Disclaimer: I have no idea where this post is headed, but I’ll try to get there fast. Call it a quickie. I do know that it’ll get funny at the end, but only because I’ve invited a couple of people to help. (Don’t act all shocked. It’s not that kind of blog. Geez.)
Maybe this mood has something to do with the moon, though my moon phase calendar tells me it’s only 96% full. I have all the usual symptoms on the full moon checklist. A little crazy. Check. Listless. Check. Bloated. Check. (Wait, that has nothing to do with the moon, does it?)
But if I can’t blame this mood on a full moon, can I give the mostly-full moon some credit? Please?
I’m not one to wallow around in a mess of feelings, and certainly not one to talk much about how I’m feeling (though I may write about it later). There are men who are as capable of those conversations as women, so I won’t assign a gender to that particular quality. But I will go ahead and say I’m not that girl. I’d rather get over something and move on, without deep analysis, or even half-assed analysis. So maybe I’m that guy.
I prefer things to blow over. Say the apologies, say the sweet things and make the jokes that bridge the abyss and let everyone meet in the middle. I’m willing to ride out a thunderstorm, but if I have to put up with days or weeks or years of emotional rain, you’ll find me on the edge of my seat, jumping out of my skin. I’m a tear-off-the-Band-aid kinda girl.
Everything is getting to me this week. Yes, it might be PMS, in case you’re thinking that. Maybe it’s the moon, after all. Or maybe it’s that I ran out of these. I’m addicted. (Plus, their name cracks me up. I have a hard time asking for them at Cracker Barrel with a straight face. I’m what, twelve?)
But I’m an easy mark for a laugh, though, so instead of setting up a lawn chair in the middle of this moodswamp, I’ve been looking for a way out of it. (Sidenote: I was impressed with myself for making up the word moodswamp, until I googled it to be sure and found out–as I should have expected–that I’m not the first to use it. I only got six hits off of it, though. It’s a good word, right?)
Anyway, wading out of the swamp…You’ll thank me for pointing out these Exit signs:
And if you don’t already read Is There Any Mommy Out There?, you’re missing out. Stacey is funny as hell, and smart and insightful. She makes me laugh my ass off one day, and breaks my heart the next. And it’s all so worth it. Start with this post, and make sure to read the ones she links to in it. I might have woken up some neighbors, laughing. You might want to run to the bathroom first. (Oh, you’ll thank me.)
Edited: Last week, Mrs. Schmitty from It’s a Schmitty Life asked me if I would write a guest post for the blog of one of her readers who was going to be away on vacation with his family. His name is Jake, and he writes at Tales of a Dysfunctional Family. I decided that if Mrs. Schmitty was game to write a guest post, then I could pretend to be a cool, hip grown-up and write for the blog of a teenager. (Intimidating. Though he made it very easy.)
So I sent him something and he didn’t didn’t laugh in my face. Does this mean I’m a cool, hip grown-up? Yeah, probably not. Still, I hope you’ll stop over to check out my post and say hi to Jake while you’re there.