So, apparently I’m old. I have been happily oblivious to it until now. 

Yesterday I was at an event, and while waiting in line for food I noticed I was standing behind a girl I have seen several times but had never met. I had no idea how old she was exactly, but she was young. And I thought, “I’m young, she’s young … I should know who she is.”

I tapped her on the arm and said “Hi! I’m Harmony ... I have seen you a few times and I just wanted to introduce myself.” And she introduced herself and then I did that thing I do sometimes where I start talking and can’t seem to stop. I heard myself saying “Anytime I see someone young I feel the need to introduce myself, you know, we young people need to stick together …” and she started giving me a funny look. Then she asked me point blank, “How old are you?” and I knew I had gotten myself into a situation.

“I’m 32.”

“Oh … well, you look good for your age.”

As it turns out, she is 21.

I wanted to die.

All this time, I have been fancying myself to be youthful, when in fact, I am not. I am old and probably haggard-looking and I have two children and I am certainly no longer twenty-freaking-one. My newfound acquaintance did me a FAVOR. She reminded me of my place. 

It’s among the 30-somethings who talk politics and diaper bags. EW. 

I find the roughness of raising boys to be … unnerving.

Example: recently, ONE (4 years old) sucker punched TWO (1 years old) in the face. I mean he really got him good. I was standing right there when it happened, and it made me sick to my stomach. He got in major trouble, and thankfully his little brother recovered quickly. 

I did not. 

I may have had to take a mommy time out in my bathroom to pull it together while Husband handed out the spanking. Later, when I was talking to him about the horribleness of it all, Husband said “I’m actually really proud of both of them.” Then he went on to say that the hit was well-placed and powerful, so good for ONE. And TWO didn’t cry for long — he “took it like a man,” per Husband — so good for him as well.

It was then that I realized … CRAP. This is my life. This is what boys do. They fight. They wrestle. They are rough and tumble, and I can’t get in the way of that because if I do, my sons will grow up to be ninnies.

I cannot have ninnies for sons. 

I mean, if someone turns out unable to handle himself in a fight, I can’t let it be because his mommy didn’t allow him to learn. I have spent these first few years so focused on teaching my sons how to be polite, and eat properly, pick up their toys and dress themselves that I forgot it’s also important to give them the space they need to be BOYS. 

So as it turns out, I guess wrestling in the living room with Daddy has more worth than just male bonding time. He’s teaching them how to be men, and I can teach them how to be POLITE and CLEAN men. Our children learn equally valuable things from both of us … so easy to forget.

Next item on the agenda: teach them it’s not okay to punch for no reason. You have to at least give a warning (look out, sucka!) first. Heaven help us all. 

Today, while sitting in a parking lot in broad daylight, I definitely cut those pad things out of the dress I was wearing. With those tiny nail clippers.  I don’t know who saw and I don’t care. I wanted them OUT.

Later, I took my kids to ride the carousel at the mall. That’s pure terror you see there.
 

YIKES!!!!!!!

HELP!!!!

Maybe the kids didn’t love it, but it sure made Mommy feel better.

My scotch-taped-together phone finally kicked the bucket yesterday. Husband got himself a new phone, some sort of Samsung business, and I inherited his iphone. Somehow in the process of all of this, my phone contacts were lost.

When he told me the news, I came unhinged. And by that, I mean I started sobbing and saying “Now what am I supposed to do?!” Much like a person would if, say, their house burned to the ground. 

Now that it’s several hours later and I have recovered from the tragedy of lost phone numbers, I can’t decide if my reaction was horrible or horribly FUNNY. I cannot cope with life when I’m pregnant. I mean really cannot cope.

On the bright side … my newly inherited iphone takes great pictures, so you have all been spared from having to look at any more cruddy pictures from my old phone. May it rest in peace.

This has been a long week because of the time change. It is now 4:19 on Friday afternoon. I am listening to the sound of Goldfish crackers being scattered all over the kitchen floor, and I am just too tired to get up and do something about it.

