The Incomparable Auntie Joyce

I’ve never liked thunderstorms. I know there are people who just love all the thunder and lightning and wind and excitement, but they have always scared me.

I remember one thunderstorm when I was a little girl. I don’t know how old I was—probably five or so … we were living out in the country (back when Mom liked to cook) and Uncle Zip and Auntie Joyce were staying with us. I’m not sure what the occasion was but I’ll assume it had to do with hunting or fishing.  There is nobody who loves fishing like my Auntie Joyce.  She’s a legend in the boat and on the ice. Anyway, they were sleeping in my room and I was out on the hide-a-bed in the rec room.

A thunderstorm woke me up and, of course, I was scared. I remember Auntie Joyce coming out and just laying with me on the hide-a-bed. Always the patient teacher, she told me little stories about her students-- and I’m sure I told her a few, too. Right there, in the middle of the night, she comforted me. She could have sent me up to my mom and dad, but she stayed and visited until I was calm enough to go back to sleep. She has probably long since forgotten about that night, but I will always remember it.

When I was little, Auntie was like a celebrity in my eyes. She had these long, manicured nails and do you know what she had—stuck right in the corner of her pinky nails?? Rhinestones! Oh my goodness. I used to try to glue stick tiny pieces of paper to my chubby, dirty fingernails to try to be like her.  And she always wore the most beautiful and unique jewelry… We would just sit with her and admire her rings. She would point out the little intricacies in each piece and tell my cousin Jen and me about where they all came from.

When a baby is born in our family, Auntie Joyce makes him or her one of her special quilts. It always ends up being the favorite. When Andrew was little, his was absolutely threadbare and tied together. There was nothing left of it. (I’ll have to ask him if he brought it with him when he joined the Marines). All the kids love their Auntie Joyce Blankies / Kikis / Nigh-Nights. It's not hard to draw a parallel between a comforting blanket and the wonderful and generous woman who made each of them so lovingly.

We found out on Thanksgiving  Day that Auntie has pancreatic cancer. I have spent quite a bit of energy asking God why this has “happened to her.” Asking boldly for a miracle. Pointing out that, of all people, Auntie Joyce has been through enough and does not deserve this.

And then I realized something. 

I need to pray for comfort. 

I want my Auntie comforted and comfortable. 

I want her to feel like she’s under one of her special blankets and safe from the storm. I want her to know she’s admired—not only for her glitzy and glamorous sense of style, but for being so incredibly strong and for being such an excellent teacher and for being the wife and mom my Uncle Zip and cousins have counted on and adored.

I’m still praying for the miracle, of course. But I’m also praying that all these gifts she’s given to our family and the huge number of lives she’s touched, she’s getting back. Because if anybody deserves that, it’s my Auntie Joyce.

  

Kids in the Polls...

Today’s the day! 
Voting Day.
The day that solidifies what Project Charlie taught us decades ago: “I matter.”
Aaaah the ultimate Warm Fuzzy.

I have been compiling my little list of facts and issues that are important to me and filing them into their appropriate pro and con columns and I am ready.

It totally gets me goose-bumpy.

This afternoon, I am going to strut in there, tell them who I am and I am going to Matter. And you know what else? I’m bringing the kids. Yep. All 4. Those people who have been volunteering for hours are going to be thrilled to see my five-year-old burst into that church.

But this privilege we have shouldn't be some far-off ideal…I want the kids to see it and be a part of it and be excited for their opportunity to do it.
It’s not glamorous, but it’s awesome. 
And tonight, after “we” vote, we are totally nerding out. You bet I’ve made Ballots for them to fill out so they can cast their vote for supper choices. You bet we are actually going to eat in front of the TV (unheard of!!) and watch what happens. 
And, while they may not be enthralled or even faintly interested, hopefully, years from now, they will remember that on November 6^th, 2012, their mom and dad had their say. And they mattered. 
And win or lose, when we graciously (graciously, you guys—we are setting examples here) accept our nation’s leader and the new policies that are put in place, they will know that our voices and beliefs mattered.
And so will theirs.
And when their opportunity to be heard comes, they will feel goose-bumpy and proud. 

And blessed, too.
Because, oh my goodness, we certainly are.

Perspective: Shifted. Mostly.

