After a very delightful and what I considered short-lived 11 months, my least favorite time of the month has made it's way into my pants.
In the last three days I've managed to:
Taint my spotless armchair with crimson.
Stain three pairs of brand-new panties.
And miss out on two perfect opportunities to get my swerve on.
To top things off, my son is finally napping for more than 20 minutes at a time in his swing and I spent most of this time cleaning my house. Which is definitely a must (although I am listening to my dear husband rummage the kitchen as I type this and I know my hard work was in vain....) but shouldn't I have done something more pertinent? Like.... nap? Or have some intimate, one-on-one time with my husband?
Scratch that; football is on. I can see it now-- He's looking over my shoulder as I nuzzle him, not missing a single play, and shouting out when someone fumbles or intercepts or touch-downs. Yeah, we best not try that today.
So what's a girl with that special gift from mother nature to do?
This is coming from someone who spent several years of her life on continuous birth control as to NOT have to deal with these type of events. But we want to try for another baby in the next several months and I don't want to introduce unnecessary hormones into my system in the name of perfect panties. I digress...
When she first came around, I knew exactly what that sensation was. Oh no! These are new. These aren't no granny panties, maternity panties or torn lace panties. These are my new, pretty panties. I refuse to brand you with that tell-tale stain!
I stumbled through the dark over the baby gate, down the hall, and tip-toed to the bathroom. Panties dropped. No stains yet. Huzzah! And then the search began. I rummaged beneath the bathroom sink for a sign of anything that wasn't 3 inches thick and from my postpartum time in the hospital. Come on, don't I have some stray, five year old tampons? Really???
Ah, here we go. Light Days??? What??? This is anything but light. This will do I guess. Anything is better than the thickest, itchiest pads from L&D hell.
What do you suppose I woke to not more than 3 hours later?
Yeah. Goodbye pretty pink laced lovelies.
What a damn shame.