I hate PMS . . . if I could skip through this monthly phenomenon, I am sure my life would be much happier - if not a bit less entertaining.
I am always amazed at how quickly my moods can change . . . one minute I'm over the moon in love with my children, the next wishing I could lock them outside as they sing the "Winnie the Pooh" song over and over and over. I gather them up in my arms to give them a great big hug, then cringe because I don't want to be touched. Yes, PMS is a tricky b*^@#!
But the most disturbing part? I'm a 'cryer' at the best of times. Normally those around me are embarrassed by this. Today even I was embarrassed by myself as the tears started to flow freely this morning. Why was I sobbing so? I was watching the video of Psy performing "Gangnam Style" last night at the AMA's. The song didn't make me cry. His horrid pants didn't make me cry (although I am incredibly disturbed by the resurgence of 'Harem Pants'). No, I held it together for all that. But throw M.C. Hammer into the mix and I'm bawling like a freaking baby. Too legit, too legit to quit. I'm tearing up just thinking about it. What.The.Heck?
Sniff sniff . . . Momma needs some chocolate . . .
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