After my last two posts, I feel like I need to do a follow-up of sorts. A post-op re-cap, if you will. For the most part, Joe is recovering quite well from the strain his body has been through. He still really struggles with shortness of breath, exhaustion and a rapid heartbeat. I suspect we will have to make a few more adjustments to his medication and we have already implemented lifestyle changes that include less sodium and cocktails and more broccoli and halibut.

I consider myself an optimist. I really do. But I've spent a lot of time trying to find some reason my 40-year-old husband had a heart attack.  Joe has always had good cholesterol. He's always had lower blood pressure. He's active, he's at a healthy weight... This just didn't make sense..
I split my time in the hospital between being angry and saying "Really, God?!?! REALLY?! His Heart?!?" and begging Him to heal Joe.

I have had a bit of time to process everything that happened and you know what? I've decided Joe's heart attack was a miracle. A good one.
If you really look at the sequence of events, I think you'll agree with me.
First of all, when this all happened, Joe had chest pain and thought he was coming down with pneumonia. He was out of town on business all day one Wednesday and ended up going to the Urgent Care after hours.
Had he been working from home that day, he probably would have gone to a clinic. He didn't have much of a fever so chances are, they probably would have given him a Z-Pak or something for a cold. I imagine they may have said to give that a try because there's a lot going around right now and also a lot of allergens floating about. And if he wasn't feeling better in a few days to come back for x-rays. That's how I imagine it may have gone down.
But he went to Urgent Care. And they did an EKG. And that was irregular. So they "strongly suggested" he get himself to the Emergency Room.

Once there, they took his blood and monitored him. His doctor happened to notice Joe has two tiny tattoos on his chest--Just dots. He got those 20 years ago when he was going through radiation. (They put them there so they knew where to, um, zap him.) The doctor recognized them and knew that chest radiation can be very hard on the heart.
It's because of this he ordered the angiogram for the next morning.

That morning, they discovered he had already had a heart attack and one of his main arteries was failing. By 90%. And there was also a large blood clot forming because of this.
They got the clot out, put a large stent in and also discovered two other potential problem areas we are going to continue to keep an eye on.
Obviously, this rocked our world.
And I am certain there are going to be times when I am still going to feel like this whole situation has been really unfair.
But right now, I believe very strongly that God wants Joe here with us for a long time. He has big plans for him. And He saw the problems in his heart and made us aware of them before something even worse happened. He didn't have a major, drop-to-his-knees heart attack. He had a minor one. Alternately, he could have lived a long time with his heart the way it was. He would have been a ticking time bomb, though. That clot could have been big trouble and we wouldn't have even known it was there.
God got Joe's attention.
Call it ideal, call it optimistic, call it child-like faith. It's perspective and it's getting us through these tough times.
And that, sweet friends and family, is what I am going to concentrate on. Well that and finding heart-healthy recipes the kids will eat.
Wish me luck!

Update

Well, we were hoping that at this point, Joe would be on the other side of this. He was sent home Friday evening and had quite the welcome committee at the house. We spent the evening just sitting around and talking... Early bedtime... A picture-perfect night for our patient.
His sleep was restless, though. He was up early with chest pains and shortness of breath. We chalked it up to stretching pain, from his stent, and decided to play the day by ear.
My mom and I took the kids to their soccer games--Sam Knudson scored a sweet goal!-- We came home and Joe and I took a romantical little walk around the block. This was a huge victory!
The tightness and shortness of breath was becoming more frequent and harder on him, though.
A couple hours later, we walked for about a half a block and things got worse.
We decided it made much more sense to get him checked out again, so back to the ER we went.
His EKG was a bit off, his enzymes were climbing (indicating some distress) ... And soon there were 8 "medical people" in that curtained little emergency room with us checking him out.
It was determined he would have to have another angiogram. (Joe was less than thrilled about this.)
This time went much faster than the first.
In an angiogram, they look at the larger vessels and arteries. Those all look fine, which is good news.
However, we don't know why he is in so much pain and why his heart is stressed.
We spent the night last night-- it was pretty restless. Again, he had a lot of tightness and shortness of breath. We are spending the night again tonight and between now and when we go home, they are going to explore a few options. It may be a micro vascular disease (this would make sense because the larger arteries looked ok) or vascular spasms, due to the influx of blood flowing through his new stent, or an issue of his body trying to protect itself from the stent and starting to collect fluid around his heart or lungs.
So, we are waiting... And while we are still thankful we are here and he is getting such great care, we just want to get the heck out of here. Please keep him in your prayers. Pray for the doctors, pray for the kids--they are going to come up here tonight for a visit. We want to take the scariness out of it for them, hopefully. We think it would be good for them to see Joe in the hospital and then see him come out ok. We still aren't going to mention to them this involves Joe's heart but they can know he's not feeling well and the doctors are going to keep him for a while until he's all better.
Thank you so much for your encouragement and prayers and messages. They mean the world to us. And, while we haven't responded to most of you, please know we've read all of them and we deeply appreciate it.
Enjoy your day...Go Vikes!

