Shark week is not my favorite week of the month. Shark week (menstruating and PMS, in case you were confused) is just one more thing that I have to deal with on my already full Mommy plate. Shark week is that one week of the month when my entire body rages against me and decides to attempt yet another mutiny. Ain’t no mutiny like a shark week mutiny! Damn you, shark week!
Kids, this is your mom before shark week.
But then something happens. My head begins to spin. My breasts ache. I am ravenous to eat things like hot fudge sundaes with jalapeno chips at will. My ovaries feel as if a tiny angry troll is squeezing them. I’m bloated like a dead fish (no correlation to the smell, I smell like a summer’s day, damn it!) and as if by some cruel joke, it’s the one week of the entire month that my husband finds me completely sexually irresistible (well, that and ovulation week. Conspiracy, I tell you!).
My ovaries feel as if a tiny angry troll is squeezing them. I’m bloated like a dead fish (no correlation to the smell, I smell like a summer’s day, damn it!) and as if by some cruel joke, it’s the one week of the entire month that my husband finds me completely sexually irresistible (well, that and ovulation week. Conspiracy, I tell you!). New baby? Who dis? Ain’t nobody got no time for that.
Unfortunately for him, I am like a hybrid between a Praying Mantis and Black Widow spider. All I want to do is rip his head off and eat my young, not necessarily in that order. Pretty much, if you breathe you are in danger of incurring my bloody, hormonal rage and for some reason, I swear my teeth get bigger.
This is Your Mom on Shark Week
For your safety, I am listing here a few ways to survive Shark Week without Losing a limb;
- No sudden movements or loud sounds, Mama usually has a migraine during shark week. Move slowly and quietly for optimal chance of survival rate.
- For the love of God, please don’t hide my Diva Cup or flush all the tampons. I’m talking to you fruit of my loins, this could result in Mommy’s head spinning and/or completely popping off.
- Have chocolate and carbs in the house. A pizza with a side of French fries and a Ding Dong usually does the trick. And NO, don’t remind me that I’m on a diet. There is no reasoning with me when I am on shark week.
- Don’t ask me any stupid questions, like where is the milk? It’s in the fridge! Do you want to die? And please pick up your f*cking socks! I’m not your maid. Would you like me to shove them down your throat? ( This is directed at the Big Guy, not the children. I pick up their socks, with no threat of choking them out, on the regular.)
- Don’t look at me sideways, it will surely not bode well for you. I know you will be tempted to test this theory, but just be aware that during shark week, better men have died for less.
- Don’t comment on how tight my jeans are or the extra head-sized pimple that has sprouted on my forehead. I can see it. I’m menstruating, not blind and I am hyper aware of every single flaw this week.
- Don’t expect me to try on clothes, especially a bathing suit for a vacation. Don’t even ask. You will be wasting your time and is your life worth it?
Shark Week, is that eye roll worth dying over?
- Don’t take my measurements for any reason under the sun. Seriously, Mr. Personal Trainer, I know you are a man and don’t understand but I don’t need to know how many inches the water retention is adding to my body. My jeans are cutting me in half; believe me, I’m already aware.
- Don’t be my Mother or Mother-in-law, anything you do while I am on shark week will leave me exasperated and annoyed, usually taken as passive aggression and held against you for the week. I would recommend marking your calendars and not calling me or making eye contact at all that week.This is more for your benefit than my sanity. I promise.
- Don’t ask me to step on the scale, this is pretty much any day of the month but it could have dire consequences for you during this week.
- Don’t raise your voice at me, not even moderately. You can try it. But I’m pretty sure that I will have snatched the snark right out of your mouth before you get to the second word. But, hey, it’s your life.
- Don’t touch my boobs or ask for any kind of “service” for you. I’m dying over here. Why should you be having a good time?
- Which reminds me, little one, please don’t ask Mommy for a baby brother on this week. It truly is the furthest thing from my mind. Birth is pain and I’m in enough right now with the troll squishing my ovaries, my sore boobs and cramps. Ask me in a couple weeks, when the water weight is gone and I‘m feeling frisky (this tends to happen during ovulation week. See, conspiracy I tell you!)
- And under no circumstances, ever ask me if I’ve got PMS? Just observe and know it, that’s enough to save your life. I don’t need your commentary. I know I’m on shark week. I don’t need to know that you know and think I’m being a hormonal bitch I already know that.
- Your best bet for surviving Shark week is to stay still, be quiet and hope that I don’t see you. In 3-5 days I will be back to my sweet self but for the next few days, stay out of the water.
