Day 24

My sisters and I want to make our husbands t-shirts that say I Survived Day 24.

"Day 24" is the phrase we coined to describe Ultra-Durko-PMS-Gone-Wrong. It took me years to decipher that my erratic monthly behavior generally fell around Day 24.

Here is a short list of possible symptoms:

• You hate your hair
• You hate your house
• You hate all your clothes
• You hate your husband and kids (but never your pet)
• You hate your life
• You cry like everything is a Hallmark commercial
• You cry because no one understands you
• You cry because nothing will ever get fixed
• You cry because you are out of Cheetos and chocolate and salty cheese
• You are unmotivated, sleepy, restless and Moody with a capital M

Day 24 is the explanation to crazy behavior. I can text my sister, "Just ate a can of tuna, a bag of pork rinds, and am on the lookout for a salt lick. p.s. Day 24" and I not only make sense to her, but I am not judged. She might even reply, "Chase it with a milkshake."

A memorable Day 24: After knocking my BareMinerals to the bathroom floor and losing 70% of the powder, I proceeded to bawl and be mad at myself for hours for wasting roughly $17 of make-up, and then snapped at Greg when he came home from work and told me my face looked nice.

Thankfully Day 24 only lasts a day. Then we are back to normal and the tragedies of yesterday seem laughable (to everyone except our spouses). There have been times when, at the end of my calendar Day 24, I raise my fists and cry to the sky, "Ha! I beat you! Today was awesome!", only to get backhanded by a Day 25 or Day 26 in Day 24 clothing.

The best remedy for Day 24 is my mom's marshmallow brownies, a treat equally liked by all five Durko kids and the baked good of choice for any Durko-girl inching towards the Dia del Muerto.

Download recipe here.