Today, Husband made up a song titled “Harmony the Grumpy Preggo,” which goes along to the tune of “Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer.” 

I didn‘t find it amusing, because he made me mad while we were out shopping … and when I said I wouldn’t be speaking to him until he apologized for trying to make me push the umbrella stroller, carry our huge diaper bag, AND carry my large Icee … he said “I’m sorry you have such a big diaper bag.“

So YES, I am grumpy. I am not a pack mule. I am a woman who is glowing and pregnant and I reminded him a lot of men out there would bend over backwards to carry whatever I wanted them to carry. I had to remind him of every creepy creeperton who has seen me out and asked “You got a man?” Yeah, I got a man. A man who makes up songs about me. 

Pregnant Harmony is a DIVA. But Pregnant Harmony doesn’t CARE. She wanted to shriek in the middle of the mall, “Carry my shit and get me another Icee, before I go CRAZY ON YOUR ASS!!“ I didn’t say that, of course. There were children present. 

Instead I stamped my cowboy boot and said “I DON’T THINK SO,” and stared at him until he took the stroller and left me with the diaper bag and Icee.

And that, my friends, is how the song was made.