Today has been a bitch. Husband is home sick and both kids have been cranky and pretty much awful. Don’t they know I have cooking to do?!

But there is a silver lining. My sweet friend mailed me a package, and in said package were Ginger Chews. 

Lifesaving.

My big kid may have slammed my little kid’s hand in the dryer, I may have handled something like 10 epic tantrums in one day, the cooking may not have started and both children may have been screaming all day …

BUT I AM NOT NAUSEOUS.

Guess who won’t be winning any cake-decorating awards this year?

 Gobble gobble.
 

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!