From Ripping Off Heads to Slobbering Mess: Friday’s “What the frak?” Moment

Friday’s “What the frak…?” moment (WTFM) is brought to you by………..

The male dominated medical industry: They created Viagra for erectile dysfunction, but remain clueless on what exactly causes PMS. Forget about discovering a cure.


Bobbi: I’m craving doughnuts. How late is Krispy Kreme open?

Me: Until at least ten. Hey, they’ll be “hot now”. If you go inside, you’ll get one from free. (I add jokingly–>) Go ahead and bring me one.

Fifteen minutes later, phone rings.

Me: Hello?

Bobbi: I’ll be there in two minutes.

I hang up dumbfounded.

About two minutes later, Bobbi walks in with a box of doughnuts.

I eye them with suspicion.

Bobbi: Why get one when you can get a baker’s dozen?

Me: But.. but.. I only wanted one.

Visions of devouring the entire so-warm-they-almost-fall-apart-doughnuts within the next five minutes bombard my head.

Bobbi: Well now you have six. (sees CG and I are busy conversing about something awesome that happened at his job). See you! (walks out door)

Me: (to my husband) What just happened?


The remaining three doughnuts taunt me. I already consumed the other three in less than twelve hours, stopping to sleep.

Me: Come eat these last three donuts because they’re (edited for profanity) telling me to eat them, and I DO NOT need an extra 800 calories.

Bobbi: If you don’t want them, just toss them out.

Me: You DO NOT (edited for profanity) throw away Krispy Kreme doughnuts. For future notice, unless I have 6 people to feed, DO NOT bring me six doughnuts because I will eat them all. I hate wasting food and there is no way to “save” a doughnut for later, they go bad. The first hot one was fabulous. Then I devoured a second. I chained myself to the couch to avoid eating a third in under ten minutes.

Bobbi: I know you’re PMS-y, but don’t attack me for trying to do something nice.

Me: (edited for profanity)

Ten minutes later.

Me: (stream of cursing) I ate another one.


Gym friend: Hey, how are you doing?

Me: (Bursts into tears).


My son turns on his super power of Selective Hearing.

Me: Don’t hit the wall with the broom.

My words bounce off.

Me: Please, do not hit the wall with the broom, I will have to take it away. It hurts the wall and will make Mommy very angry.

Still no change.

Me: FINE! (grabs broom from son and tosses it into place he cannot access). YOU’RE IN TIME OUT.

Son: No, I don’t want to be in time out.



Daughter: (shrieking at the top of her lungs, the sound a blend of YOU WILL DO MY BIDDING tantrum, tiredness, and hunger). AHHHH! AHHHH! AHHH! (repeat over one hundred times)

I attempt pacification methods: offering food, which she flings emphatically to the floor, continuing her screeches.



Person on internet: Your writing is lovely.

Me: (bursts into tears)


Following dinner out as a family, CG – warned of my mood swings – takes off with the kids for the hour until bedtime. He takes them to the park, and I head home.

CG: I tried to give you an evening away, so why are you home?

Me: Because I HAD TO BE, OKAY!!!! (bursts into tears)


Thirty-six hours.

For one and a half days, I was an overstretched rubber band, breaking at the slightest provocation.

I was the overfilled balloon, exploding at the smallest thing.

And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it, except summon every bit of willpower to not injure or kill those people in my presence.

I am not a “crier”. Things roll off of me. The last time emotional PMS slammed into me this hard was before The Tackler existed – I avoided contact with others during this time.

With the exception of random pregnancy moments (usually when hungry) or the Only Slept Five Hours in Two Days Extreme Sleep Deprivation Caused by Newborn, I don’t get over emotional – especially for an extended period of time. My hunger or “Food Eat NOW” is far more likely to ignite an outburst.

(Warning for any guys, skip this next paragraph: possible TMI)

However, I have not had the opportunity to have these outbursts in the last five years: two pregnancies and nursing meant I’ve only had about seven cycles.

For thirty-six hours, I was a poor mother – snapping at my children.

