I hope it helps (I'm sure DH does, too)

This last week I've been working like crazy to get a big deliverable done by yesterday afternoon. I was working on the weekend, 10+ hour days Monday and Tuesday, barely taking time for lunch, but I did it! I did it without flipping off my boss or yelling - that's a pretty good accomplishment right there - or anything. Which I really wanted to do once or twice when he kept going on and on about something I'd already said wasn't finished. Arrrrrghghghg!!

(Any guys reading this might want to wander away now because I'm going to talk about 'female stuff' now.)

Yep, I got my project done even while I was wanting to tell most everyone to eff off and leave me the eff alone for a minute, because the Prehistoric Monster Syndrome was rearing it's flaming, roaring head. You know when the sound of someone's breathing annoys you? Yeah, that's what I was dealing with. Just for kicks, the hormones would also randomly make the bottom drop out from under me. Literally, walking from the bedroom to our kitchen and suddenly I would just feel too depressed to breathe. Not that I do that anyway. [Score extra geek points if you know what I'm referring to! Or just follow the link...]

Sure, those feelings could just be from the stress of being under a microscope and wondering if I was going to get written up or fired for poor job performance, but, three things make me think this has been PMS a week "early" this month.
1.) Last month, it was a week early, so it could actually be time for it.
2.) I had the feeling this week of being in a brain fog and having to struggle with focus.
3.) Today, like a switch, I'm much clearer.

Anyway, I saw my Doc today. He said that he wouldn't think perimenopause, but he diagnosed PMDD. That's right. No pansy-ass regular Prehistoric Monster Syndrome for me. My hormones have decided to regularly firebomb the hell out of my inner balance. Making just about every encounter that particular week of the month a running internal dialogue of irritation about the stupidity of everything.

P.M.D.D. -- Psychotic Mood from Dealing with iDiots. Whadya think?

No matter what the label is -- The treatment goal is the same. Get those damned hormones under control!

The Doc gave me a sample of one of the brands of continuous birth control pills, the kind where you only get 4 periods a year. Yee-hah!

Stop me if you've heard this one before.

Today's words are "Premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD)" and "perimenopause". Can you say "PMDD" and "suck it up, you're a hormonal mess"? I knew you could. I've complained on here before about my worsening PMS symptoms. The symptoms that have been severe enough to affect my work at my job. Last week and this week, I had two terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days at work. I was given two 'shape-up' talks by management -- about my number of sick days, about my lack of focus, etc, etc. I started crying in the meeting with my direct supervisor. Gads, I hate that. It's embarrassing and makes me angry. At least my supervisor said that the situation wasn't unsalvagable. I have a chance to turn it around.

After that rude wake-up call/slap in the face, I started thinking about my symptoms, google'ing, and looking at the calendar. "In PMDD, mood symptoms are more severe and often overshadow physical symptoms. The emotional disturbances are significant enough to cause problems with daily life." [emphasis mine] and "Emotional symptoms include feelings of sadness, hopelessness, anxiety, irritability and sensitivity, anger, being overwhelmed, and the need to withdraw from others."

I had recently told a friend that the emotional symptoms are very marked right before my period, then they go away. It's like a switch -- I wake up one morning, after days and days of looking at things through a haze of irritation, and the haze is gone. I know that my period will start later that same day.

While reading about PMDD, I came across references to worsening PMS or PMDD being associated with perimenopause. 'What is that' you may ask? It's the 10-15 years before menopause. Based on my mom's history, I had figured out that I would likely start perimenopause in my late 30's. I'm soon to be 37. Let's take a look at the symptoms of perimenopase, shall we?

» Hot flashes - check, night sweats
» Sleep disorders such as insomnia, difficulty falling asleep, waking up frequently, or restless sleep, leading to fatigue - check
» Mood swings, irritability, depression, anxiety, or nervousness - check
» Decreased libido
» Menstrual cycle changes, including heavier periods, uterine fibroids, spotting between periods, or skipped cycles, as well as worsening PMS (premenstrual syndrome) or PMDD (premenstrual dysphoric disorder) - check
» Fuzzy thinking, decreased or impaired memory and attention - check
» Increased food cravings, stubborn weight gain, insulin resistance, and difficulty controlling blood sugar
» Digestive problems, such as irritable bowel, bloating, or » acid reflux
» Heart arrhythmia, chest pain, palpitations
» Joint and muscle symptoms, including inflammation, stiffness or pain
» Dizziness, decreased balance,
» headaches or menstrual migraines - check

Well, shiiii-at. I may not be crazy after all. Well, that is to say, the hormones may be what are making me crazy. One website mentioned that the symptoms of fuzzy thinking and inability to multitask can be significant. I've just found out recently that I've missed some important details in meetings due to my brain fog. Those meetings? Yeah, they were in prime PMS time. Dude, I'm smart; I have advanced degrees. But these hormone shifts are kicking my mental butt. I've joked with DH about my 'hot flashes', but I just figured that they were just from the hormones of still breastfeeding (like feeling hot during pregnancy). Maybe they really have been bona-fide hot flashes.

Now I just need to get with my Doc and figure out how to get my hormones on an even keel. Any lurkers who have some experience or advice?

Short takes

His told his first 'Knock, Knock' joke last week --

Little Bit: Knock, knock!
DH and me: Who's there?
Little Bit: Me!! *laugh*

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On the car ride home from dinner, after a discussion between DH and I of the fact that there weren't any napkins in his car to wipe the chocolate off Little Bit's fingers...

