This week – – a rare glimpse into the Diary of a Mad, Maniacal, Menopausal Maiden, AKA . . . Me! Before you delve into today’s confidential entry, let me set the proper mood(swing) for you.
“You’re traveling to another dimension, a dimension not only of brain-fog and confusion, but also of mindless minutia and memory loss, a journey into a Midlife Meltdown whose boundaries exceed the imagination. At the signpost up ahead, your next stop – – ‘The Hormone Zone!’” (Cue irritating eerie music and Rod Serling’s voice getting on my last nerve!)
Dear Diary – – Today was averagely efficient. I loaded dirty laundry into the dishwasher, stepped on the gas-pedal thinking it was the brake while driving to McDonald’s where I paid at the cashier window, zoomed right on through the pick-up window without any food (much two my kid’s chagrin) then went home to find the Windex in the freezer where I was looking for some ice-cream, (as a consolation to my kids for their french-fryless existence) which was finally located in the refrigerator doing the perfect impression of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Soup!
But then Dear Diary, something miraculous occurred! I was given a sign from above that at age 49; I’m to become a mother again. On the kitchen table was a stick from one of those test kits with a little pink holy cross in the results window (somewhat odd for a Jewish girl) but some call this a “plus sign,” meaning a positive pregnancy test! Never mind not recalling ever taking this test – -it wouldn’t be the first time my memory fails me. But the point is . . . I am with child! I searched online for statistics of women my age who have buns in ovens, and instantly craved Cinnabon. That’s when our home phone rang.
“I’m busy gurgling something important on the Internet,” I informed my eldest daughter.
“It’s Googling, Mother,” she sighed.
“Right! Guess what? I’m pregnant. I found a stick I must’ve peed on and it’s positive.” Patient silence.
“Firstly, You did not pee on a stick. You spit in a tube. Last night, remember? Secondly, you’re not going to have a baby. You have high cholesterol.”
After my disappointment waned (not over losing diapers and breastfeeding; losing eggs and red-meat!) we had our usual conversation.
“Why won’t you save money and get rid of this landline that we’re talking on? After all, you do own a cellphone,” she reminded me.
“Because I need this home phone to call my cellphone. When I misplace it.”
She hung up exasperated. I immediately called my cell phone. Eight different times.
In my defense, the ringer was off, making it inaudible. On the ninth time, I found it in the kitchen garbage (more a commentary on my age than the quality of my Android!) but I was thrilled to see eight new voice-mails had come in!
My literary agent? Publisher’s Clearinghouse? My high school boyfriend saying his life has never been the same since dumping me? My kids planning me a surprise 50th?
But all eight recordings were from myself, saying the same thing, “Will you children be quiet while I call my cell? I’m trying to hear it vibrate!” Oh yes, there WAS a ninth caller – – my own mother, (whom I must’ve forgotten phoning earlier with my wondrous news) congratulating me on my pregnancy, but fervently refusing to babysit one more grandchild. Naturally.
Sigh, goodnight Diary.
Submitted for your approval: One Little Miss Menopause – – A very tired, confused, brain-fogged woman destined to keep wandering (for lost items) and wondering (is she pregnant? Or? ) does she just have high cholesterol? But consider this for a moment in time – – Was there really a home test? Or a daughter? Or a cell phone? Or a McDonalds, a diary, or even a blog that you read at all? Maybe she’s just a mannequin in a store window? Or a doll come to life?
We’ve got answers to all your pressing questions in tonight’s very small exercise in Menopausal Mania, whenever you dwell in the “”Once Upon Your Prime” Blog Zone!”
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Hey at least you have a reason – I find my wallet in the freezer, keys in the pantry and my phone inside a vase or something equaling rudunkulous on a regular basis. I wasn’t allowed to have a bike like all the other kids (including my little sister) when I was young (although I was allowed a horse as my mum said it had enough sense not to get run over) because I’m a ponderer.
A ponderer you may ask – yes one who ponders – contemplating various thoughts that branch to others as I go about my daily life. I have the ability to sit down light a cigarette and start reading a book, finish the cig (they must have changed the paper it burnt down so fast) reach for another, go to light it and hey presto it’s magic the lighter is gone.
Wow I must have created a wormhole or gateway – exciting stuff maybe it will come back and bring the hundreds of pairs of glasses and sunglasses that have traveled there as well. I look up to tell my husband of my new powers to see him smiling that very familiar fond yet rueful smile. What I ask cautiously – You got up walked into the kitchen put the pizza in the oven (forgot to turn it on) and then came back and started reading again – you took your lighter into the kitchen so I followed to make sure you didn’t put it in with the pizza – you didn’t you put it away with the cutlery.
