From the Blog

Only Slightly Less Lady Crazy

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My significant other has confided in me that the reason he finds me so charming is because (he says) I’m so much less crazy than other women. I’m not sure how he has come to this conclusion. Because I will readily admit, I got plenty of the woman crazy. I have specifically and and repeatedly warned him that I’m loads crazy in all sorts of crazy ways, and he has been, thus far, unconvinced. Though he has admitted that when I seem to go a little off the deep end, no one seems more aware of it than me. I’m a nutjob, but I am aware of it. Makes for great entertainment if you are not me.

As I have related here, we recently moved, and the past few weeks have been chaotic. I have held my shit together with a fair amount of success. But I recognized that trying to fit all our stuff into a smaller apartment was causing me distress. I heard on more than one occasion “You need to get rid of more of your stuff.” My stuff. And my PMS-y brain heard this as, “We need to sacrifice your childhood teddy bear on the railroad tracks by the river.”

What? My stuff? Get rid of it? And what? Share stuff that isn’t mine? Needless to say, I felt a bit resistant to getting rid of any of my stuff. So yes, I can’t shut up about it: Moving is hard. Especially when, you know, I’m hormonal. Sorry, readers who may be menfolk. I don’t mean to talk about lady business. But perhaps this is helpful. I’m trying to help explain why women are crazy. If you’re crazy and you know it, clap your hands, CLAP! CLAP! Etc.

And for the most part, it is insidious. Mood changes don’t usually knock on the door, announce themselves, and start drinking your beer. For me, it creeps in all stealthy and I don’t seem to notice. And it ramps up so discretely that by the time I recognize my irritation, “Oh! PMS!” I’m already pissed off and not amused. And there’s not a lot that can be done at that point. Just because I recognize why I feel that way, doesn’t make it go away.

I had a moment yesterday where I briefly experienced an exceedingly rapid, whiplash, change of mood. Again, that whole hormonal thing. In my usual unfocused train of thought, I was thinking of dinner plans, and I remembered that I was going to make roasted squash risotto with pancetta. And for three whole seconds, I was so blissfully goddamned happy, thinking about making that risotto. Joyously fricken happy. I was so suddenly happy that I noticed it. It was almost alarming. And I remembered, oh, PMS must be over. Ta da! Time for show tunes! And risotto!

And allegedly, I’m less crazy than most other women.


  1. Peter keeps telling me that he’s crazy, but so far, he’s way more stable than any other boyfriend I’ve ever had. Which, I’m thinking, might mean that I’m just that much more crazy than he. Hrm…
    And I hear you on the sneakup PMS. Bastard has some ninja tabi on, is silent, and could be deadly.

  2. CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! Who doesn’t have issues?!
    Try Estroven PMS (avail @ amazon or…the only thing that works for me.

  3. Me three on the stealthy settings of PMS. And me too on the, I’m crazy. And no way would I get rid of Disco Duck.

  4. I’d still find you charming if you were crazy (but I just need to say Hallelujah!)

  5. My 9yr old is my baby and only boy. The other day I was snarking about him leaving in toys or the stairs. He mumbles under his breath…”geez mom, is it that time of the month or something?” I heard it and for a split second I thought, Don’t you talk to your mother…..holy shit that was funny….ha hah! Mood swings, gotta love them!

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