Here’s what we have going on this week. Husband’s “mo” is really starting to get creepy.

TWO continues to sneak onto the fireplace hearth when I turn my back. 

Yesterday, he dug an old banana peel out of the trash and ate some of it before I could stop him. I failed to get a picture of that. I did manage to get a picture of Husband in his Angry Bird pajama pants, scrubbing out the oven last night. This has never happened before. My Husband has never, ever cleaned an oven to my knowledge. Ever. I really appreciated it.

And finally … I broke out my maternity clothes. They’re still baggy, but I feel so much more comfortable. Like I’m wearing unflattering clouds. Disclaimer: I spent a good hour on my hair to make it flat and smooth. This doesn’t happen easily, friends. It’s only fair that you know.

9 weeks.

Now that my children are smothering each other with blankets, I should probably step in. I‘ll leave you with this.

 Happy Friday!

Husband and I went tailgating last weekend, which is something we haven’t done together since we were dating. That was a long, long time ago.

Anyway, I’m pregnant and I had several emotional meltdowns during the day — one which included uncontrollable sobbing because I was SO HUNGRY — and overall it was probably a mistake for me to go in the first place. But I did, and we survived, and here are the pictures to prove it.

I won’t be doing this again anytime soon. Geaux Tigers!!

A Dairy Queen just opened up near my house.

I am in so. much. trouble.

Some kid at ONE’s preschool told him about “burning hellfires” yesterday. He also told him that the Devil lives underground and he’ll get you if you’re bad. First of all … poor kid. How does he know about burning hellfires?! I can’t imagine telling my 4-year-old that the Devil was going to suck him into hell if he’s bad. What kind of parent DOES THAT?

Secondly … why were the “burning hellfires” being discussed on the playground anyway? Aren’t preschoolers supposed to talk about bugs and boogers and superheroes?! That seems a tad philosophical for preschool. So when confronted with the question “Will the Devil get me, Mommy?“ I just told him NO – the Devil isn’t going to get him – and to please just PLAY and have FUN today! Be young and oblivious! Don’t talk about heavy things! To which he replied “Okay ...“

This afternoon when I arrived to pick him up, he was furiously digging in the dirt with a bunch of other kids. When I later asked him what they were looking for, he explained that they were looking for the Devil. Because he lives underground.

Awesome.

Hello, THREE!

ONE knows that “Mommy has a baby in her tummy” and he seems excited about becoming a big brother again. He gently pats my stomach and talks to it.

That kid loves babies.

I admit to having concerns about how on GOD’S GREEN EARTH we are going to handle three children. Our biggest worries are financial ones, though. We make too much money to qualify for any kind of assistance, but not enough money to live without constant concern. We always have just enough for necessities, and our bills are always paid late. We’re always scraping, always juggling … but somehow, we make it. It’s like a monthly miracle, honestly. I certainly can’t take credit for it.

Money is an important part of life, I realize. It protects and cushions, provides for and feeds. But it’s not everything. For Husband and I, it’s not what brings us happiness. There was a time when we thought that it did, but we were wrong. 

Today I am thankful for the things life has thrown at us, because through those experiences we have learned that as long as we have our health and each other, we’re good. We have been blessed with two beautiful children and now we have another one on the way … sometimes when I sit back and let that information sink in, I get overwhelmed because it’s yet another miracle. Three healthy children. That’s amazing.

Life is going to get CRAZY. We do not have a rainy day fund. Our car is too small to hold a family of 5. We have issues to work out. But let me tell you, I have been given three little people to care for and I will love the stuffing out of them with or without a savings account.

Election Day, 2012.

THE STUFFING, I tell you.

Guess what?!

We’re having another one! THREE is due June 14th, and I heard his precious heartbeat today. He waved his paddly arms and legs at me and I cried.

We love you so much already. I am convinced you’re a boy.