What is your best tip for surviving shark week in your home? Has anyone ever been seriously maimed during that week? What was there crime? Can’t wait to hear your stories in the comments, Misery enjoys company…especially this week. Oh and for an extra dose of The TRUTH I am guest posting at Blogging Dangerously Where sex in the city meets married with children today. If you are not already familiar with Blogging Dangerously, go now and check it out. Kit is an amazingly funny and quick witted writer and I’m sure that you will love her as much as I do. Also, she is the creator of #wineparty on Twitter every Friday night. What’s not to love?
*Disclaimer; I did not coin the term Shark Week.I can’t remember who the brilliant soul on Twitter was who did, but I have made it my own. That week of the month will forever be known as Shark week in my household. When my daughters begin menstruating, I will pass it down. Shark week is now my legacy:)
P.S. No husbands, children, Mothers or Mother-in -laws were harmed in the making of this Shark week post.
Happy Shark Week, Hope we all make it out alive
50 comments
Heheh.
You funny woman.
I am going to start using that all the time now, “shark week.”
It’s perfect right???LOL!
Oh I so know what you mean. Ever since I had my tubes tied, shark week has become a deathly time of the month, that many avoid. The Hubby has grown to be very understanding over the past few years and always seems to be very compassionate, on day one when I am at my worst. But come day 3 he starts with the “Just cause you’re broken doesn’t mean I have to be” BS that then makes me want to chomp his face off and have to never hear such idiotic lines again.
I hate shark week. The week before is just as dreadful for me. I know it’s coming when I start to get real on edge, sore and just down right bitchy. The Hubby always jokes he gets 2 weeks of nice me and 2 weeks of nasty me a month. I would trade him any day to no longer deal with shark week and have to just deal with blue balls and the occasional sack by running child at full speed (encouraged by other small being of course)
This is my shark week as well, thankfully school is in full swing, so I can sit in silence all day without ripping apart the existence of little beings, and the Hubby sits silently awaiting my attempt to associate with him without ripping his face off!
Good luck mama! I hate the rage and annoyance that accompanies shark week. I pretty much want to kick anyone who breathes in my general direction:) Here’s hoping it passes quickly and without incident:)LOL
HA! I’ve never heard it called that. I can totally relate. And mine seems to take up about two weeks, when all is said and done…
How are you, Mama?? I feel like I haven’t “talked” to you all summer.
Love ya!!
So true! Why is it that men get so randy when we are obviously out of commission??? So funny.
I wish I knew. But it is liable to get him punched in the junk if he tries to sidle up to me tonight! Unless he’s hiding a pizza in his pants and dipped in chocolate, I want nothing to do with him tonight:)LOL
ha. hahahahaha.
I love this. I want to know how in the world my husband can not tell by the extra trash and tampon wrappers in the garbage can that it’s “shark week” (my new favorite phrase, by the way) and leave me the hell alone at night instead of pawing me when I’m trying to go to sleep. It’s not happening, my love, move on….
LOL! How appropriate as I sit here reading this in the waiting room at the doctor. Hilarious. I’m gonna start calling you Miss Spider. Ha!
Along came a spider and sat down beside him and gobbled his head off his shoulders!Pick up those socks!!!!!!LOL
Hee! Too funny, so very true!
Hang in there Mama!
XO
Thanks dear. I hate that they are true.
LOL. I love this post. All so very very true.
LOL! I wish they were not all true. I swear that I get on my own nerves during shark week. i must be utterly impossible to be around. my poor husband.
I love this post. Okay, surviving shark week–depending on the week I either need something sweet or chewy. Lately it’s been prunes instead of chocolate (don’t ask–I don’t know WHAT my body is thinking).
I feel bad for my hubby during this time (of course not during it) and I end up snapping because I’ve cleaned the same damn spot for nearly two weeks and still he puts stuff there (breathe).
If I’m not moody, then I’m emotional. The best way for anyone to survive this week with me is to make sure I have enough money in gift cards for my nook and stay out of my way.
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LOVE IT! And it’s all true!!
My husband knows to bring wine and chocolate when I’m on shark week.
But like you, I don’t get why he finds me so damn attractive during this week. Doesn’t he want to keep his limbs??
I really think men are just crazy, thrill seekers and really what’s more dangerous than trying to mess with a woman on her shark week. One day my husband seriously is going to pull back a nub:)
Great post! And like you said in the comments, I get on my own nerves during this time. I try not to take it out on everyone, but you can’t stop it. This is my first visit to your blog, nice to “meet” you!
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Never ever ask me if I am PMS-ing because if I am, you will not survive.
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SO TRUE! Every. Single. Word! My favorite part was the “don’t be my Mother or Mother-in-Law” line. PREACH! We are two peas in one twisted homicidal pod. Long live #PMSClub!
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