Sometimes I hate being a woman.  This week has been one of those times.  I’m sure that my boyfriend and my children are very glad that I am, in fact, a bonafide female, but personally I am giving Mother Nature the BIRD.   If I didn’t know better – and THANK GOD I know better – I would think I was pregnant because of the way my hormones have been churning like the sea during a hurricane.  Unfortunately, for the past four days I have been morphed into something that is roughly four degrees past “crazy mom” and venturing right toward “maniacal whack job.”  Thankfully, only my children and sister (who are blood bound to love me regardless) and two close friends (who are, for all intents and purposes, blood bound as well) have had to be exposed to whatever has contaminated me.  None of the aforementioned individuals have exhibited any symptoms of infection, so disturbingly I guess… it’s just me. 

Oh well.

With all of the duties, responsibilities and pressures on mothers, why, oh why, must we be subject to this curse of being emotional women?  I’m not talking about PMS either.  PMS is simply adding insult to injury.  And on the subject of PMS… if you are not a woman, here’s a word to the wise: keep your mouth shut.  Men without a medical degree are not allowed to diagnose, offer to treat, or even insinuate PMS when a wife/girlfriend’s opinion, mood, or state of mind differs from that of your own.  Don’t cast stones at her girl-parts or you might end up being justifiably prohibited from using them.

Whoa… back to the subject…

Women are complex creatures. 

We are strong and weak.  We are compassionate and firm.  We are sensitive and unyielding.  We are loving and defensive.   

Sometimes it can be a little overwhelming.

To all of you who have impacted my life this rough week.  Thank you for listening.  Thank you for not thinking I’m crazy.  Thank you for worrying when I didn’t answer your call.  Thank you for being honest. Thank you for not leaving peanut butter fingerprints on the suede couch.  Thank you for giving me space.  Thank you, God, for Colin Farrell. Thank you for suggesting books that make me giggle.  Thank you for always being an inspiration.  Thank you for making me laugh.  Thank you for eating your broccoli without making me yell.  Thank you for being the man that I love and for never accusing my girl-parts of any wrongdoing.