The Monthly Monster

Last fall I was babysitting for a family every weekday. Entrusted to care for three children (including dropping them off and picking them up from school) I was given a small taste of what parenthood might be like. However, I didn't think I'd be asked difficult questions about the birds and bees one afternoon when the 10 year old girl climbed into the passenger seat of my car with a bag full of feminine products announcing, "Well, they showed us the video today."

I took one look at the sample size Secret deodorant and the super thin Always Maxi Pad and steadied myself to vaguely answer any questions she had. My first course of action, of course, was to text her mother a warning of what she was coming home to this evening.

"This sucks!" was the first thing the 10 year old said. "It's so unfair! How come boys don't have to go through this?" I calmly reassured her that boys go through their own awkward phases and hormone spikes, so we're not alone on this. Then I spotted reading material in her bag of goodies and I instructed her to read that and see how many of her questions are answered in it.

Breathing a sigh of relief, thinking the literature could tell her all about it better than I could, she was silenced for a moment. Shortly after that her littler brothers climbed into the car and started asking if we could go to the park. Once at the park, she and I stayed in the car while she finished reading her pamphlet. When she was done she said, "I have one question... if boys have the reproductive cells in their... thingies... how is it that women are the ones that have babies?"

Oh god, oh god, oh god! What did I sign up for? Um.... how do I answer this? And while I was having this mini panic attack in my head, the light bulb turned on over hers. With a shrieking, "OH MY GOD!" she said, "THEY STICK IT IN????" Just then one of her little brothers popped up at my car window demanding a piece of candy. Thankful for the distraction I told him I didn't have any candy. He pointed to her goody bag and said, "No... from that."

Shit... he thinks she has candy and he and his brother were plotting on how to get some of it. When she claimed it wasn't candy, he didn't believe her. Finally she took out the pad and threw it at him. He looked at it and tossed it back walking away with shrugged shoulders.

It was then that I thought, "Why doesn't it have candy?" Because, seriously, when shattering a little girl's world by telling her that she will bleed every month until she's fifty unless she's pregnant, wouldn't it soften the blow by adding a little chocolate to the mix? Besides... countless women depend on the comfort of chocolate to get them through this terrible time of the month... might as well inform them of this future dependence at a young age.

I'm no different. I like my chocolate, but I'm not huge into it like some women are. I can't stand too much of it. Chocolate cake with a chocolate filling topped with chocolate icing? Too much. A heavenly piece of Dove Chocolate melting on the tongue? Just right.

Like most women, my craving for chocolate spikes during that time of the month. I can't explain it. I used to think it was nothing but farce. When I first started receiving my monthly gift I didn't notice any change in my mood or my cravings. I was miserable and I thought it was a horrible injustice, but I didn't think it was noticeable to the outside world. I thought I was pretty good at hiding it. I didn't think I needed the help of sinful indulgence.

Now I realize, after 15 years of this crap, that yes... we need the sinful indulgence. If I had more money, I'd book a spa weekend every month. I'd go away, leaving the people of my life behind (because let's face it... nobody wants to be around when this happens) and come back refreshed and normal again. Unfortunately I can't afford that so I'm stuck sticking around and trying not to rip the heads off of the people I love.

Yesterday the craving for chocolate was so bad I went ripping through my house to find anything that might have chocolate in it. I finally found some chocolate chips in grandma's kitchen and made some cookies. Since baking is the last thing I felt like doing, I ended up crying for no good reason and slamming shit around in the kitchen... because the cabinet doors were good targets for my irrational mood swing.

Finally, when the cookies were done and I got to take the first bite of the warm, melty, ooey, gooey chocolate I calmed the fuck down. Amazing, isn't it?

So, yeah... why not give the ten year old some chocolate and warn her to always have some handy? It might save her kitchen cabinets in future years.