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PMS Pickles

By M Davies   /     Mar 19, 2017  /     Mommyhood  /     4 Comments

Parenting has been a challenge as of late with my daughter. It’s really hard coming to terms with having a pre-pubescent/pre-teen on my hands, and one with my attitude to boot. It’s like dealing with a shorter smarter-assed (is that a word?) version of myself. Allow me to lay these three short stories on you so that can see where I am coming from. And as you read, just imagine, from afar my mother is sitting back and smirking knowing that she’s finally gotten her revenge on me.


Story 1:

I had off from work on March 8th because I was managing an assembly at Owen’s school. My husband happened to travel to Allentown for work that day. Owen had stayed home sick from school because he was running a fever. I left the house for an hour to head to Ross. When I got back home, it was around dismissal time. Owen and I waited for Gabby, but she was late. We thought that maybe her bus had some trouble, but after a short while, I started to panic. I texted my husband and asked if he had signed any permission slips for her to go anywhere, or if he knew of any trips she may have been going on. He didn’t respond. I tried to call the school, but no one was answering. Then I called the transportation department at the school – no answer. At this point, I was ready to call out the FBI, National Guard, have helicopters swooping with search lights and an amber alert called. I tried to remain as calm as humanly possible which wasn’t going well. I flew over to the school and flagged down the first adult I could find in the building (which was essentially a ghost town except for some kind sports practice going on inside of the gym). I really don’t even remember what kind of sport was being practiced, that is how upset I was at the time. The coach somehow managed to determine that my daughter was one of the children who participated in the Science Olympiad which was being held at Penn State Wilkes-Barre. He then called the instructor that was over at the school with the kids and confirmed that Gabby was indeed there. My heart attack turned into rage. I drove over to PSU WB where I found my daughter sitting in the bleachers with the rest of her class.

I mean, what’s my angle here for this parenting disaster? Do I scream at her in front of her friends for making me have a damn near panic attack? Do I ground her for the rest of her life and turn her off from participating in any extra-curricular activities? Do I just hug her and be grateful she’s somewhere safe? How do I handle this?

And to make matters worse (for me, not her) she won a damn medal! I am proud of her, yet SEETHING with rage.

She came in 4th place for one of the activities they participated in – I believe it had something to do with a hoverboard or hovercraft.

And the little shit was on TV for a few seconds.

I had a discussion with her teacher after I managed to find her in the crowd. Gabby was supposed to bring home a paper giving us all of the details of what was happening the day of this event (what to wear, when to be picked up, how much money to bring for lunch, etc) but, she never brought it home to show us, so neither my husband or I had any idea it was going on. I was perfectly fine with her participating, it was just a shitty way of finding out. It would have been nice to actually see her at the awards ceremony! Fricking kid.


Story 2:

We were just recovering from the fallout of story number 1, when THIS happened: My daughter decided to crawl out of her window.  Let me set up the story for you first before I tell you WHY she decided to do this. The Friday after story number 1 happened, 3/10, we got 6″ of snow. School canceled classes and both kids were home for the day. I was off and my husband was working from home. Owen decided to hang out in the basement and play video games, Rich was also working in the basement, I was watching TV in the living room and Gabby was in her room most of the day drawing and playing on her tablet. At some point, she decided that she wanted to go outside and play in the snow….which is fine. Except, rather than going through the people sized hole in the house (otherwise known as a door), she decided she wanted to go through the cubby sized hole in the house (otherwise known as the window in her bedroom). I am not sure the logic of leading up to this decision. She told me that she didn’t think we’d allow her to go out and play, so she took it upon herself to crawl out of her window. Her cunning plan had one huge flaw. She underestimated the height of the window from the ground and couldn’t get back inside. Another flaw: Instead of walking up to the people sized hole in the house and knocking on the door to be let back in the house, she decides to carry a huge outdoor chair across the yard and places it up against the side of the house and uses it as a ladder to crawl back inside. Now mind you, this all happened while she was wearing no coat or shoes and in broad daylight. I can only imagine what my neighbors were thinking.

And to top it off, rather than tell your parent about what stupidity you just have gotten yourself into face-to-face, you send it via text message, because of course.

I used to call her Houdini because she would manage to find a way to take off her poopie diapers without taking off her footie pajamas in her crib. It seems she’s graduated into houdining out of houses.  Ugh. I could literally just kill her. Not to mention that we don’t have health insurance for two months because of Rich changing jobs. Now is not the time to start working on scaling the facades of houses, kid.


Story 3:

This one is more of a icky girl problem thing and I’m sorry in advance of the TMI nature of the topic. BUT ANYWAY, last year, Gabby got a visit from the monthly crimson fairy for the first time. Now even at my age – 36 – I still hate and have issues with my monthly visitor. You’d think that over the years, handling it would become easier or second nature. YEAH NOT SO MUCH. I am barely able to deal with my menses, now I have a mini me walking around that I have to deal with as well. Needless to say, it hasn’t been a fun year for me.

Ooooh and does she get ever so moody every month. Slamming doors, back talking, correcting grammar, and fighting her brother. Although I can’t tell if it’s the PMS, the teenagerhood onset or the fact that SHE HAS ALWAYS BEEN THIS WAY SINCE SHE COULD TALK. But, I digress….

I noticed recently that we are going through jars of pickles like water. I usually buy the large jar of mini gherkins by Mt. Olive from the supermarket. Before kids, we could have that jar of pickles for weeks before finally killing it. Now, it’s like we could go through it in 3 days (maybe less). I know we all love the pickles, but really? As an experiment, I bought two of the large jars during a recent supermarket run. That lasted about a week. Finally at dinner one night I asked, where are all of these pickles going? I really wasn’t expecting to get an answer, but the sass queen volunteered that she was eating them all. Owen chimed in and said “YEAH SHE DOES EAT A LOT OF THEM WHEN SHE GETS HOME FROM SCHOOL!” After Rich yelled at her to stop eating so many of them because it would ruin her dinner, she informed us that her friends told her that eating pickles during your time of the month works better than chocolate because you won’t get zits. Who is perpetuating this rumor!? No chocolate!?! Whaaaaaat? I think I laughed so hard that I snorted. Is this something that they read in Seventeen or Cosmo?

Hence the title of this blog entry – PMS Pickles.



At this point, I think the warranty is up on this child and I lost the receipt to return her. I guess I’ll just have to float her up the river like Moses.

This parenting thing is for the birds.

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