The Shark Week Double Tap

This is definitely a TMI post. If you are a man, run away now. I’m seriously tempted to get pregnant JUST to stop the craziness that is the moody spectacular of what I’ve come to call Shark Week. I think I’ve driven my husband just crazy enough to agree to it. Desperate times, desperate measures my friends.

The Shark Week Double Tap is when you are so deep in the throes of Mommy brain, you’re sick with a wicked sinus infection, the kids are screaming, dinner is burning, it’s Black Friday, you have people visiting, and aside from your whole world being upside down and inside out… you are hemorrhaging at just the thought of walking across the room.

You are so exhausted, overwhelmed and confused that you go to change your tampon and when you should have pulled you accidentally pushed another one in–to infinity and beyond.

The kids are screaming, your husband is waiting in the car for you to head out to pick up dinner to replace what you just burnt and your mother is talking at you through the bathroom door; this is when it happens. You won’t even be aware of it for a few minutes.

Who knows, maybe that first little guy got turned around and you lost the string and that’s why you completely forgot to pull the cord before you launched another cotton rocket into the outer space of your pelvis. At this point you may be wondering, how the hell is this even possible? What can I say, I’ve given birth a couple times and I’m pretty sure a small hobo could find shelter in my vagina and I might not even notice because I’m just so busy.

Thank God this faux pas is not fatal–unless you count the double dose of toxic shock syndrome. It’s uncomfortable, and a great reminder that I should have just taken the time to locate my damn Diva cup (that bitch isn’t moving once it’s locked and loaded), but the worst part is that I usually (um, it’s happened more than once) don’t realize what has happened until I am out in public, away from a toilet and walking like I’m in my third trimester and about to give birth to a pair of cotton-topped twins at any moment.

What’s the worst side effect of your, er, “Shark Week”? Don’t be afraid to share, misery enjoys company.

 

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About Deborah Cruz

You can read loads more from Deborah (@TruthfulMommy) at her blog The TRUTH about Motherhood and as a contributing writer at Smart Mom Style and the Stir.

Deborah spends her days drinking coffee in suburbia, shuttling little ones and planning social media world domination and occasionally, she sleeps.

She's at Facebook, Twitter, Google + and Pinterest too!

Being brutally honest and irreverent all over the internet since 2009.

Comments

  1. IzzyMom says:

    Shark Week starts with me feeling like someone has drained all the blood from my body and yet I somehow remain animated…probably through some Angelheart-style black magicky voodoo zombie spell because HOW ELSE can the dead be walking?

    I am SO tired and SO braindead and SO completely physically and mentally incapable of anything besides dozing (save for occasionally barking at my kids from my horizontal command center on the sofa).

    Then the bloodbath and zitfest begins… Lather, rinse and repeat every 26 days.

    Good times, indeed.

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  2. Andrea says:

    The worst side effect is the confusion. Each month I feel super cranky-pants murderous. Just before checking myself into the State Hospital for sudden onset of psychosis, I get my period. Then I think, “Huh. So that’s what’s up. Carry on.” Every. Month.

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  3. Kristin says:

    The cramping and backache are just about enough to do me in. I could spend the entire day (sometimes two!) in bed with the heating pad, switching it between lower back and lower abdomen. But since staying in bed is not an option most months, for years I’ve been taking the only med that worked for it — it’s acetaminophen with a diuretic. But for the past couple of years, the first couple of days of my cycle have left me so incredibly exhausted. I’d been thinking, “I guess I’m in perimenopause and wow does it suck.” I’ve also thought, “How STUPID is it that now — when my cycle is completely useless to me because I’ve had my tubes tied and absolutely do not want to be pregnant ever again — my cycle damn near kills me every month?” Finally last month I Googled the drug name and fatigue or exhaustion or something. Do you know what came up? The active ingredients list of the drug. And I discovered that when they changed the packaging awhile back, they also changed the active ingredients. It’s now acetaminophen with two diuretics, one of which is an anti-histamine. And since I am one of the world’s biggest anti-histamine wusses (soooooo drrrrrooooooooowwwwwwwwsssssssyyyyyyyyy), mystery solved.

    What kind of jackass puts a sleeping pill in an anti-menstrual syndrome drug, when one of the symptoms of the condition is fatigue?

  4. Worse side effect? Well, as I am in the throes of Perimenopause at 39 years young (WHAT THE HELL) It’s either bleed like a stuck pig or take a pregnancy test because I didn’t bleed that month. SERIOUSLY. EITHER STOP OR DON’T. But this back and forth shit? UGH

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