Yesterday was not a good day. It hasn't been a good weekend.
I'm a young mom. I always WANTED to be a young mom. And honestly, I would have had my kids younger if I could.
Maybe they have aged me. That's OK. When I'm 30, my kids will be 6 and 4. And all these girls giving me a hard time now, will suffer ten fold at an older age.
We have these new neighbors. 3 girls moved in next door and are sharing the house as a digs. There's a lot more traffic, noise and activity next to our front door than there usually was (I'm literally grinding my teeth trying to be as polite as possible right now). I don't know how old the gals are, probably mid 20s. But they're real girls. They're giggling, high heels, short skirts, stumble-after-a-glass-of-wine girls. Awesome.
So yesterday they're having a party. Fine. We had one on Friday night, I don't care. Half-drunk girls kept knocking and shouting at the door for us to come over. After I'd just put the kids down for a nap. Obviously. I'd been up since 5am with almost no sleep, just got a break, was using it to clean the house and wash the dishes. As I'm standing elbow-deep at the sink, a girl bangs on the door and runs shouting loudly through my house, in a mini skirt and a bikini, to go ask my husband to go drink with them. Sigh.
I didn't even look up, just kept my eyes to the sink, curious to see how it would evolve, knowing that Sunday was gone.
So I carried on cleaning the house & tended to Benjamin the rest of the day, mostly in our nest.
Then another girl came in to the house to chat. Somewhere along the line she asked me how old Graeme and I were. I said 26. She was surprised. "But you're OUR age?" "Yes how old did you think we were... like 35?" "Well, yes.."
At that point, right there, a toddler on my lap and my shirt covered in yogurt.. my heart felt like it fell out my chest and landed under her shoe. I didn't even know this girl. I don't even know her name. But she was sitting on my couch, drunk, in a bikini.