s a total cliché and I HATE IT.

I am not “the wife.” And Christ on a crutch….I’m sure as hell not “the old ball and chain” If a man thinks that about the woman HE chose to marry then WHY did he marry her?

And then there are the ways that married people make marriage appear really lame and uncool and give endless amounts of fodder to sitcom writers…

The stuff-naming… Holy mother of all things good and decent—please, married people, do NOT give cutesy names to your stuff. This really DOES make marriage look like the stupidest institution ever.

Dude, they got married and suddenly all their stuff has these dumb names. WTH? <– What your single friends are saying behind your back.

I know people that have named their cars, their boat trailer and probably the husband’s  penis, as well. I’m asking nicely that you not do this. Really. Just don’t.

Another one that I don’t like because is on message boards, blogs and forums, women refer to their husband as their DH. I think it means their Dear Husband. Or Darling Husband. Whatever. It’s goofy and dorky and just adds another layer of stupidness to the way society thinks of married people…like we go around referring to each other as DH’s and DW’s. Ugh. DONOTLIKE.

When my husband refers to me to his friends, he usually says “my girl” i.e. “No, my girl hates sushi…how about Thai or Indian instead?”

And for this? I am eternally grateful.

In return, I refrain from saying things like “My hubby” which always reminds me of Chubby Hubby ice cream and has to be the most horrible husband reference ever invented.

And? Totally NOT conducive to thinking of your man as that hot number you married X years ago. He’s now HUBBY. Yickkkkkkk.

Now, to be clear, I’m no expert on marriage and maybe, BEYOND ALL REASON, you find all that stuff super hot and romantical.

If you do, GREAT!  Please disregard this post and go on with your bad self. I promise not make fun of you for saying “hubby” or naming your stuff…

Oh, who am I  kidding?

I probably will.

Filed Under: Blog, Commentary
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Feb 23 30 comments

Always with the Guilt…

I’m not an anxious person by nature. I mean I do worry about things but I don’t SUFFER from anxiety naturally. It’s actually a side effect of my antidepressant which…I’m pretty sure I can’t live without. So. I just deal with the unfortunate side effect of random anxiety.

It doesn’t come every day. In fact most days I don’t have it at all. But when I do, it’s horrible. Today is one of those days. It made me think I had an upset stomach at first. But then the guilt started creeping up on me and that’s when I realized that this horribly unsettled feeling I have is the anxiety monster. Again.

The guilt, always with the guilt… It overwhelms me and I feel so awful. I don’t know what to do with myself.

All I can think about is lost time and missed opportunities and things that will never be again and I just want to cry except I can’t because my kids are here and it would upset them. And considering that every ounce of guilt in my pounding heart is about my failings as a mother, the last thing I want to do is upset my kids.

Why? WHY do I dwell on these things? My rational self knows it’s just the anxiety talking and it also knows that regret is a useless emotion, that what’s done is done. Nonetheless, all I can do is think about how my kids aren’t babies anymore and all the times I didn’t play dolls with my daughter (because I really hate playing dolls) and how now she likes to go in her room and read or draw. With the door closed. And it’s like a sign to my crazy anxious heart that she is slipping away from me and I want to cry for all the times I missed playing with the little girl that she is no more. And I know it’s absurd. I know I have done plenty of memorable, wonderful things with her but I can’t think about that. All I can think about are the reasons I should feel horrible; all the ways in which I’ve failed.

My son is 4 now and while I feel so shitty and anxious that I just want to roll up in a little ball and sleep forever, that I WANT to do that is just one more example of how I am failing him. Why am I not outside with him. Why are we in the house? And then I think of all the reasons we’re not outside and goddammit. I’m just full of excuses, aren’t I? So I pledge that tomorrow will be different even though I’m pretty sure it won’t be. I know myself. And I fail again.

So I give in and I take the Xanax. I never want to but it works and soon all of this will seem silly and maybe even comical—but you know what? I’m going to publish it anyway. Because this is the truth.

Filed Under: Blog, Character Flaws, Incessant Whining, Personal
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Jan 14 103 comments

I Want

Originally published in September, 2008. Resurrected by request for Sarah D.

Lately, I’ve been lost in my head. Daydreaming. Longing. Wishing I had a time machine or some such device that would let me be young again. It’s not that I want to relive my youth; my glory days, per se. I don’t want to repeat history — I got my ya ya’s out before settling down, had a good long stint of married life before having kids. Theoretically, I did everything right and yet, I find myself wishing for something I’ll never have again — a carefree life; a life where the future is but a vague concept; a life where now is the only thing that matters.

I want to get dressed up to go out at midnight. I want to drink without worrying about a hangover. I want to be reckless. I want to sneak backstage and party with the band. I want to hang out of a car window while screaming my head off. I want to go to late night after parties and make out with someone cute that I’ll never see again. I want to go out to breakfast at 4am and giggle uncontrollably because my friends are tripping too hard to order. I want to befriend strangers and have deep conversations with them over too many drinks and too many cigarettes. I want my posse of crazy girlfriends and all the drama that comes with them. I want to flirt with lanky, long-haired boys that have no money or prospects. I want to take roadtrips without any advance planning and too many people in the car. I want to be seduced. I want to get love letters. I want bootycalls. I want to have an urgent need to go to the record store because I just heard the most amazing song. I want to live on pizza and saltine crackers. I want to be idealistic again. I want to be as skinny as I was when I thought I was fat. I want to come home at dawn with five friends in tow, pile onto my bed and sleep with them. I want to feel the feeling of having a crush. I want to feel that feeling of kissing someone in a way that makes you ache with desire. I want to rage against the machine. I want to LIVE.

