Harmonic Convergence

It was bound to happen, but I didn’t think it would have happened so fast. Before I tell you what it is, how about a disclaimer for the gentlemen? Yes, indeed, it is that time of the month again. I know, I know, it’s bad enough when your mom/wife/girlfriend/daughter/fag hag has to tell you all about her monthly, and now you come here for a little diversion, only to find more menses. Unfortunately, bleeding seems to be a big theme at my house these days. So indulge me yet again, and soon enough, I will be ready to share another poop story with you.

Back to what happened. Last week, my period was late. More than a day or two late. The kind of late that makes a woman start to freak out, the kind that makes a woman start every sentence with “I’m late” or “where’s my fucking period?” I am generally not late, and yes, I had reason to be a little paranoid, so it was indeed a new thing for me to obsess over, the lateness of my period. My sister, LM, told me in her usual helpful manner that it was probably just my age (Thanks, again for that, dearest older sister). My husband assured me it was stress or just a fluke and nothing to worry about, and not his fault in any way. My friends just told me to shut up about it because it was coming, it always comes, and to calm the f down. I guess that was their nice way of telling me that my worry and moodiness were probably pretty good indicators of the upcoming shedding of my uterine lining, but all I was too consumed with freaking out to notice.

The truth is, all of them were right. I am getting older, which screws up my cycle. I have been stressed, and moody, and it had nothing to do with the excess of salt and chocolate I have craved and consequently consumed. And yes, my spouse and I took precautions to avoid an unplanned pregnancy (and who says I don’t have a filter?). I was worrying for nothing, and before I broke down and bought a pee stick, I started bleeding.

Now, that’s not the amazing part. Bear with me here a moment. My daughter, E, who recently became a woman in that way, is not quite yet regular herself. She got her first period, and then didn’t get another one for about sixty days later, which meant she was lucky as hell but wasted a ton of panty liners. She was not late, though. Her period came last week too, but it was way early. Neither of us was expecting it, even though by her own admission, she ate all of her Valentine’s candy and was mean to her friends at school. At home, we can’t really tell a difference in her mood, because it’s always changing in that special tween way. I am convinced all tweens are bipolar, but luckily for society, some of them outgrow it.

If you add the two of us together, you get my husband’s worst nightmare. My daughter and I are now in sync with each other, bleeding alongside of each other, cramping and whining simultaneously. I haven’t felt this close to her since she was in my uterus. We are both walking around, rubbing our lower backs, taking turns with the heating pad, and filling up every garbage can with our used feminine hygiene equipment. I figured it would occur at some point in our lives, our synchronized bleeding, but somehow I was hoping she would not be in the fifth grade when it did. It kind of takes a little of my parental leverage away. She thinks she is now my peer, since we can share our pads and complain about our cramps and generally disgust and freak out my husband and her father.

Not only could it be worse, one day, in the next few years, it will be. At some point, daughter number two is going to join the club, and after I slap her face and buy her all sorts of special teenage rags for tiny twats (for those OMG moments!), she too will sync up with her older sister and me. Then the three of us can bleed simultaneously, and my husband can begin construction on the shed he plans to move into in the back yard.