When did my nice children get to be teenagers?

I kicked the two answering to that description out of bed at the crack of 10:40 and made them do some chores. They didn't complain too much (they had complained plenty the day before, so they were out of new excuses, I guess), however, they did fill my house with thumping bass and that talking pseudo-rap that passes as a melody line these days. Matt wants to know if our music sounded this bad to our parents. Maybe if it weren't cranked up to "11," I could stand to listen to it.

I used to put on my own music when it was time to motivate the children to do chores. Now he who puts on the music generally follows a might-makes-right pecking order. Noah started working on his chores first, so he popped in a Primary CD and picked up Legos to "Called to Serve" ("I like to work to the 'forward, pressing forward' part," he told me. Now, isn't that a nice boy? One day, he too will be fourteen.) Seth entered the room after eating his pancakes and bullied Noah into letting him put on a CD of his own, and then before I know it, Macon has started his chores, has hooked his itunes up to speakers and is blasting Offspring through the house. Six foot seven wins the music battle, every time.

As for the pregnancy update, the belly begins to catch up to the backside, and 2nd tri energy is keeping me going. The major downside for the whole condition is the short fuse, especially where tantrums are concerned. Is it not common knowledge that five-years-old is too old for an aisle-shaking fit at Walmart?? I have sworn not to take the child back there until she turns six. And she got no potato chips, either. Urk.