I don’t know what it is about me that attracts weirdness. It seems like every time I step outside of my house, I end up having an interaction with someone that leaves me thinking … “WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?”

Today I went to the gym to meet my friend Lesley for BodyJam. I dropped my kids off at the nursery and was sitting on a bench with a bunch of other women, minding my own business. I was checking Facebook on my phone when a complete stranger walked up and popped me on the leg with a towel. 

Strange Man: “No sexting at the Y.“

Me: “Excuse me?“

Strange Man: “I SAID, NO SEXTING AT THE Y.” 

And then he walked on down the hallway. The girl sitting next to me had eyes like saucers. I just sat there and stared at him. I hate it when I can’t think of something ridiculous to say when someone says something ridiculous to me. Let alone … pops me with a towel.

OMG, the more I think about it, the more mad I get. Look out, old man in the navy blue sweatsuit. You’re on my shit list now.

I just summoned up the courage to step on the scale … and I am three pounds from my pre-preggo weight! IAMSOEXCITED.

Armed with this knowledge, I went into my closet and proceeded to try on multiple pairs of jeans, none of which fit a month ago.

Verdict: I can officially wear jeans I wore before I got pregnant with TWO. Yes, there is severe muffintop. But that can be dealt with. I am so happy right now, I’m quite unsure what to do with myself.

Oh, wait. I do know what I’ll do. 

All I want out of this mommy gig is to turn out two respectful, helpful, God-fearing, brave, strong MEN. I realize this is a tall order. In fact, as I type this, my three-year-old is on the back porch spitting on the window, trying to get my attention.

If I manage to accomplish this task, it won’t be because of my mothering powers. I can’t make it through one single day without asking for God’s help. I’m not trying to shove religion down anyone’s throat … in fact, I am not a huge fan of “religion” at all. I am a fan of God though. Do with that what you will.

Today this happened. And I have to say, it really did my spirit a lot of good. 

The world already has too many men in it who are completely and utterly worthless. Whiners, crybabies, lazy asses, philanderers, egotists and moochers. I have issues that stem from a series of bad relationships … so I make it my mission every day to make sure I don’t add two more idiots into the mix.

We’ll start small. With the garbage can.

Dear Husband,

Today we celebrate the 30th birthday of a very special man.  You.

You make me mad. A lot. But it doesn’t really matter, because you also make me laugh harder than anyone else.

Our children’s faces light up when they see you. My stomach still flip-flops when we kiss. Like for real kiss, not like the peck that you give me when we’re in public. 

You and I have been through so much together … good, bad, and ugly. We made two beautiful children. That’s the good. We have been through losses and disappointments. That’s the bad. Sometimes I want to bake a cake just so I can shove your face in it. Sometimes I want to kick you really hard in the shin. That’s the ugly.

Life is beautiful and maddening and fun and terrible all at the same time. I’m so lucky that I get to share it all with you. You are truly the other half that makes me whole. Happy birthday, Robbie. You are a tall, furry gift to me.

Love,
Harmony

Have you read this blog post? It’s circulating among women all over the internet. A good friend of mine sent it to me, knowing I would love it. And when I say I love it … I love it.

I read it twice. I am now semi-obsessed with the author and her blog. On Sunday, I was sitting in the middle of Olive Garden with my parents and the baby and I was trying to tell them about it.

I got to the part where she talks about when she is older and her kids are grown, what she hopes to be able to say to the younger mom she sees in line at the store. And that’s when it happened. I LOST IT. Tears were just streaming down my face, right there in the middle of the restaurant. It was terribly awkward. I mean, my parents were fine with it but the other patrons were staring. I had trouble pulling myself together. And all I was trying to do was talk about this blog post that some chick wrote, I don’t know her at all, but it just really touched me. Because I think she GETS it.

I never cry. I mean, not normally. Like in my normal life, when I’m NORMAL. Right now, I’m not normal. I’m tired and overwhelmed and I just seem to cry a lot.

But seriously … it’s a really great article and if you’re a mom, you need to read it. Because yes, motherhood is very hard. But it’s worth the hard. And it’s nice for someone to acknowledge that.

Me: TWO, why won’t you sleep?!?!

TWO: Ah-goo.

Me: Oh. Okay.

