I was in quite the bitchy mood yesterday.

Captain Jelly Belly came to wake me up at six-oh-oh. He’s always been an early riser, but since the time change he hasn’t arrived in our room until at least 6:30, so right away I was grumpy at the wakeup call. I could tell it was going to be that kind of day.

I stomped around the kitchen all morning, until finally said, “Hey, what’s up with you?” And I said, “NOTHING DO YOU WANT TO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT IT????” And he said, “Um, nooooo…” and took the kids to a safe area of the house.

After lunch I was tidying up some of the birthday-related treats and there was a whole box of Smarties and I ate them all. Much as I love chocolate, that’s pretty unusual for me. Later that afternoon, I made the Captain cry when I snapped at him to go away, when all he wanted was to show me the new Mario Kart remote controlled car he got from the Walmart (which he thinks is a present for his cousin, but is actually for him on behalf of his grandmother, and he’ll be getting it as a gift when we are in Toronto, surprise!).

Then, after dinner, I got hit with a massive headache, and I was all like, “What the hell?”

Then I had an epiphany. I HAVE PMS. The beast, she has returned. I am once again slave to my monthly cycle.

Really, the three new pimples I have on my cheek should have been a dead giveaway, but it’s been a while so my mind just wasn’t going there.

Once the kids were in bed I gave up any pretense of trying to fight the PMS and ate half a big bag of chips and some Oreo cookies, washed down with a big mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows. That allowed me to have a halfway respectable conversation with before bed.

This morning I’ve been trying to be better, now that I know the cause of the bitchiness, but I’ve already made Gal Smiley cry by snapping “NOT NOW” at her when she tried to ask for a cup of milk. Menopause really can’t come soon enough. Although, I suppose menopause means a whole year or two of this sort of craziness, so maybe it’s best if we put that off until the kids are old enough to move with their father to Australia. They can come back when I’m sane again.

It doesn’t help that I have extra stress today because my uncle, who I haven’t seen in about two years, is coming for dinner. I had this conversation with the kids about that:

Me: Some people are coming for dinner tonight. You’ve met them before, but you were really young so you probably don’t remember.

Captain: What are their names?

Me: There’s a man, you will call him Uncle Mark. His wife’s name is Mary.

Gal: Like the song! Mary Had A Little Lamb!

Me: Yes, that’s right. And they are bringing their boy with them, he is older than you, I think he is 12. His name is Wolfe.

Captain and Gal, excitedly in unison: Just like on American Gladiators!

I’m sure that this little factoid is what they are going to open with as soon as they meet Wolfe. Sigh. Time to self-medicate.

Where the hell are those chips?