Broken heart ... Mended with stents

We have had a crazy couple of days. First, I will share in some absolute joy: On Tuesday morning, Joe and I were sitting in his oncologist's office, waiting for the results of the check-up he had had last week. See, about 20 years ago, Joe had cancer. Hodgkin's. He fought it and won. A few years later, he relapsed. Again, he fought it. Joe: 2, Cancer: 0.
He goes back to the doctor every two years or so for a check-up.
Tuesday morning, in that office,, the doctor told us all his tests and scans came back great and he didn't have to make a return for five years! We left the Mercy Cancer Center and I just started crying and praising God.
When you're worried that there's potential for not getting the Clean Bill of Health All-Clear, actually getting it is... Amazing.
Later that night, as I was drifting off into an exhausted sleep, Joe mentioned he thought he was getting pneumonia. He's had it before and his chest felt tight. I felt his forehead (because that, along with forcing the kids to open their mouths really wide so I can hold their tongues down with a butter knife and look at their throats when they're sore, is the extent of my medical abilities).
He didn't feel warm, but we agreed he ought to go in for chest X-rays on Wednesday. 
The next morning, I went to work, he got the kiddos on the bus and went to Wilmar for meetings. He called me on his way home and said he was going to swing by an urgent care to get his chest looked at. He was still having pain and shortness of breath and we didn't want to take any chances with pneumonia.
Urgent care X-rays and EKGs didn't show anything so they recommend the ER.
"Well," Joe thought, "Something is not right and it's better than trying to schedule something later in the week."
The ER doctor did more tests and noticed a high level of enzymes in his blood. This is a sign that the heart is having troubles. Pretty big troubles.
As in, Joe had had a heart attack. 
40-year-old, never-smoked, drinks just a bit, low-cholesterol, pretty awesome blood pressure, fairly fit... Joe.
They admitted him overnight.
Last night was not a restful night for Mr. And Mrs. Knudson. I didn't want to go to sleep because I knew that when I woke up, I would have to deal with whatever was going to happen. And it was so fast. I didn't want to.
This morning, I got the kids on the bus, with the help of my Breast Friend Kate, and was at the hospital by 9:30.
By 10:20, they were wheeling Joey away in a hospital bed, all hooked up to tubes and monitors, to get an angiogram. It was surreal.
A while later the nurse came in and reported that the one side of his heart looked pretty tough. (What?! Are you kidding me!?) Turns out that when Joe had radiation about 20 years ago, it damaged his heart. This isn't uncommon with Hodgkins patients because the radiation goes in through the chest area. F-you, cancer.
They brought him back to me in his room after about an hour and a half.
When I spoke with the doctor, he gave me some pictures of Joe's heart. One of his coronary arteries was in bad shape and he had put in a big stent.  
There are two other spots he's nervous about but they were not dealt with today because there was another problem--a large clot. So they gave him a lot of blood thinners and took care of that. The other problem areas will be dealt with in about six months or so, once he's had a chance to let this first procedure settle in. They may need stents, or we may just need to have it checked every so often. We don't know yet.
So, I guess, in all the craziness, we are still thrilled Joey is cancer free, of course. And, even though we have had a terrifying couple of days and he is not completely out of the woods, we are thankful. Thankful that Joe knows his body as well as he does and he went in when he did. Had he waited, there is an excellent chance that big clot would have dislodged itself and traveled to his brain. We are thankful that we live so close to such wonderful doctors and nurses and equipment. We are thankful for our flexible jobs and understanding bosses and the people at work who are picking up our slack yesterday and today so we can be together. We are thankful to our parents for taking such awesome care of the kids-- by the way, we are not telling those four there is Anything wrong with Joe's heart. They just know he felt sick and the doctor wanted to keep him for a night or two to keep an eye on him. We are thankful for insurance!
We are asking for your prayers. Prayers for his heart, prayers for that unwavering, strong spirit of his and prayers for our family.
And please thank God as well. Because in the midst of the machines and monitors ... If a minor heart attack is what it took to make us aware of the much bigger problems he was unknowingly having, we'll take it.
And, friends and family, if you think he's not going to let us know ... constantly ... how tough he is--Walking around with a heart attack--you are sorely mistaken. As soon as he's feeling better, he will certainly be peppering his conversations with the recent tales of what an amazing and strong guy Joe Knudson is. But until then, I'll do it. Because I'm so proud of that amazing and strong guy... and I am so thankful.

