I Haz Ballz?

I realized a funny thing recently: I have balls. Maybe they grew after I had Mason? Maybe they are some sort of post-partum side-effect? Somewhere in the last year I became a hard ass. Somewhere between THE CRAZY and my wonderful little boy, I became a bad ass that helps my husband be a stronger woman  man. I mean, isn't it the nuturing, loving mothers that are supposed to jump in the car and circle the block while the fathers endure the nap-time protests? Aren't I supposed to curl up in a ball in the corner and rock back and forth while muttering something about Protective Services?

"What are you doing? Why did you just bring him back downstairs? IT IS NAP TIME."
"But he's crying, he doesn't want to take a nap now..."
"Too bad. Put him in his crib and shut the door. He needs a nap. He will go to sleep."

Yeah. That's me. The one without the italics.