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I promise you, I didn’t eat my children this weekend.

But I was thinking of it. Not because they could be delicious, but because I felt like a honey badger and wanted to tear apart everything that was driving me nuts this weekend.

I was PMSing. (Ew, Ew, Ew) James is going ‘la la la la, I can’t hear you’. I mean, that had to be it. Otherwise, I was just a BITCH.

I had my first migraine in a loooong time. I usually don’t get them now that I go to acupuncture. It’s like magic that I don’t have them anymore. I even had a treatment on Friday. And I still got a migraine. Holy shitballs, it wasn’t fun.

I had a holiday party on Friday night to attend. Totally fun. Love hanging out with my girls. I got to dress up cute, wear Spanx and heels and feel all girly girl. So it was good. Then Saturday morning woke up feeling not so great.

Things I observe when my left eye has what feels like a knife stuck in it (that’s how a migraine feels, for those that don’t know):

  • The spy gear that my son has that sets off an alarm whenever someone enters his room sounds like an air raid. Horrible. Awful toy. This will be going in the donation box by accident for sure.
  • Everything my poor husband did drove me to drink. We bicker in the car. But when I feel like I did- we don’t just bicker, I rip his eyes out. Okay, I just tell him every turn he’s made is wrong. But in his book, I might as well rip out his eyeballs. Or stick pokers in his ears, then he wouldn’t have to hear me.
  • The cat litter is out to get me.
  • The laundry procreates like rabbits in spring.
  • My pants don’t fit. Even with Spanx.
  • Words with Friends starts to feel like it’s out to get me.
  • 30 kids at a birthday party with a pinata is like watching one of the Kardashians get a bikini wax. It’s loud, irritating and not a pretty sight.

But it’s Sunday night and I’m coming out of my tunnel.

Other than the lady on TV during the football game saying the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders are world class performers, I’m all good. Nothing can bother me. (Knock on wood.) The kinks are worked out. My head is back to normal. The children are alive and well (I didn’t eat them, or even merely nibble on them). The husband hasn’t taken away my lipstick allowance, so that must mean he still loves me.

I’m ready for Monday.

God help me.