Taking Back the 22nd

About a year and a half ago, I was out on a date with my (then) boyfriend Joe. We were at this bar downtown Chandler, AZ having a wonderful time—Yummy food, cold beer, lots of laughing… I was loving that giddy feeling one has when on a date with someone she knows she may just be falling for… It was a really great evening.

The check came and he grabbed it right away. Aaah my dashing dining companion. Love that about him. He then motioned for the server to come closer. He quietly and discreetly pointed to a random young couple a few tables away from ours and said “I’d like to pay their tab as well. Please don’t tell them who did it. Just say it was taken care of by ‘someone who wants you to enjoy your night.’”

The server was puzzled, then smiled and went off to transfer the ticket onto ours.

I was just staring at Joe. Well! This was new. What’s he trying to do here? Be this knight who swoops in and buys food for the not-very-poor? This was quite the “move.”  I was alarmingly close to rolling my eyes.

He met my gaze head-on and said, “I am not doing this to impress you.”

Was I that easy to read?

“Oh. Well. Good. I didn’t think that you were!” I said indignantly. And not very convincingly. Because clearly, he was.

“Today is the 22nd,” he said.

“Um. Yes. It is.” I replied. Are 22^nd‘s Free Food Days sometimes?  I wondered.

“Jodi died on December 22^nd. I can say it was the worst day of my life. It was awful. So, I came up with a little something to make it … better. I can make someone else’s 22^nd pretty great. A free meal at a restaurant, giving to a charity on the 22^nd, cleaning up a playground on the 22^nd…. I don’t know. There are a lot of things I can do to make this 22^nd better for a complete stranger. And I know Jodi would have liked that. She was big into complimenting people just to make their day brighter. She loved that kind of stuff.” (I’m paraphrasing here. He probably described this whole ideal a lot better that night).

So he was Taking Back the 22^nd. This made perfect sense. I mean, we can do nice things for people any time, but to do it with purpose, coming from such pain… I totally got that.

I have had opportunities to Take Back the 22^nd both on my own and with Joe. It’s not always buying someone food anonymously at a restaurant. It’s doing something small and memorable for one person to make their day. With no fanfare, no glory. The reward is the smile you know you brought out for them.Even though you won't get to see it.

The kids have all gotten to be part of this at one time or another. We just explain to them that they have the power to make somebody’s day. That’s a huge and wonderful power. And whether it's on the 22nd or not, we should all abuse the hell out of it.

Happy Mother's Day!

First of all, Happy Mother's Day!

So much has changed for me in my short time of being a mother.

I have been a stay-at-home mother of one, a stay-at-home mother of two, a working mother of two, a Single, working mother of two and now... On this, my 7th "official" Mother's Day... I am a married, working mother of Four.

I feel so lucky to have had all of these experiences and perspectives. I loved staying home with my kids. Loved it. To those people out there who say "I could never 'just stay home'. I would get so bored!" I need to say this: Then you're doing it wrong. 

I loved my Mom's Club friends. What strong women. Five years later, I still consider many of them very close friends. I loved my MOPS group, I loved going to parks, I loved arts and crafts (yes, me--they weren't complex ones) we had a museum membership, a zoo membership (Again. Me!) and a library card. We had favorite play grounds and a tricked out Step 2 Safari covered wagon with seat belts, drink holders and a door that opened.

