Age Her Thirty Four Years and Add Pickle Juice

So this blog is a little about me and alot about being a woman in her thirties, a mom to all boys and the wife of a charming, workaholic redneck(love you honey!). Have you ever had one of those moments where you wonder, "What the hell happened to my fabulous?!" I do all the time. The college girls are looking younger, the cocktails are tasting more of survival and sanity than adventure and booty-shaking, and the tell-tale signs of actually, really being in my thirties--brow lines, grey hairs, the inability to accessorize with ease and the extremely upsetting and sudden appearance of back fat--remind me that I really have been around for three and 1/2 decades. But what I want to know is HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?! I don't feel that old and I just never really thought it would happen to me.
I am not complaining. I actually don't hate my life, but wha...?
So my sister called today and it has been a 'live thru this' kind of week for her. Her almost three year old son has been kicking some toddler ass and taking names in the form of throwing, hitting, beating his one year old brother and getting kicked out of the gym nursery. This was after he ran away twice at a kidnapper-friendly birthday party involving mazes and chaos. Man, I do not miss those days. They were hard. For all you girls out there with babies and toddlers. IT REALLY IS HARD, IT'S NOT JUST YOU!!! (And for those who have a strong-willed child, the ante is way up while our self confidence is way down.)I have vivid recollections of a twin slamming his head on the hard and filthy floor of the grocery store in full tantrum. Another of a different twin running out the door, escaping, and straight into oncoming, off-to-school-and-work-traffic while I had to chase after him (with the other twin on my hip) in a night gown that I hadn't realized was short until that exact moment. Don't get me started on the year we made NINE emergency room visits. It's the old saying about why God made them so stinkin' cute at that age...he had to so we don't kill them. Especially boys, they just have that natural ability to do the unthinkable at any given moment.
So when my boys got home today from school--Aussie and BB are six and Cole is eight--I gave them huge hugs remembering how thankful I am for their not being 2 anymore. Five minutes later, Cole threw pickle juice at Aussie, Aussie smeared frozen blueberries on Cole's new shirt and BB kicked Austin because he felt left out. Time marches--and kicks and fights--on.