It’s a sunny Friday morning and I wake up to the sound of birds chirping happy morning and pre-weekend greetings. I open my eyes as I lie in my bed not wanting to get up. Morning is usually an efficient time of the day for me. But not today. Today I feel more tired than usual. I lack my typical morning energy.
I finally peel myself out of bed longing for some hot coffee to help me wake up.
Once in the kitchen, I happily realize that my husband has already made coffee. For this I am grateful. But I can’t quite get the words out to tell him because my eyes are fixated on my favorite coffee mug that he is using.
“Is that my Four Friends Coffeehouse mug?” I ask him in a low tone. He has to look at it to check. “I guess. Why?” I continue to preach about my love for that mug and question why he would use it when we have so many other mugs. He just stares at me like I am a crazy person and leaves the room to get ready for work. It takes me a few minutes alone to realize that I just snapped at a person who I love for using a mug. Seriously, a mug. What is wrong with me?
After a brief apology, I offer to make him breakfast and his smile tells me that he has forgiven the craziness. But breakfast does not go as planned and the egg yolks break, dripping the gooey yellow center all over the perfectly browned whites. Next, I burn the toast. Defeated over my ruined peace offering, I decide to check on a project that I started the day before. But I soon find out, the Lego candies that I have been making for my son’s upcoming birthday party are not coming out perfectly. As I attempt to pop them out of the molds, they are losing the top detail pieces. With every missing digit on the candies, I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes. For some reason, I can’t see that eggs, toast and Lego candies are all trivial things.
By now, my head is pounding and I feel bloated and crampy. Ah….it is starting to make sense now. The crazy lady who gets mad and yells about a mug and cries over breakfast and candies, it’s not really me at all. Has it really been four weeks already? I make a frantic dash to the medicine container searching for Midol.
Is it just my imagination or are my PMS symptoms getting worse as I get older? I pour myself another cup of coffee as I wait for the medicine to take effect and make a mental note to myself to wash my Four Friends mug and put in the far back of the cupboard before tomorrow morning.