My state of mind

The Tackler hit the sensitive side of my foot with his plastic hammer after I pleaded for him to give me some space – my hands snatched it away and screamed to beat him with it as a reward. I didn’t, but the violence of my reaction for such a small (briefly painful action) scared me.

I couldn’t hide away from my children – I am their primary caregiver.

I had no magical pill to take to calm my emotions.

Medical industry, get off your male dominated platforms and discover a cure for helping women for a change. We have PMS, postpartum depression, and a host of other reproductive issues too – and our mood swings put those around us into our destructive path.

Seriously, WHAT THE FRAK!

Did you have a “what the frak?” moment this week?


About Kelly K @ Dances with Chaos

Kelly K has learned the five steps to surviving of motherhood: 1) Don't get mad. Grab your camera. 2) Take a photograph. 3) Blog about it. 4) Laugh. 5) Repeat. She shares these tales at Dances with Chaos in order to preserve what tiny amount of sanity remains. You can also find her on her sister blog, Writing with Chaos ( sharing memoir and engaging in her true love: fiction writing. It's cheaper than therapy.
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17 Responses to From Ripping Off Heads to Slobbering Mess: Friday’s “What the frak?” Moment

  1. Kir says:

    that was some week, Kel. WOW.
    I had one like that about 2 weeks ago and so I know about the crying, screaming etc.
    From me and the boys.

    we lost our transmission over the weekend and we had just paid this car off in Oct, the refund we are getting for our taxes is suppossed to cover other things, and I was reduced to standing on the side of the road with two 3 yr old almost running into a major highway because the “TOW TRUCK was too loud”. I could have used the donuts.

    hoping today is better.

  2. Jessica says:

    I have had many moments where I snap at my children. It would be nice if there was a pill to take to make that stop.

    Now, I am suddenly hungry for a donut….

  3. bobbijaye says:

    If it helps, I didn’t finish my six doughnuts either.

    Seven really. If you count the free one.

    The real fun of this was that I, too, was likely PMSy and burst into tears just after being reprimanded about doughnut buying. Seriously… who would have thought that Krispy Kreme could cause so much drama?

  4. marinasleeps says:

    Today I could use some donuts. I am pretty freaking emotional as well. At least CG understands. I hate this time around. I cry at everything. I mean everything. Its too much sometimes and I wonder if I am ok or not. I start to question everything, people, and I get paranoid.
    Uhhh, I just get back in bed.

  5. ajkamper says:

    A) Believe you me, if (married) men could cure PMS, we would do it in a HEARTBEAT. I can think of no drug that would improve our quality of life more.

    B) Viagra was a serendipitous find–it was supposed to be a blood pressure medication. Alleviating impotence was just a bonus. I like to imagine, when the first studies came back, the researchers doing backflips while envisioning themselves swimming in pools of money like Scrooge McDuck.

  6. Matty says:

    This sounds strangely familiar. Oh yeah, I know why……I lived through it. Yes, I’m a survivor. LOL

    I was hoping to see that you ate ALL the donuts. My goodness, Krispy Kremes are simply the best. They could cure just about anything.

  7. Ironic Mom says:

    AJKamper’s comment made me laugh.

    I must say I’m not a donut woman. But on PMS days, I’ll considering dipping chocolate into the jar of peanut butter.

    It sounds like it was quite a week. Great post!


  8. Amy says:

    I get it. I hate the Viagra people, they are about worthless.

  9. Melissa says:

    Three doughnuts were remaining the next day??? You have more self-control than I ever have!

  10. Galit Breen says:

    Oh, sister- I’m so with you. No, really. Like so with you right now. Our poor husbands. And kids. Want to send them on a play date and clink cocktails? And chocolate? 🙂 Hang in there!

  11. Tonya says:

    LOL — isn’t it the truth. You’d think that having to put up with us when we’re hormonal would inspire them to create a “cure”

  12. Christina says:

    Been there, done that. I could not agree more about the whole medical institution of stupid men. They should spend less time worrying about how to keep things straight up and more time on keeping us happy, ha!

  13. Pingback: Evil Temptress | Writing with Chaos

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