My son broke my nose and my husband thinks I'm fat

Wow, that's a catchy title, huh? Have you ever just had a day or night be completely Crap Bag? (Does anyone else remember the Friends episode where Mike was going to change his name to Crap Bag because Phoebe wanted to be Princess Consuela Bananahammock?)

I'd like to rewind the clock on this evening. We all went out to Espino's, a lovely little Mexican restaurant. The boys behaved relatively well. Griffin struggled a bit but he's at the age where sitting still is really hard.

I made the mistake of bringing up the impending home sale in conversation at dinner. That was the catalyst to a downward spiral of conversations that ended on the ride home with my husband telling me I've totally let myself go. I need to eat better and work out.

Of course, I was quick to remind him that he doesn't eat healthy or work out, but I believe his response was "but I don't need to." That got a good laugh out of me.

Later, after basking in this pool of positivity, I was cuddling with Cooper on the couch when he decided to do a flying Walenda over my lap and his foot kicked me square in the nose. I don't know if it's actually broken or not, although I heard a little click and saw stars there for a while. It made my eyes water! No blood, so maybe that's a good sign?

And then the Mexican pizza with shrimp I had for dinner isn't sitting well with me. It can't be the shrimp. Cooper picked them all off and ate them, so I pretty much ate cheese and crust. Actually, I had two or three little slices, but now I distinctly remember the man previously referred to as my husband saying he "saw me put away my fair share, too." Hmmm..... I see a theme here.

Good times, good times. Tomorrow's a holiday! Yay for dead presidents!