It’s not that I hate the life I have. I wouldn’t change it for anything. But at heart, I’m a restless soul. I always want more from life than is possible. And this thing…this daydream that won’t stop, this longing — how do I make it go away?

You can call it whatever you want — a mid-life crisis, a housewife’s lament, whatever.

Just tell me I’m not the only one who’s ever felt this way.

Filed Under: Blog, Personal
Dec 11 27 comments

Dear Craigslist People

Dear Craigslist People,

I know you turn to Craigslist to find a bargain (unless you’re one of those jackasses that posts nekkid pix of yourself from your Grandma’s bathroom…the crocheted poodle toilet paper cover is a dead giveaway, just in case you were wondering how I knew you were at your Grandma’s house perving it up in her bathroom. Also, FYI, pictures taken in your nasty bedroom with the Whitesnake poster on the wall OR a Spongebob blanky anywhere in sight? NOT HOT )

Anyway, I know you folks want to save a few bucks so you look around on Craigslist but seriously, you need to KNOW a few things…

If I’m selling 60 pieces of name-brand girls clothing, all in excellent condition and I’m only asking $20, which, for the math-impaired, is 33¢ an item, I’m NOT taking pictures of every single item and I’m NOT going to answer stupid questions about every item and I’m NOT going to sell it to you for five freaking dollars—especially when I know your cheap, sorry ass is probably going to turn around and sell it on eBay anyway. Which is fine. I hate eBay so better you than me. But I’d give it to Goodwill before I’d let you have it for that—go buy it from them. I mean really…have you NO shame? I’d be embarrassed to ask people to give me a SEVENTY FIVE PERCENT price break…

The same goes for the Little Tikes Craftsmen Tool Bench. Dude…it’s in mint condition and I’m asking twenty dollars for it. Do NOT send me an email asking if I’ll take five for it.  Is there anything in my listing that says this is “Let’s Make a Really Bad (for me) Deal?” If you seriously can’t afford more than five bucks, maybe you should SELL YOUR COMPUTER (I’ll give you five bucks for it) and get rid of your internet service instead of lowballing people on Craigslist all day long.

And finally, for all you asswipes that bug the living crap out of me and beg me to not sell my stuff to someone else and then don’t show up… I wish you a scorching case of herpes with a nice sprinkling of genital warts. I mean you clearly have a phone, since you called me 17 times to make sure I hadn’t sold the item(s) you so desperately wanted. How about picking up said phone and letting me know you won’t be coming? I might even be nice and understanding and NOT wish you a lifetime of oozing blisters and weird bumpy things on your nether regions. But if you offer me five dollars? All bets are off.

As ever,
IzzyMom

Filed Under: Blog, Incessant Whining, Jackassery, LOL
Nov 17 10 comments

Help for Anissa Mayhew

anissamayhew

11/21/09

My most recent post about Anissa can be found here.

11/20/09

For the most current updates on Anissa’s progress, please check her blog, Hope 4 Peyton. Anissa’s husband will be updating as necessary.

•••

As you may have heard, Anissa, our beloved friend and leader here at Aiming Low, suffered a massive stroke on Tuesday afternoon. She is in the hospital right now, in the ICU.

More than anything, Anissa needs your prayers and positive thoughts but to the many people who have offered help to the Mayhew family, here is some info on what you can do:

Things that would be helpful right now are gift cards (AMEX and Visa are most flexible) or gift cards to restaurants and the movies or to Blockbuster (to help keep the kids’ occupied).

If you would like to give a restaurant gift card, the following restaurants are local to them: Chick Fil A, Beef O’Brady’s, Hooter’s, Applebee’s, Moe’s, Ruby Tuesday, Red Lobster, Cracker Barrel, Panera Bread, Sonny’s, Burger King, Zaxby’s, McDonald’s, Subway.

A P.O. Box has been set up to receive any items you wish to send, the address can be found below. Please don’t send anything to the hospital or the Mayhew home. If you have questions, please email helpforanissa@gmail.com

We ask that you please respect the Mayhew family’s privacy by NOT calling the hospital and we thank you all SO MUCH for your outpouring of love and support for Anissa and her family.

With thanks and love,
IzzyMom & the Aiming Low Team

If you would like to send something to Anissa and her family, we have set up a P.O. Box.

The Mayhew Family
860 Johnson Ferry Road 140-184
Atlanta, GA 30342

Please consider making a donation to the Mayhew Family to help with costs.
(Copy the code below, if you’d like to post this button on your own site)

help4anissa

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Posts about Anissa. Please add yours to the list:

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Nov 16 15 comments

Black Holes and Revelations

I had a terrible revelation last night…

My husband and I were in bed watching the Doctor Who special (yes, we’re geeks and I kinda love David Tennant so SHUT IT) and this particular story was set in the year 2059.

I didn’t give the year 2059 a second thought until my husband randomly noted out loud that our daughter will be 59 in 2059.

For some reason I was compelled to do the math in my head and I realized I would be 92 in 2059. And most likely dead.

I will be dead someday. Intellectually, I KNOW this. But for some reason it hit me particularly hard.

There will come a day that my kids are very much grown up and I won’t be here.

And I really wanted to cry.

……

Want a peek behind the veil? Want to see how I REALLY live? Go here…

Filed Under: Blog, Personal