I’ve never worn ribbons in my hair, or displayed a penchant for gingham dresses. I also swear like a trouper, so you may be surprised when I say that I consider myself to be a bit of a Pollyanna. But that thing the eponymous heroine of the Pollyanna stories has - about seeing the good side of a situation - I’ve got that. It’s part of my nature to scramble to find something funny in even the worst of times, and it’s my bleedin’ superpower, I tell you.
All superpowers falter, though. Kryptonite weakened Superman; becoming a floppy-fringed, disco-dancing Emo boy turned Spiderman into an idiot (Sam Raimi, what were you thinking?); and this week there has been a concerted attack on my Superpollyannaness.
It’s not been one thing. It wasn’t an alien mineral-powered laser cannon expertly aimed at me by my nemesis. It’s cumulative crap.
It’s the fourth working day of my husband’s four on, four off shifts (a time when the end of my tether is a familiar sight).
My boy has not only been testing the boundaries, he’s been climbing up the boundary walls, jumping up and down on them whilst moonying, and then leaping so far over the boundaries I need a pair of binoculars to spot him. (The moonying is a metaphor, although he does have real world form in this area).
My girl’s anxieties have been at full frazzle setting: the doctors still haven’t had their meeting to decide whether her back op will go ahead; a reading comprehension test at school has set off a million questions; and to top it all, she’s perfected a brand new addition to the list of things she repeats over and over and over and over again. (I’ll tell you about that one another day, when I get my mojo back).
Finally, marvellously, after 30 odd years of pretty much pain-free menstruating (*sounds ‘wimmins things’ klaxon*), I seem to have suddenly developed awful lower-back ache and atrocious stomach cramps to go with the whole bleedin’ bleeding kerfuffle. The wince-inducing, teeth-gritting, doubled-up in pain-causing, impossible to sleep kind of stomach cramps.
Bah!, grrr! and, indeed, ow!
*retires to bed with a hot water bottle*
Video is The Cramps - Bikini Girls With Machine Guns