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  • I’m enjoying summer break quite a lot this year.  The kids seem to be having a good time, too.  I do wonder, however, if they realize how lucky they are that I haven’t succumbed to the urge to knock their heads together during one of their many squabbling sessions.
  • Mom and Dad are down in Oregon again, looking at houses.  No, no contract on the one in Georgia (yet!), but they still wanted to look around and see what’s available.
  • By the way, how adorable are my parents?  This is what nearly 42 happy years of marriage looks like:

  • Hmm.  42.  Sounds like the answer to something.  Or everything.  And yes, I know Mom doesn’t look old enough to have been married that long.
  • Dad wouldn’t, either, but for his gorgeous white hair!  Since he was a young(er) man, he’s been looking forward to the day when he’d have a nice, thick head of white hair.  When I told him a few years ago that it was starting to turn from grey to white at the crown, he got pretty excited.
  • We got a notice last week that we would have to switch Kalen’s maintenance asthma medicine to a mail order refill in order to keep it on plan.  Okay, fine by me.  However, when I went online to do the transfer yesterday, I found that Jason had to approve my ability to see our kids’ prescription histories.  Excuse me?!?  I’m their MOTHER, for crying out loud.  Someone’s going to be getting a nasty phone call.
  • We finally have our new dishwasher.  The drama got much more intense than when last I updated you, but suffice to say it involved three separate attempts to deliver over a two-week period, and a nearly two-hour visit from an electrician.  BUT, we have a new dishwasher!  It’s a nice one, too.  Nice enough that I’m going to have to sit down and read the manual to figure out what all the different buttons and beeps mean.
  • Hey, it’s Tuesday!  If you’d like some more randomness, try checking at Keely’s place.

Sweet Shot Day

My emotions and I are having a little bit of a rough week.

week of PMS – a full, freaking week of it.  Daylight Savings.  Half-days and teacher work days.  Shifts at the book fair -not necessarily a stressor, and definitely not something I mind doing, but something I have to remember to do.  A trip to the doctor when Nicolas reacted to a medication – he’s fine, no worries.  Political “stuff” I don’t completely understand in an organization I’m involved in.  And an awesome, wonderful blogger, whose writing I adore, has cancer.

These are the things that add up to me wanting to crawl into a hole and come out when someone else has done the dishes piled up in the sink and on the counter, folded the laundry in the baskets, and made me a giant chocolate cake.  Or, when someone has broken in and stolen everything (including the mess), allowing me to start from square one.

That doesn’t happen.  What does happen, however, when I’m in this state goes something along the lines of:

Me: I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

Jason: (fresh in from work and holding a bag of fast food, because he could tell from my voice on the phone that cooking dinner was well outside my sanity level this particular evening): I do.

Me: What do you mean?  Why am I so out of it, so tired, so hungry all the time?  Why can’t I focus on anything?

Jason: *Staring meaningfully at me, waiting for realization to hit*

Me: …?…

Jason: Isn’t it about time…?

Me: OHhhhhhhhhhhh.  Yeah.

I find it flabbergasting that there are people out there who don’t “believe in” PMS.  Or, alternatively, who snidely snicker over women’s changing emotions like it’s a sign of weakness or an excuse to be a bitch.  I mean, really…anyone who’s ever experienced it would never choose to have to deal with this kind of crap on a regular basis.  Or ever.  It’s basically several days of clinical depression each month, only I never remember it being as bad as it always seems to end up being.  This month is particularly worse than usual, reminding me very much of PPD, probably for the reasons I mentioned.

So, here’s how I deal with PMS*: I get through the daylight hours and look forward to 6pm.  By that time, Jason’s usually home from work, hugging me, telling me he appreciates me, and taking over dinner, the kids, and me.  As in, “Here’s a burger.  Go.  Sit.  Eat.”  He remembers when I’m too distressed to that beef does my body good when I’m in this state.  A burger – even an unhealthy, fried, fast food one – does the double duty of settling my hormones and acting as comfort food.  I don’t know why I never manage to remember this, and half the time, when Jason hands me a burger, I still don’t remember why.  I just hug him, go, sit, and eat.  And feel loads better within moments.

Seriously, is there anything better than having a spouse  or partner who gets you?  Who just plain gets you and knows exactly what you need when you’re far from your best?  I can’t imagine there is.

*Today, I discovered another good thing to have in your anti-PMS arsenal: a good friend and Starbucks.  Unbeatable combination when you feel like screaming your fool head off.  I’ve already thanked her in person and on Facebook and Twitter, but THANK YOU, j.  I don’t know if you realize how valuable that hour was.

November 6 was the fifteenth anniversary of the day Jason and I met.  I had it in mind all year, and had planned to get him a card…nothing too special, just an acknowledgment of the the date and a thank you for all he brings to my life.  That was two days after his job ended, and the day got lost in the emotional shuffle.  I was a little sad and disappointed when I realized, but it is, after all, just a date on a calendar.  (Besides, it’s only five more years until I can recognize the twentieth!)

December 19 was the fifteenth anniversary of our first date.  We had planned at one point to go out that evening…dinner at the same restaurant (where we have traditionally gone for our wedding anniversary), a show.  Just like that first night.  It wasn’t in the cards this year.  Instead, that evening was spent in another of our favorite pursuits – dinner and cards at our best friends’ house.  We don’t see them nearly often enough.  It was wonderful.

December 29, 1997

December 29, 1997

Yesterday, December 29, was our eleventh wedding anniversary.  (Holy cow.  Look how young Jason looks in that pic!)  We celebrated by interviewing Realtors, grabbing Chick-Fil-A with the boys for dinner, going to Nicky’s karate class as a family (instead of my usual preference: divide-and-conquer), playing our new favorite family game (Whoonu; more on that another time), and receiving word that Jason is definitely going to be flying out to Seattle for an in-person interview.

It wasn’t our usual anniversary celebration, by far.  One of the sets of grandparents typically takes the kids (which fell through this year thanks to a horrible stomach virus in grandparentland), and we enjoy dinner out and maybe a movie.  Last year, we went to North Carolina for a long weekend, toured Biltmore, etc.

I’m very content with our eleventh anniversary, though.  I can’t help but feel excited at the changes happening for our family, and everything seems to be moving forward in a “just right” manner.  There will be time and money later for evenings out and gifts exchanged.

I love you, Honey.  Thank you for everything.  Happy Anniversaries.

My boys

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