PMS in the jungle
Posted by Ronna vonKnorring on Nov 2nd, 2007
The "issues" with my man.
Dealing with PMS is bad enough. Dealing with a man during PMS can be a challenge. Dealing with your beloved, mine calling my symptoms "my issues," is like adding salt to an open, oozing, gaping, wound. Ironic how MOST of those "issues" that I battle each month have something to do with HIM! I have come to find out that a lot of his "quirks" that I once thought were adorable, now send me into a downward spiral a few days of the month.
You know how when you first meet someone and you are still in that stage of ... what do the experts call it … oh yeah … LUST? Your newfound love says and does things that you think are just so cute and whimsical but eventually those same habits become major irritants? These are the type of "issues" that challenge me.
My guy was a hardworking farmer for over three decades of his life. He would sit down for a meal I prepared, when in the "lust" stage of our relationship, and eat as if there were no tomorrow. Shoveling in his food, not taking a breath of air other than to help get the food down faster. There would be no conversation as I watch him devour his platter of delicious and nutritious items that I spent two hours putting it together. Not counting the time spent on planning the menu or purchasing the items.
I remember at the time thinking to myself, "Ah, isn't that something? I bet during his farming days he had just a few minutes to fuel his body before returning to the tractor for a long afternoon of fieldwork. Oh … I wish I could have cooked and cared for him back then."
In a few minutes his plate would be clean. I do mean CLEAN because he would scrape at it with his fork until every bit was gone. I thought, "He probably had so little growing up that he licked his platter clean, not knowing when he might eat again."
In Lust Stage, once his platter was cleaned of all food, he would retire to the couch to "relax and digest", as I sat by candlelight, alone, enjoying the fruits of my 10 years in 4-H cooking classes. SO cute … my little farmer man. This is NOT the case when I'm PMSing!
During those days I want to scream at him…"CHEW YOUR FOOD! Look up from your plate and acknowledge my existence as the creator of your calories. Show some appreciation for what I went through to provide you with the finger-licking-good meal other than your occasional caveman like gruntings! And STOP that scraping for goodness sakes. It's OKAY to leave a few crumbs behind. Here, have a piece of bread … wipe it up with THAT so I don't have to hear that annoying scrape, scrape, scrape!"
I remember also when we were still getting to know each other how happy I was to pick up after him. I felt like I was being given the opportunity to nurture and care for him in numerous ways. When I would get home from work, I would find a trail of shoes, clothes, paper work, books, cell phone, hat, etc. making their way from the front door to where I would find him lounging on the couch. After making himself a snack before I got home from my own full-time job, the bread sack would be laying open on the counter among the crumbs, near a dirty knife, spilled beer and sticky lime rinds. With no thought to it at all, I would clean it all up and consider myself a domestic goddess. He could make any mess and know that I would be keeping the house in tiptop shape. I felt honored.
On PMS days here in the jungle, when I see a bread sack left open and crumbs on the counter I have an internal coniption fit. Ants find his cracker crumbs and are all over the counter tops. Wrappers from ice cream treats, candy bars, etc. can be found on floors inside the house where they just "fall from his hand" or in the yard where the wind sent them from our upper deck. Plates, bowls, and cups that were used days ago, I'll find in his office, where I only venture once a week or so.
Clothes that he has worn outside and gotten muddy and gross will be laying on the floor, soaking wet with sweat, stinking up the room. After shaving, the sink is full of beard/head stubble and shaving cream foam on the wall and mirror.
I want to drag him by the back of the neck and point his nose into his messes while reminding him, "I am not your mother OR your maid! Clean up your own damn messes, you SLOB!"
Another thing that was cute in the lust stage was how he would rub his foot along my leg while lying on the couch watching TV at night. So tender and sweet. A constant connection between us. Ahhhhhhhhhhh. Not so when I'm PMSing.
When that foot, that walks around barefoot from sunrise to sunset touches my leg I jerk away and yell, "GET THAT OFF ME!" When he looks confused, and he always does, I say to him, "Have you seen your feet lately?? LOOK AT THEM! They are dirty and covered in gecko poop that you've stepped on! GET OUTTA MY BED!"
This dirty-foot man is also a frugal man, a.k.a. RAT PACK. Throws NOTHING away, filling every possible corner of our home, carport, tool shed and yard with "junk". I remember thinking during lust stage that he is SO smart to be so frugal and not wasteful. I'm was so proud of him for knowing that he might one day need seven plastic buckets with holes in them and how wise he was to hang on to them.
During PMS I see his disorganized Fred Sanford way of life and want to scream…."THIS ISN'T HOW IT"S SUPPOSE TO BE! My surroundings should be neat, tidy, categorized, clean! Why does my tropical paradise have to look like a junkyard?" We have broken appliances of all kinds, 14 life jackets that won't be used since we no longer have a motor on the boat (which has weeds growing OVER it because it hasn't been used in over a year), broken furniture, those buckets with holes in them, construction items that never got used or put away, air mattresses with leaks, torn tarps, chairs with missing legs and MORE.
I have learned to avoid our bodega (garage/tool shed) since it's "his area". I have emptied it twice, with the help of visitors at the time, and organized it by types of items. Plumbing stuff in one area, tools here, water sport items there, digging implements on that side, gas/oil and weed-eaters in their spot, etc. What happens? He uses something then puts it in a totally different spot when done. In two weeks time it's in complete disarray again. Some how, the truckload of "junk" I was able to haul off when he wasn't looking, has been replaced with new items to fill up and clutter what was once a perfectly organized area! I give up. I've banned myself from the space.
When he wants a particular tool and can't find it, he'll come to me and ask where might have I put it!?!?!?! Or, in his exact words, "Where did you HIDE my _ (fill in the blank)?"
When I tell him I didn't touch it and haven't seen it, his reply nine times out of ten is…"Well, someone must have come here when we were gone and took it from behind the locked door". Oh geez! He'll moan and groan, going on and on, about how he can never have anything in life because it always comes up missing. That's why he's not ever going to buy anything new again. It will only get "stolen"... uh ... misplaced and unable to ever locate.
It gets to the point, and I'm beginning to think it's intentional, and I just can't take his whining anymore. I gett up from what I'm doing, enter the bodega, look around and eventually find what he was looking for. He'll ask, "Where did you find THAT?" When I point out the area in his domain, he'll say, "I know I looked there just a minute ago. It wasn't there THEN…must have just magically appeared!" I think, "oh sure honey, that's what it did. It just magically appeared. I have a supernatural touch."
I find that my food inhaling, nasty footed, junk collector who knows I'll clean up after him is much more tolerable when PMS has disappeared for the time being. I'm fully aware that I am what one calls an "enabler" but I also know that if I don't turn a blind eye and bite my tongue I'll have even more "issues" to battle and that's a war I choose not to be enlisted in.
It's a Jungle Down Here.
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