Little Bit: I need go store!
Me: What do you need at the store?
Little Bit: Na'kins!

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Little Bit had a throw-down tantrum after we got home because he didn't get to close the door all by himself. (Ah, the fun of living with a toddler.) He was mad at his Daddy for not letting him. Little Bit insisted that I take his shoes off, not Daddy. He insisted that I turn on the tv for him, not Daddy.

He snuggled up to me and said, "Mommy my friend. You no my friend, Daddy."

Later, I gave Little Bit some "stars"/cereal puffs. He ate them all while I was in the other room.

"More stars, Daddy."

"Well, if I'm not your friend, I don't know if I should give you more stars..."

Little Bit said, "I wuv my friends. You my friend, Daddy."

DH gave him more stars. As Little Bit ate, DH said, "I love you, son. You're my friend."

Little Bit said, "You no my friend. I wuv Mommy!"

What a clever little stinker!

I Feel Pretty, Oh, So Pretty

Like the new look? It's purrdy. The new colors make me smile. That's a good thing. So is PMSBuddy. (You're welcome, DH.) I was actually thinking of setting up an MS Outlook reminder in my calendar to email DH every month. If I can't even remember it, he shouldn't be expected to either. I'll be grumping around and feeling like I want to tell everyone to just leave me the F- alone. I feel like a three year old -- I don' wanna go work. I don' wanna do chores. {stomps feet} I'll look at the calendar, count back the weeks, and the light dawns. Hormone-Roller-Coaster-R-Us. Welcome to the funhouse.

It's usually a good thing if Little Bit is not riding in the car with me while the Prehistoric Monster rages.

"Goddammit! That motherfucker cut me off. Bitch! MuhTHER FucKER!!!" Etc. etc. His daycare teachers might raise their eyebrows about the new vocabulary he was using.

Seriously? I would like to dispute whatever assrabbit signed me back up for this. It's just been getting worse and worse since my monthly cycle started back almost a year ago, after several years of blissful pregnancy- and lactational-induced reprieve.

PMS sucks. I need better hormones or drugs or something.
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I picked Little Bit up from daycare yesterday. At a stoplight, I read the notes on his daily report.

"So, you hit and pushed your friends today at school?" I asked him.

He said, "Yeah. I hit Becky. I wanted blocks...green block."

Well, he did tell the truth. He's about three months away from being 3 years old, and it still amazes me how you can have a conversation with Little Bit now. Sure, we're not discussing meta-narratives in his Elmo books. We should start with "Go, Dog. Go!" I think.

Even with his tempermental streak, apparently Little Bit is rocking the 2's room. One of the other moms reported that all her little girl talks about outside of school is Little Bit. The mom thinks it's cute. The dad does not; it brings out his 'threatening the 17-year old date of your sweet, innocent 16-year old daughter' side.

A Morning in the Life

Every night before bed I think, "Tomorrow I will get up early. It'll be great! I won't have to rush to get ready, and I'll get to work early." The reality is that I'm just not a morning person. I love my sleep. Alarm clocks are not my friend. So, I wake up late, realizing that I forgot to turn on the evil alarm clock. I set Little Bit up in front of tv watching his favorite cartoons. I hurry through a shower, then find some khakis and one of my go-to tops to throw on. On the days when DH can take Little Bit to daycare, I don't end up quite so late to work, but I'm still late. The flextime excuse can only take you so far. When I have drop off Little Bit, there's an extra 30-45 minutes tacked onto my morning routine. First, I have to bargain with Little Bit to change his diaper. "If you want to keep watching cartoons, then we need to change your diaper." Next, I suggest a shirt for the day. If he insists on wearing his pajama shirt to daycare, oh, well. He's only two and a half. Try to find some clean pants for him. Are they in the dryer? Darn, forgot to run that load last night. OK, yesterday's jeans aren't too bad. Dust them off and wrestle them onto the boy. If Little Bit protests turning off the tv in order to leave, I offer him a job to do. He's still in that 'wants to help' stage, so I milk it for all it's worth encourage him. Would you like to feed the kitty cats? Or, would you like to carry my coffee cup? (Don't worry...it's empty. I tank up with coffee at the bagel shop on my way to work.) I drop Little Bit off at daycare. All the little girls (and the few boys) in his class crowd around him when we come into the room. He's already very popular (lord, help me when he's a teenager). They want to see what he's brought with him (sometimes he insists on bringing a stuffed animal). The classroom teacher asks if he's had any breakfast yet. The answer is usually no. I can feel the stink-eye she is giving me, while she's thinking, "You're bringing that boy in here this late and he *still* hasn't had breakfast?" Mommy FAIL. They now know to either save back a breakfast for him or plan to get him some cereal when he arrives. Oh, yeah, sometimes his hair doesn't even get combed before he gets dropped off. He *hates* to have his hair combed; it's not always a battle I want to fight. So, the cowlick sticking up in the back just adds to the overall pajama top, slightly dirty jeans look. He's going for a grunge vibe. Yeah, that's it. After a stop for bagel and coffee to go, I slink into work, hoping that it hasn't been noticed that I'm late. It is noticed on the mornings I slink into our weekly staff meeting after it's started. The topic -- how it's now expected for us to be in at 8am. No more lenient flextime. Awesome.