A Touch of the Menstrals…

Having five girls is a constant source of joy, irritation, fun and frustration.

Two pre-menstrals, three menstrals and one peri-menopausal make mood swings in our house like a Newton’s Cradle. Daughter 2’s mood swings are like a huge pendulum coming crashing towards you, that you either slip to the side of or take full on, depending on your own mood. But as quickly as it hits, it will swing back happily the other way and she’ll have us all laughing again.

The four males in the house: partner, dog 1, dog 2 and fat cat, all look on with amusement and despair – depending on their moods.

When we got dog 1, scaredy cat was never to be seen in public again, whereas fat cat takes the dogs on. He wears his big ginger status with pride. Scaredy cat now has special hiding places where she lives. I have noticed that partner is starting to develop a similar pattern of behaviour: current favourite hiding spots when Newton’s Cradle in full swing: toilet, our bedroom where his two guitars are, tv room as we have free sky sports for three months due to Talk Talk cock up, garage which is now an office.

He has bought us (himself) a pressure washer, which I feel he is overly excited about. It came in several parts – all of which arrived separately and all of which had to be delivered to our neighbour as we were out. Part one: the pressure washer itself. Left neighbour knocked at 10pm. He looked weary. The box had been taking up his entire hallway since 2pm. I apologised profusely. Next came the small brush. He dutifully brought it round – more apologising. Then it was the large brush (when I say ‘large’ I mean HUGE – like a stingray) So I don’t have to do as much brushing, partner said gleefully. It was delivered, yet again, by left neighbour. I’m sure there can’t be any more bits to this pressure washer, I said to left neighbour, in a vain attempt at lightening his mood. Then partner got an e mail: the cleaning liquid will be delivered tomorrow, it read. Left neighbour lobbed it at us from his front door as we returned from work that evening, narrowly missing fat cat, who is inclined to lounge on the pavement outside our house, seeking love from anyone susceptible.

Pressure washer, now complete. Us, now struck off left neighbour’s Christmas card list. A week later, boxes still stacked, unopened in living room. Ah well, I suppose it gives partner something to hide behind.

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