So, the IUD was supposed to make my Margaret lighter, but I'm here to tell you I'm having the worst Margaret I've had since the eight grade. As I walked across my backyard the other day my mother asked "what's on your skirt?" Sam, right on my heels as always, offered, "Is it a coffee stain?"
I twisted around to see what was going on back there to find it was most certainly not a coffee stain. It looked like I'd been shot. In the ass.
And today I burst into tears when Husband mocked my drawing of a broom on our brand new "House Rules" chart. In our ever evolving attempt to beat the Satan out of our daughter I decided to implement the Super Nanny rule chart using pictures to help Sam understand. First, Husband mocked my drawing of an ear (listen) and then my broom (clean up). I put my marker down, stood up, and said, "I can't do this anymore." Not sure if I meant the chart or life.....
Husband called to me, but I ran (o.k., shuffled) to the bedroom where I pulled the covers over my head and balled my eyes out. A few moments later I felt Husband sink onto the side of the bed. "Seriously, are you pregnant?" (because I'm crazy when I'm knocked up, extra crazy)
"No! I'm bleeding to death!" I said through heaving sobs.
"Hmm. Then why are you acting crazy?"
"You made fun of my..sob..sob..broom..sob.."
"I've just never seen a broom with such a short handle."
"It was a whisk broom!!"
"Are you sure you're not pregnant?"
"No....I told you...IUD....margaret...hemorrhaging..."
"Hmm. Well, maybe you need to have a medium of the road Margaret? You know, not too heavy, not too light? Maybe it's messing you up."
"Don't make fun of my rule chart."
"It's a whisk broom..."
Pretty sure the next step is writing my name in my own poop on the bathroom wall.