I enjoy being a girl

There's a song running through my head: "I enjoy being a girl." There are times when that sentiment has been so accurate in my life. I loved being excused from roof snow shoveling duty to enjoy hot chocolate earlier than my brothers. I liked having girlie sleep overs where everyone got a make over and we'd discuss things that boys knew absolutely nothing about. There are times when it is luscious to be a woman. Then there is today.

I know, I know, it's terribly cliche to say that a certain time of the month rolls around and I'm in agony but there it is. I have a little boy that I watch every day. He is here today. Lulu is once again refusing to clean her room. I have to go to a playgroup thing this morning which, when I accepted the invitation, I was excited about but now it has grown to so many moms and children that I am afraid to go and would much rather spend time in my closet (which is only about 2'x4') with the door shut. Following that, I have a parent club meeting at my boys' elementary school where I have been appointed (not voted, elected or wanting to be but appointed) Secretary. So now I have to care enough and pay enough attention to keep decipherable minutes. When that's over, the boys will be out of school and it will be time for chores, homework, etc. Then it's off to Cub Scouts where I get to spend time with 8 energetic (read: run like wild dogs around and around screaming and yelling and refusing to sit still thinking that it is a game to see how quickly they can wear out their adult leaders) boys. I then return home with Rhys and drop him off (my neighbor will be watching all three kids) and dash off to a "Knitting for Peace" meeting, which seemed and still seems like fun, but not today. All this, and today I am gifted with the ultimate proof that I am a woman fully growed.

Today, the only thing that sounds truly delectable is dark chocolate, a good, unquestionably-brain-candy-with-little-redeeming-value novel and clean, warm flannel sheets in my bed. Bliss. Calgon take me away. A hot tub could be good too. But playgroups, and knitting, and scouts, and dragging two four year olds to Walmart, and Parent Club (which has grown so large that I am beginning to understand why Congress never gets anything done) do not!

Today, I wish I were a man. I could write my name in the snow, be a grouch when my hormones were crazy but never hear the words, "Oh he's just PMSing," which is really code for "He's just being a witch but we're supposed to excuse it today because of his hormones." Nope, men can be grouchy and cranky and they are merely assertive. If I were a man, I wouldn't be in Parent Club. My husband asked me, "Why are you going to this meeting?" Clearly demonstrating that he had no interest in such groups and couldn't see any value in spending his time there. If I were a man, I wouldn't have been invited to this all woman play group. Most notably, if I were man, there would be no gift from the gods arriving every month like clockwork. There would be no cramps, no irritability, no immense fatigue, no wanting to cry at every little thing, no feeling like your head is going to explode, no wanting to rip out your innards. . . .

So today, instead of venting at my kids, I am venting into the great unknown, sounding my barbaric yawp at the reality of "Eve's curse." There's nothing I can do but that and take hope in knowing that tomorrow, things will be better and in a week, life will have moved on and I will, most likely, really enjoy being a girl.