April is the worst in Minnesota. Officially a “spring” month, it’s not uncommon for it to look like this outside:

And you would think that May couldn’t be worse, but it could; it has been. I remember a wedding I attended on May 4th a few years ago. It may have only snowed a few inches, but in my soul, it felt like 3 feet of snow. Because It was May!! *sigh*

It’s supposed to snow 10 inches here tomorrow, on August April 3rd. I give up on looking at the 10 day forecast; it’s either a) too sad or b) a lie. And then, if you’ve been in MN awhile and use Facebook and posted a year ago today, Facebook is being entirely emotionally unsupportive and reminding you that it was 85 degrees Fahrenheit 364 days ago. *groan*

We will find out for sure on Thursday, but we look to be on track for a second transfer attempt on the 13th, so we would leave on the 12th. Couldn’t come soon enough!! Minnesota has two seasons: 9 months of winter and 3 months of road construction. Come April, I’m beyond ready for road construction, let me tell you.

SanFran is no oasis this time of year by any means, but if your normal winter is in MN, it’s a welcome change of pace. Getting there is multi-faceted. The weather has us emotionally preparing, our sweet kiddos have us logistically preparing, and our med calendar has us hormonally preparing.

That last part has been–during the last transfer, too–the source of well, here: my wife’s indictment as a certifiable crazy while hormonally impacted. As promised previously, this is a post about hormones. (Note: under normal circumstances, the “crazy” has a much lower baseline; she is a capable multi-tasker and runs a tight ship. Between the two of us, she definitely wins the “who’s more on the ball” trophy on the daily.)

Exhibit A (before lunch)

A med-related craving brought us to Qdoba. Their card machine was broken. Amanda (or her hormonally-generated altar ego) reeeeeaally wanted Qdoba so she (they?) insisted on checking the card fee on the nearby ATM. I never dreamed that using an ATM would become a “supervision required” activity, but somehow that’s where I found myself this afternoon. A line started forming at the ATM behind my wife, so I walked back over with a kiddo in tow to investigate lend a helping hand. Between taking a phone call and trying to use the ATM simultaneously, we had quickly overwhelmed our capacity. Again, under normal circumstances, my wife can do these two things while juggling the laundry, Christmas shopping, grocery shopping, paying bills, remembering to pick up a child from a bus stop at a pretty arbitrary time, make dinner etc. This is how I know this is drug induced. The screen of the ATM was silently screaming at my wife to “LEAVE YOUR CARD INSERTED” while she is discussing who-knows-what on her phone… with her card in her other hand. *facepalm* I tell her politely: “Do your phone call.” and take her card out of her hand, put it in the machine, navigate/supervise the remainder of her transaction, and assist in getting the now not-so-short line of future ATM users moving. Big deal? Not really. Worth it? No. The fee was $3 to use the ATM and was deemed too much, so we picked a different lunch spot. *quiet laugh*

Exhibit B (during lunch)

N (a pre-schooler): Mmm! I love tater-tots. How are they made?
Wife: Tater tots are the same as French fries; they’re just cooked differently.
N: Tater tots are cooked the same as French fries; they’re a different shape. You’re wrong, mom, but I still love you.
Wife: *stunned* Oh–wait… what?! Shoot. You’re right.
Me: *allllll the laughs*

Exhibit C (last transfer; some time mid-December)

My wife went to The Nutcracker with the girls. Fun was had by all. Upon returning to the car, she was alarmed to see the lights on. She was further startled to find her car keys missing from her purse. And then she was mortified upon learning she had left the keys in the ignition and the engine running. For the entire three hours of the performance. She didn’t tell me for a couple of weeks. It didn’t really make any difference; I still sighed and laughed–hard, too. I can’t remember which one I did more of.

Exhibit D (back to today, after lunch)

Amanda: *apologizing for/agonizing over her hormonal brain* …I’m sorry! It’s the hormones!!
N (from the back seat): The hor-whats??!
Amanda: The medicine and my brain are in a big fight, sweetie.
N: *super nonchalant* The medicine is going to win.