The joys of womanhood.

I've written that title and can't quite think how to carry on except to say this will be about PMS / PMT whatever you call it depending on where you live.
I didn't used to be affected too harshly by the meanness of P.M anything, tension, syndrome or stress, just used to get on with it, either happy I wasn't pregnant or sad I wasn't pregnant.
Suddenly, I find myself in a warped new world every 4 weeks.....not fun for me and probably not fun for anyone I live with but lets face it who the hell cares when you're about to explode?
That water retention is something else, I am suprised that my family can't hear my every cell filling up with water, I swear I can feel it, shhhhhhhhwishhhhh bloat, bloat, swell, bloat. With it comes an undeniable feeling of 'filling up' emotionally......I am a human version of one of those fake thermometer things that charities stick on walls to show how much they are receiving, only I'm not getting any sweet little felt pen mercury I am getting boiling and bubbling RAGE ......No kidding, my normal reasonable and, in my opinion, somewhat doormatty type personality, begins a terrifying decline into purple faced, head exploding, please let me get out of this car and punch the smarmy grin off your face, kind of fury.
On a day to day basis I do pretty well in NOT jumping from my elderly people carrier and ramming my fist into the face of total idiots who obviously have never read the part in the highway code explaining that 43 year old women with mental health issues, PMS and a BIG, heavy car that is worth very little in monetary terms, although very dear to my heart, should be given the right of way at all times, don't blow your horn if she knows ( even if you don't) that she can easily make it before you can, don't make the rude hand gestures if she decides that she has sat waiting long enough, thankyou, for inconsiderate men in flash cars to let her out and makes up her mind that she is damn well going right NOW, so get the hell out of the way.
I do OK at that but I'm here to admit that I am on a thin string where the kids are concerned. You all know how adored Isaac is and for 3 weeks out of the month he is openly adored , a couple of days a month he gets marginally less adoration and the rest, well he's lucky if he gets through the day without seeing my ears bleed and the top of my head explode.
He is divine and I understand that he has so many issues and fears to contend with but let me tell you, when you wake up feeling at least 100lbs heavier with water bloat, your face looks like some braille writer has written ( s'cuse me mum) F**KING HELL where's the Oxy 10? from brow to chin. Your ears are picking up every sound from here to Texas even though it would appear the rest of the world has gone totally deaf , because every request, no matter how simple or easily understood is ignored by one and all (unless it is screamed with such velocity as to cause curtains to open by themselves. ) when you feel like that, it seems that the rituals of an aspergers child are sent for no other reason than to test every raw nerve in your body. Picture this.....
6.30am, leave bedroom after customary 4 hours ( if I'm lucky) sleep.
" Good morning my Isaac"
" It's nurfery today?"
" It IS,how wonderful is that? Not yet though because it's very early"
" Me go a nurfrey me no want snack, me put lellow ba on piano"
"yep, you're a star, Jenny is thrilled that your blanket stays on the piano"
" neese my cloves?"
"yes, they are your clothes, but you don't need to get dressed yet because...."
" Oh me no want nat shirt, me want number 10 shirt, me hate nem jeans me want light jeans"
"well, you wore your number 10 shirt and your light jeans yesterday and they are dirty so these are the clothes you are wearing today, you like these clothes" ( oh please not today my head will burst if i have to do this today)
" WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
BUT ME HATE NEM CLOVES!!ME LUFF MY NUMBER 10 SHIRT AND MY LIGHT JEANS!"
and this goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on, whilst this is going on I am reconnecting with every scrap of religion I ever had and praying that it will stop soon, I ponder the reality of there actually being 'angels above us,their silent notes taking' and asking if it IS true, could they put down their pencils for just a minute or three and wave whatever they wave ( or am I thinking fairies here? who cares just send either) and persuade Isaac that actually the stripey shirt HE chose only last week is a nice shirt, a kind shirt, it has had it's tags cut out so that they won't scrape the skin off his neck, it has been ironed and softened and lovingly washed and stroked and folded ready for wearing....the jeans Jordan bought him are still great jeans, he wore them for weeks saying over and over that he luff neese jeans......what happened? What did the nasty jeans do while I wasn't looking?
I know that I have a PMS face and I can feel that I am the twin of Miss Trunchball, scowling face and thundering walk but am powerless to change it, the best I can do is say " not a good time to irritate me, stay away and leave me to be quiet if you know what's best!"
Yikes....it's almost enough to make me look forward to the menopause, except that brings mood swings and all kinds of other delights too...oh the joys of being a woman, at least there is one consolation, I don't have to be married to one, now that could well be MUCH worse! H is very smart, he has learned that one week a month I am right, whatever I say, do or ask I am right.Clever man.