Friday, January 16, 2009

In Sync

No this isn’t a post about a washed up boy band but rather a post about how The Girl and I have finally, finally gotten our cycles running in synchronization; sparing Hugh the agony of two weeks of what is apparently torture to his poor psyche and replacing it with just one Really Bad week.

If you are reading this and you happen to be male or, say, my father, your brain has probably just entered the demilitarized zone; and you are no doubt struggling to replace the image of girlie cyclical stuff with some other image, any other image pleasefortheloveofgod and, I totally give you permission to think of a washed up boy band if you must.

You’re welcome.

If, on the other hand, you are a female-say, a mother of an adolescent girl-right now you are probably thinking that I must be quite relieved at this turn of events and you would be right. And, not to brag but; The Girl’s cycle adjusted to fit mine rather than the other way around so; my hormones win. Yay!

Or, whatever.

All I know is that this is the first month in a looong while that I haven’t experienced some weird stuff going on in Hoo-Haville and, for that; I am grateful.

The Girl, it should be noted, is not exactly thrilled with this turn of events since, as I said, her cycle adjusted to fit mine but, you know what? She’ll get over it. I’ve been doing this a hell of a lot longer than she has so, I claim seniority.

Now, let’s put a period to this subject and move on (you see how I just did that, there? Period?, Ha! I slay me!).

The children and I are leaving for Denver today. The weather appears to be cooperating, I’m all caught up at the store, the car is repaired, serviced, washed and ready to go and both kids managed to pack their own suitcases before leaving for school for a couple of hours this morning. Things are going almost too smoothly but, rather than getting paranoid and borrowing trouble; I am going to assume that the universe, in its infinite wisdom, has decided to work in synchronization with my menstrual cycle.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Period.

(Once again, ha! I slay myself)

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