Never, ever say anything about your vagina in front of an almost-three-year-old.

This morning I had a flip-out. It seems like everything at this stage (31 weeks pregnant) just sucks. It’s hot, I’m tired/uncomfortable/sleep-deprived/pissed off and everything (EVERYTHING) is an ordeal.

Today’s ordeal revolves around my vagina. Basically I put off “trimming the bushes” as long as I could stand it, but finally I had to do SOMETHING. So I did. It’s not like I didn’t think I needed help. I did. And I’ve asked Husband to help me, but he is afraid to. HE’S afraid. What about ME? I’m waving a razor around blindly down there. But I digress.

My efforts left me feeling like things were somewhat back in order, but I am pretty sure I chewed the skin off in certain places. In fact, I know I did. As I waddled into the living room this morning, I announced that my vagina hurts.

Husband looked at me, looked at ONE, and back at me with a look that let me know that I had made a grave mistake.

We waited.

ONE: “What, Mommy?”

Me: “Nothing.”

ONE: “What you say?”

Me: “Nothing. Put your shoes on.”

ONE: “YOUR GINA HURTS? YOUR GINA HURTS, MOMMY???”

At this point Husband and I started laughing uncontrollably. There was no holding it in. I laughed so hard I cried. And once ONE realized whatever he was saying was freaking hilarious, he wouldn’t stop saying it. Gina, gina, gina.

It’s my own fault. But it’s FUNNY. Yes, son. My vagina is killing me. Now run along and play.

I’m not trying to bring you down. Really, I’m not. But I hit a new low last night when my child slapped me in the face.

We aren’t sure what is going on with him lately. I keep calling it a “phase,” because it eventually it WILL end. I mean, it has to. I’m not planning to raise my sons to be bossy, shouting, woman-slapping assholes. But apparently that is exactly what I’ve got on my hands at the moment, in the form of a 2-year-old.

He was angry at me because I took his cup away. He wasn’t drinking the water, he was pouring it out. On me. So I calmly took it away. He demanded for it back. I calmly said no. So, he yelled “NO!” and smacked me on the right cheek. It was a moment of out-of-control impulse that I assume is normal for his age (right?), but was obviously unacceptable on many levels.

As soon as he did it, he got this “ohshitwhathaveidone?!” look on his face.

I’m proud to say, I kept it together. One of us had to. I gave him a spanking, looked him in the eye and said “don’t you ever do that again.” And you know, I don’t think he will. He looked pretty traumatized.

The stress of parenting is wearing on me. Lucky for my family, I’m an internalizer. But I’m not sure that is good for me. I probably need to have a good old-fashioned cry, but I’m not a crier. I probably need to throw a screaming fit, but I’m not much of a yeller, either. I’m just a calm person, who happens to be 7 months pregnant with a husband who works long hours and a son who I feel like I can’t control. He runs from me and I can’t catch him. He throws himself on the floor and I can’t pick him up. My “condition” is really cramping my parenting style.

What to do.