Disclaimer: Just because I am at my wit’s end with TWO does not mean I don’t love being his mother. It simply means I’ll have something to hold over his head when he’s older.

So what you see here on your left is what it has come to. 

He’s fitful. I mean like really fitful. 

When he tries to go to sleep, he wiggles and wiggles and scratches the mattress and turns his head from side to side and eventually rolls over and scares himself. And screams. 

Then I turn him back over to his belly, and the process starts all over again. I have tried standing there and literally holding his butt down so he can’t roll over, but without fail when I leave the room, he turns right over and we start again. Sometimes it happens during his naps, but most often it happens at 3 a.m. and it makes me want to shoot myself.

As shown in this photo, this morning I attempted to wedge my son between the wall of his Pack N’ Play and a rolled up blanket … and when that proved to not be enough of a barrier (he shoved it out of the way like it was nothing), I added in a pillow from my bed. 

He’s locked in there good and tight. We’ll see what happens. I’d take a nap, but ONE is awake now and asking me for food. I’m fighting the urge to throw a pack of crackers at him and lock myself in my room.

Yesterday was kind of a hard day. I mean nothing really happened in particular, it was just that I ran out of patience at like 8 a.m. and as a result everything seemed to be a struggle. And so, I WELCOMED bedtime with great excitement. ONE was administered a bath and tucked into bed right on time. I closed his door with relief, sat on the couch, and zoned out for about 10 minutes. And then, I heard it.

Mommy? Moooooommy.

I thought that he was maybe thirsty or had a question or it was too dark in there. But as I opened the door, the smell of Vicks BabyRub smacked me in the face. My son was standing there in the dark, covered in it. I mean, covered with a thick layer. All over his face, in his ears and hair, and on his hands and arms. Seriously.

Then I saw the bed. And the stuffed animals. He was thorough, that’s for sure. He emptied that entire container and coated everything he possibly could. He got every last bit of it out. Every. Last. Bit.

Apparently, I left it on his dresser when I put him to bed. I guess he  just went crazy with it, but then freaked out when it started to burn. Thankfully, my mother helped me get everything cleaned up and that is probably the only reason why I didn’t completely LOSE. IT. I wish I’d taken a picture, but alas. I was concerned his skin was going to burn off.

The house still smells of Vicks, 16 hours later. My dad gave me a big hug afterwards and then started laughing hysterically. I tried to laugh. I could not. Maybe in a few days. But not now.

My parents seem to be enjoying our visit. Let’s see how they feel after a few more “incidents.”

(source)

I have been away from my home and my husband for about a week and I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just say it: I don’t want to go back. Quite frankly, if Husband’s birthday wasn’t this coming Friday I’m not sure WHEN I would return.

I have never not missed my husband and my home. I’m not sure what is wrong with me. It worries me, actually. So I emailed a friend of mine to tell her what I was feeling and to get her feedback. I said how much I love my husband, I mean I REALLY love him, but I don’t want to go home. I just want to stay here with my mother. And most importantly, should I be concerned?

Her reply: 

“NAH! You just have a really really good mother. I don’t know what that’s like. And I’ve had a LOT of girls who have good relationships with their mothers much prefer getting help from their moms than from their husbands. I just wonder what it would be like to need your mom…..that’s awesome. Doesn’t mean you don’t love him. Means you just have different needs right now. And that’s totally ok!”

And that was all the validation I needed. 

I will go back home in a few days. I’ll wash sheets and clothes and bake Husband a birthday cake. I’ll be so happy to see him. But when Monday rolls back around and he goes back to work, I’m really going to start missing my mother again.

For anyone who have children and are fortunate enough to live near family, you better show them your gratitude. Unless they’re crazy and/or screwed up and return your kids to you smelling of stale cigarettes. Then you don’t have to be grateful. But for the rest of you … you’re so lucky. Don’t ever take the help you have for granted. 

Dear Dentist’s Office,

Please stop calling me and leaving voicemails reminding me to reschedule the appointment I cancelled a year ago.

I am TERRIFIED of you.

I know oral health is important. And you are sweet to remind me of that. But … I just can’t. The only reason I saw you two years ago for a checkup and cleaning is because I had an arrangement with a friend of mine. We were both facing our fears. I went to the dentist, she signed up with an online dating service.

We both probably won’t do that again.

Thank you,
Harmony