For the most part, The Chick and The Duck (AKA The Blondes) did not touch fast food and I cooked most of our meals.

Staying home with your kids, in my opinion, is a huge sacrifice on countless levels, but the rewards are immeasurable. 

Moving on....Working mother of two. Oh. My. Gosh. I was working from home about 50 hours a week, my husband at the time had a job that demanded his constant time and attention had a "just because you started working doesn't mean my job has changed" philosophy and I was officially in over my head.

I still tried to do all the things I had done when I stayed home. After all, I was working from home. It's not like I was like other working moms... right?

(For those of you who have worked from home with a family, you know what an incredible struggle it is).

Not long after I started, my husband and I separated. 

Those were some tough months because sometime in there, my company decided that those in my position would no longer be working from home, we would be working nine-hours-a-day from a little office about 30 minutes away. And there were weekends involved.

When the opportunity to move to Minnesota presented itself, I jumped at it.

A single, working mother of two 1564 miles from the kids' dad.

Yet another chapter.

Luckily, I had a wonderful support system. Grandmas, Grandpas, friends and a wonderful, flexible boss made this much smoother for The Blondes and me than I ever could have hoped.

It was still very hard. My house never, ever looked spotless, there always seemed to be one more load of clothes waiting to be done and Samma missed Pajama Day both times they had it at preschool (In my defense, it's better than her going to school in her jammies when she wasn't supposed to... Right??)

The kids were in skating lessons, soccer and dance class, respectively, and I took a year (and counting) off from working out.

Yep. Sacrifices.

But different sacrifices this time.

I was living in my home state with friends within 30 minutes of me, but there was just never time to get together--Or money to pay a sitter so we could get together.

I was also dating this amazing man 25 minutes away.

He is the most hard-working, generous man I have ever met. And his mission was to make my life easier. I would come home to my lawn freshly mowed. Or to some food he just made in my fridge. One day, I came home to a new dresser in my room. (I had been content to live out of Rubbermaids for a while.) Yep. He made my life easier. And then some. 

He has these two adorable dimples... and two amazing sons. He's the complete package.

And just about a month ago, I got to marry him,

Which brings me here. On this, my 7th Mother's Day, sitting on our deck, drinking a Mimosa, digesting French toast and sausage and fresh fruit and candied bacon (yes. He candied bacon for me!!!!) watching my three sons play on the beach.

My little girlie is taking a nap and we have big plans to Just Be today.

My kids' dad sent me a nice "Happy Mothers Day" text and is now living back in Minnesota.

As I look to this next chapter, with my four kids, my perfect-for-me husband and my family close by, I am so... Appreciative. I know "thankful" is a word that people use a lot. Or blessed. And I certainly am both of these.

But I am appreciative. I am appreciative of my perspective. I am appreciative that all of the pieces to my puzzle ... fit. I feel like being "appreciative" kicks it up a notch. It implies that one has been on the other side of a situation and knows how tough things can be.

I appreciate that God has trusted me with these four amazing kids.

I appreciate that The Blondes' dad has moved back and that we have the good relationship we have now.

I appreciate that my parents are close enough to get down here in a day and that the kids have grandparents and other family within seven minutes of them.

I appreciate my partner: A man who understands my values, adores my Blondes, and sees this life a lot like I do.

That, as I have learned, is rare. And it takes work.

And he appreciates my efforts and challenges me to always be just a little better, all the while, making me feel like the smartest, most capable and beautiful woman in the world. 

I love that about him.

What a fantastic Mother's Day.

Cheers, mamas!!

Blissfully Overwhelmed

You know those people who say, "I like to be busy"?
I'm totally one of those people.
I love to have things going on and scheduled. When I open up the calendar app on my phone, seeing little dots on dates makes me feel quite important.
You can imagine how thrilled I have been these last couple of months and how much I'm looking forward to the months ahead.

We can officially say “We get married this month!” (WOOOOOOOOO HOOOOO!!!!)

