I am a Young Mother (God help me!).

Name that movie...it's only the best movie of ALL. TIME.

MMMMMM!

I feel old today. The idea of being a young mother, when I was, well, young, was so appealing. For what reason I can't even remember. Because you stay young for about two days before the sleep deprivation kicks in and it's basically over at that point. You might as well be fifty two.
I am so desperate this morning. I'm ready to hit Macy's make-up counters and spend as much as five hundred dollars on firming face creams and anything else that promises me my face will not ever have a wrinkle or spot, that I will look eighteen forever and ever and ever.
On Facebook I look at pictures of childless friends, their dewy faces and bright eyes, and want to scream. And poke holes in their condoms.
Anyway, on a more domestic-June Cleaver-christian note, I am making apple pie with Ethan today. Our first apple pie, ever. It's in the oven now, just starting to fill my kitchen with the smell of cinnamon, and butter. It's a perfect day for apple pie: cloudy and cold. Well, it would have been perfect except Ethan decided to put a chunk (about the size of a baseball, more or less) of brown sugar in his mouth, right after I told him not to, so he won't be eating any apple pie. He looked like a guilty chipmunk caught in headlights who had just filled his cheeks with nuts for winter.
I am ready for the weekend with my husband. He works long days, and I pretty much think I am the shit for being such a great wife about it. Sixteen hour graveyard shifts? Don't even try to beat it. Unless, of course, your husband is in the military, in which case I will shut up now.
Daelynn has been in town. We went up to Graeagle, that magical place, and hung out with Chuy and his brothers. I LOVE it when I get to see them. They are so fun, they still have those bright eyes (come to think of it, they don't have kids), I love their accents, and their food (carne asada, pico de gallo, salsa) is as good as beer. Then on Tuesday Daelynn came in to town and we had our friends over, which between the four of us, there were (almost) EIGHT kids.
Eight beautiful, bobble head, big-eyed kids. They all look like us in one way or another. If it weren't perfectly natural and they way things are supposed to be, it really would be freaky. Little me's running around everywhere.
And I was reminded that friends are life, air, sunshine. Marriage is good, but hard. Kids, well, you know what I think about them today. But friends, friends are red wine after a long day. Friends are what keep me sane, keep life fun, remind me I am not alone, because, well, we all are young mommies, getting old together.