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You got to go with Aunt Flo. Or she will destroy you.

My Aunt Flo is due to visit tomorrow, and I have to say I’m just a bundle of anxiety. I don’t know why I’m surprised. It’s always like this, even though she comes every month. Still, somehow I’m consistently taken off guard and unprepared for her visit. I fidget nervously. I’m a bit on edge. Nothing seems right and I have to fix everything before she arrives. Everything!

The pictures on the wall have magically all tilted overnight, and there’s cat hair all over the place. It’s also apparently too difficult for anyone to put their cereal bowls in the sink, or manage to reach the hamper with their dirty underwear. Seriously, are those extra two inches just too much?

Don’t they realize the stress I’m under? She’ll be here any minute.

“Is something wrong?” My husband asks, as I straighten the toys up for the kabillenth time, huffing and puffing and deep sighing, tossing toys with gusto into their bins. Stupid Superman figure. His face is so annoying. He makes me sick. I hurl him into the bin.

“What do you mean?” I snap. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s the same old wrong of every day. Why are you badgering me?!”

He looks afraid, and slowly backs away.

“Where is the freaking phone?” I yell to the air. I was holding it a second ago. A second! Oh, it’s still in my hand. My bad.

There’s too much to do. I need something to eat. And it has to be sweet. I need it right now. I head to freezer and take out my ice cream tub and spoon out five scoops to my usual three, then reconsider, and add another scoop.  I shove the container back into the freezer but something is wrong. It doesn’t close properly no matter how much I slam it. I slam it again! It’s not closing! I can not deal with that right now! I need to eat.

I’m consuming my bowl unconsciously; my brain thinking ahead of all the things that need to be done that aren’t done, and all the things wrong that might never be right, when my son comes in and asks for a cup of milk.

I nod, and reach into the fridge, but there is no milk. There is no milk! How did I let that happen? I’m usually so on top of stuff like that. I am a terrible mom. How do I not have milk for my children?

Tears start to well.

“I’ll have juice, mommy.” My son says, sensing my distress. Overwhelmingly grateful for my sensitive child, I hand him a little box of juice and he runs away happy. He’s so good and sweet. I’m so bad and disgusting.

When my husband comes back in, he finds me sobbing, kicking the freezer door trying to close it.

Tentatively, he steps towards me.

“There’s no milk,” I say.

“It’s okay.” He soothes. He’d better not laugh. If he does, I might kick him next.

I take a deep breath to regroup, and find my ice cream.

It’s all Aunt Flo. She’s making me crazy.

Because the only thing worse than waiting for Aunt Flo is when Aunt Flo is late.

nostalgictelevision.blogspot.com

Sometimes, you’ve got to go with the Flo. 

photo credit: nostalgictelevision.blogspot.com

 

About Ice Scream Mama

Mama to 3 boys, wife to Mr. Baseball and daughter of a sad man. I have a double scoop every day.

53 responses »

  1. Winnie Schindler

    which aunt flo are we talking about, the real aunt flo can be a little scary too, the other one if late can really be scary. love ya

    On Tue, Nov 19, 2013 at 6:26 AM, Icescreammama

    Reply
  2. I know that feeling and I know it well. Wait til you get near my age and stop having Aunt Flo visit but yet, all the hormones still come with it. And because I’m peri-menopausal, it’s like times 3. I think I’ll go have a cry for you.

    Reply
  3. I didn’t laugh. Don’t kick me.

    Reply
  4. Hahaha!! Loved this essay!!! I feel your pain!

    Reply
  5. I’m laughing and crying all at the same time because this is brilliant. Who among us hasn’t sobbed into some inanimate object and then stuck our faces in a bowl of ice cream?

    Reply
  6. I am always shocked, SHOCKED, that THAT is the reason for me acting all wonky. It’s like, oh my god, I can’t seem to stop shoving food into my face, and why is everything so annoying, and why am I so fat and can’t fit into any of my clothes, and why are my husband and kids such unfeeling monsters, and why am I craving a hamburger when I don’t eat red meat, and why does my tummy hurt . . . WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME???

    And then the next morning, I’m like . . . oh, yeah, that. Right. Ok, then.

    EVERY. SINGLE. MONTH.

    Sigh.

    Reply
  7. OMG, I’m DYING over here! That is EXACTLY what it’s like!!!!!!!!!

    Reply
  8. Your aunt flo and my aunt flo are on the same flight. It was hell on wheels the other night. Oh, it’s so confusing and painful when she shows up.

    Reply
  9. perfection. that’s what this post is.

    Reply
  10. I killed at aunt flo years ago via hysterectomy. I admit, I danced on her grave. Until her double agent men.o.pause showed up. Talk about the cray-cray. This was really funny and right on point. I love that you posted this to the challenge grid, a personal narrative about your aunt flo. love it!

    Reply
  11. You nailed it. Every month. After 20 some odd years I’m finally barely starting to sort of realize why I feel out of control the same time every month. GAH.

    Reply
  12. Boy, do I feel stupid. I really thought your aunt was visiting. Wow. Ok, so it’s been a while since I’ve been around anyone whose aunt is visiting, is my excuse. And because gender.

    But know what? I still laughed — that’s how well-written this is.

    Reply
  13. Great post!!! I get this. Oh, do I get this. Sometimes I go into a rage. Sometimes a deep, deep depression. Sometimes I’m just a bit bitchier than usual.

    P.S. I recently taught my kids to say ‘Kiss my grits!’

    Reply
  14. Yes! Every single month, I’m totally mystified why I feel on edge and extra sensitive. You’d think I’d have this thing figured out by now. 🙂

    Reply
  15. too funny…I miss those grits!!

    Reply
  16. This was gross and then funny, and then funny some more and then hilarious and then gross again. Lol. When we used to run out of milk or my tea pitcher was empty, I’d put the empty container in the doorway where I knew my wife was going to be walking soon. She LOVED that! Lol. I would just make my own tea, but hers tastes better for some reason. Probably the extra ingredient is love.

    Reply
  17. Right on, right on. I just posted three things I was totally wrong about a while ago. One of them was PMS. I never got it when I was young, and I thought women made it up as an excuse to be bitchy. Now Aunt Flo arrives with a vengeance, and I know I was sorely deceived in my belief that PMS was just a myth. God, I was a bitch for ever stating that.

    Reply
  18. She wasn’t late, was she?

    Reply
  19. I spent my day yesterday crying at the drop of a hat, gorging like I was preparing for hibernation (I didn’t take the time to scoop the ice cream into a bowl, I ate it straight from the container!!), and pissing and moaning because none of my clothes fit right. At the end of the day I looked at the calendar and saw that it was the 21st. And then I was like “oooohhhhh, yeeeaaaaaahhhhhhh!!”

    So, perfect timing for this post … and perfectly captured series of events!

    Reply

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