Samma has Kindergarten Round-up this coming week and in two weeks, Logan will be walking into his new classroom at his new school! (We got a lot of great advice and are starting him in April so he makes some friends before summer vacation)

House Construction: Phase One is in full swing, Joe's house is covered in sawdust and little bits of sheetrock. He is very handy and we are doing what we can ourselves.

It is our lofty goal that all four kids have their own bedrooms the week after Easter!

Joe is rocking his new job and is crazy busy with that... My job has been awesome and busy--Can you believe I've been here almost a year???

In a few weeks, we will have Sam in soccer on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Logan in baseball on Mondays and Wednesdays and Samma and Max playing on the same soccer team... Also Mondays and Wednesdays. Oh--and there will be about a month in there where Samma also has dance on Wednesday nights--scheduling glitch involving Dots not being placed on my calendar. Long story.

We'll figure it out, though. Dance culminates on May 20th after her recital.

(...Ironically, this is also the weekend of the Fargo Marathon where Joey and I will be running the 10k in Jodi's honor... Buuuut, again, we'll figure it out. Probably.)

I am just so ... Happy. 

And, with our lives going a million miles an hour .... I am Content.

I get to marry one of the most amazing men in the world.

We are getting married outside (weather permitting) with just our parents, siblings and kids in attendance. Nothing fancy. It's just for "us."

And that is so perfect.

The plan was also to have a reception in July. I was beyond excited about this. We put a hefty deposit down on a fabulous location in Minneapolis. We were making plans (read: Pinteresting) and (Joe was) making spreadsheets.

We were talking bands vs. DJ's, cupcakes vs. an actual cake and figuring out the logistics of Open bar for X Amount of time vs. Free wine and beer all night.

Not that these are not important things to be discussing...

But we came to the conclusion that they really paled in comparison to the real issues at hand: 

Making sure this move-in, re-arrangement and adjustment is as smooth and wonderful as possible for those four little stinkers. 

That is Job 1. 

And it has been going incredibly well. 

We do not want to ever drop the ball where they are concerned.

We are also, of course, moving The Blondes and me out of our house, putting an insane amount of both our stuff in storage (Anybody need... Anything?? Because we have two of absolutely everything. Seriously. Let us know what you want.) And we will begin our major summer construction project shortly. 

SO, we made the tough decision to not do a reception right now.

I know. 

Was I looking forward to partying the night away with some awesome and supportive people? Oh yes. Was I eager to show off my dance moves with my super sexy hubby? Uh huh.

I'll be honest, I am "mourning" the loss of the amazing vision I was cooking up in my head.

But when I brought up the possibility of maybe... not having this on our plate this summer... We were both relieved.

So, all y'all, consider yourselves officially Uninvited to the most amazing celebration that never was and know how absolutely thrilled we are with the incredible support we have received.

We will, at some point, celebrate this wonderful union with everyone.

Whether we have a big anniversary party or simply fly around the world until we have partied with each and every one of you, danced the night away and bought you appetizers and cocktails for an evening, we will celebrate with our loved ones.

But for now, we are going to put everything we have into our life Together:

Our marriage and our family, our house and this Next Chapter.

A PSA on Periods. Oh yes it is.

For those of you who thought this little blog was simply a forum for me to gush about my super wonderful, handsome, funny, thoughtful and mathy (Mathy--He is far better at math than I, thus making him "Mathy." This is a valid description because I came up with it and I am the "Wordy" one) hubby-to-be, reading this little gem will dispel that theory within the next couple of sentences.
Today, I am writing about a subject so far from romance (in fact, its very arrival has thwarted many a romantic evening/morning/nooner)... And so outside the scope of acceptable conversation topics, we use euphemisms to talk about it: Aunt Flo, Surfing the Crimson Wave, O.T.R. (remember that one??), Taking your monthly ride on the Bi-Polar Express... actually I just came up with that. You can use it.)
Fellas, you may want to print this out and put it somewhere special so that you can remind yourselves what happens 12 times a year to the women you love most of the month.
Here is the answer to the question you have tried to spit out for years but then stopped in favor of just pouring two glasses of wine (both for your lady) and rubbing her feet (Bravo, by the way, if I am speaking to you here. Seriously. Don't stop doing that. For those of you who have not been "this guy," Stop Sucking.)
"What is it like to have a period?"
Well, I am glad you asked. And you know what? I'm glad you're still reading. Because this is important. And I'll be honest, I giggled my way through four years of School Nurse/Health Class VHS tutorials whose genres ranged from musicals to horror flicks because I could never get past the footage of those granny panties with the seven-inch pad stuck to them.
But now, I am the educator.
So, I suggest you Super Absorb this information:
The days leading up to one's period, the PMS week, if you will, is not something to be covered in this short little lesson. No, these days are their own beasts and no two are ever alike.
There are only two common threads I have found in all my years of PMSing:
My breasts are huge and amazing. They really are. 
The other would have to be the insane cravings. These are not a myth.
I'm sorry, but a man will never know how delicious Cool Ranch Doritos are a couple days before your period. Chocolate tastes better, hell meat tastes better. I've always thought I retained water the days before my period, but I am pretty sure, I actually retain food. High-calorie, forbidden, salty food.
And I do not give a shit.
That is all I will say about PMSing.