Indignant noises coming from me ….when, how – really – oh so I can’t create gateways to other dimensions – damn that would have been handy when unwelcome visitors come both for escape or disposal.
Sadly this is a true story – I just get a little sidetracked at times inside my own head – I’m actually rather scared of what will happen in a few years when the menopause fairy comes to visit – god knows what I’ll be like by then.
Ha! I actually read this in Rod Sterling’s voice…I obviously have my own issues. 🙂 Very funny, but also heartwarming, since I now know I’m not the only one in her 40’s with some of these problems! Awesome post.
Thanks! I would have liked to overhear your impersonation of Rod Serling…. Lol.
I really like The Hormone Zone opening…my (w)hores are taking turns moaning and laughing at that one.
How did I miss this comment from you with such great word play?!? Whore-Moan – – Perfect! You clever blog mate, you.
When you say “Gurgling something important on the Internet”, that is comedy gold (for computer guys like me)! But on the other hand, you seem to use an Android phone, which is like Windows for Phones (The actual Windows Phone looks good but is stupid) which makes me think you might be technologically adept, so I’m a bit confused here but nevertheless laughing my hats* off 😀
*word substitution used
And then I go and really throw you off by being a maiden in distress and asking for help with links to other posts, don’t I? Truth is, Sir Sid – – I don’t necessarily blog the whole truth. I am a fiction writer at heart and alas that departure into make believe comes out sideways in my posts continuously. So yeah, I don’t use an Android. I actually use two cups and a string. (Lol. Okay, okay – – I use an old iphone 4. What’s your opinion on them, Mr. Computer Guy?)
But that’s what has always been fascinating and cathartic for me about fiction writing. Weaving facts and reality that are straight outa ME into a character that is so far from me, I’d never even sit down to break bread with her. It’s kind of my way of playing “True Confession” with the world. Only they don’t exactly know which part is real or not.
I think I will blog about this topic actually because a couple of other readers have taken my posts as gospel and I certainly don’t want to mislead people. I do like to write in a self-deprecating manner; for some reason I find it great fun to play like I’m constantly messing things up, scatterbrained, making mistakes and getting in predicaments that are outlandish. I think that’s the “I Love Lucy” in me. She’s a genius and I’ve always admired that flair for making a fool out of herself, but doing it so admirably.
Okay, wow…it’s like an entire post in the comments section, isn’t it?
My “hats” off to you, Sir Sid.
*no word substitution used.
Believe me when I say this, I can see through some of the fiction, but not knowing which is which is the fun part now isn’t it?
The iPhone is the first thing I thought you would use, it is the most user friendly of the phones. I’ll leave that at that 😛
I admire your self deprecating manner. I think you are a comedian at heart, after-all the first requisite of being a comedian is to know how to laugh at oneself and that’s what makes you awesomely funny!
And yes, that is a complete post in the comments! But I guess such discussions lead to ideas for new posts, so it’s all good!
PS I used word substitutions because this is your blog, your “home” and I will mind my manners 😛
I thought for a moment I was in the outer limits. . .Oh, wait that was a different episode. Maybe you could address those who are suffering from MentalPause in one of your blogs. I got a much needed laugh on this. Thanks for sharing.
I always laugh reading your posts! I was all set to give you a big congrats on a ‘bun in the oven’ too!
Yeah, at this point, thank goodness, no! But I suppose it’s not entirely impossible. But again, thank you…no! 😉 However I am glad you laughed.
No No no no no no no no! When I was six, I ended up alone in front of the TV watching the only episode of the twilight zone I ever seen. It terrified me! Haunted me for years! When I was 24, sleepless one night I turned on the TV and found myself watching for the second time the only episode I have ever seen… again the chills. I was happily reading your blog when I get to the end and there, staring at me in black and white, its her! That horrifying murderous doll!!!! No No No No!
Ha! Very funny comment. But you had it easy. I doubt (very much) that you had a bedroom FULL of shelves with dolls (at age 6) and upon seeing this particular episode, woke up screaming nightly that one of them had undeniably and WITHOUT A DOUBT, winked at you, resulting in absolutely nobody in your family believing you and so the dolls HAD to stay. Or did you? 😉
No, I had to try to convince my family about the snakes coming out of the electrical outlets. They never did believe me.
Brainfog – yay!
Also, ooh – does the name “Twilight Crone” come with a personal armored Cronemobile and cape or is this a purely ceremonial title?
Cronemobile….love that. Same Crone channel, same Crone time. And as for “Yay Brainfog” – I am waiting for insurance to decide that’s a new medical diagnosis so I can file lots of claims.
Yeah, I have serious brainfog moments too, so I’m right there with you on hoping it would be classified as a medical condition…