If one woman says to another "What's up? You look kind of like shit." And the other woman says, "I'm on Day 1," the first woman knows.
Day 1 of your period is the worst.
Men, imagine it's Friday at 4:30. You have had a hell of a week at work, you have been up in the middle of every night this week with the kids' nightmares and pee sheets and not gone back to sleep and you have just picked the little turds up from school. They are fighting in the back seat, you're sitting in traffic and it's snowing out. Hard. Your windshield wipers are doing nothing but smear gravely snow across your windshield because your driver's side wiper needs to be replaced and you just haven't gotten around to it. The ass hat three cars in front of you must not have noticed the green "you can take a left now" arrow, because he waited four fucking minutes to do so and thus, you are stuck in the turning lane for another light, which means a few more precious minutes stand between you getting home and washing three ibuprofens down with a cold beer. The light at the end of your tunnel is that they are four and a half hours from bedtime and their mom, who has been gone for the past week, will be back next Thursday.
You're just ... uncomfortable.
You are fatigued & exhausted.
You're agitated, irritated, pissy and even though the last time you shed a tear was when your high school prom date made you go see "Titanic," (the theater was dark, but we know you wept silently) you are pretty sure you are moments away from a melt-down that, for some reason, you know in your heart of hearts is just going to happen.
Oh, and also, that dull lower backache you have had for the last three days has escalated to what can only be described as your bottom three vertebrae being fused together with shards of scrap metal and glass. Luckily, your intense stomach pains can distract you from this and you don't even feel self-conscious about the fact that you unbuttoned your pants after lunch and have been walking around that way for the entire afternoon.
True story.
I am not even being dramatic.
I will cry during commercials--and not just the Sarah Mclauchlin "Please stop abusing animals" commercials or those old iPhone Facetime commercials, but macaroni and cheese commercials... and commercials about whole-grain cereals coming from hard-working farmers.
I have sobbed my way through songs, People magazine articles and episodes of Scrubs.
It doesn't make sense.
I'll be honest: We hate feeling this way, guys.
Especially in front of you.
We know the cliched "Don't touch me, please hold me" paradox you are exposed to can be a bit ... much.
We really try not to be a bitch.
We try not to burst into tears.
And we even stop ourselves when we want to ask you for the third time if we look fat (sometimes we succeed, sometimes... not so much).

This is a frustrating time for us and no matter how supportive and wonderful you are, you will never understand. And that's fine.
This is all we ask: Just LOVE us. Don't smother us, don't look at us with those pity eyes and say "Not feelin so hot, huh?"
Just do this: Pour us a glass of wine, give us a kiss, take the kids out of the range of fire and maybe rub our feet (do NOT touch our stomachs. You have been warned.) Tell us we're beautiful (do not add "no matter what," by the way. You will not limp away from that).
Tell us we're amazing.
Make us feel like we're not falling apart.
Do not mock the situation--we will pick a fight and win. Even if we have to win by bursting into tears. And you will feel like an asshole. A confused, "what the hell just happened?" Asshole.
So not worth it.

Know that your loving lady will be back soon. In the meantime, baby us a little. Be that super sweet guy we gush to our girlfriends about. You will never, ever get more "points" than the points you get when you go above and beyond for your girl when she has her period.
Cue "The more You Knooooow" music.
Now, get up and get a cork screw.