We are archaeologists, in search of the next great dig. In our travels we happened upon a small house located in Cumming were a family has rumored to live since 2003. In the midst of their daily lives they were suddenly engulfed in an avalanche of toys, books, baby clothes, and other such items due to an earthquake. A very intense, highly localized tremor, it exploded over their lives in July 2009. Those who speak of it will only whisper of the terror, "Twins...they have twins..." Supposedly the family may very well still be living in the location, but this rumor is unverified due to the high level of sediment and paraphernalia compacted around and through the home.
What follows is journal entries of our dig. Thus far we have been able to uncover and restore a garage to working order. Not only is there actual concrete flooring, we have discovered wall space and shelving. In fact, our careful reordering allowed us to determine that a vehicle of minivan proportions could actually fit in said garage, allowing the parents to put their children into the vehicle without incident in the event of precipitation or nosy neighbors intruding.
June 23, 2012: We have evidence which leads us to believe the materfamilias may be on her own today, the adult male having taken the children to an undisclosed location. Having found great success with the garage, we first chose to move on to the children's room. We found them to be surprisingly well maintained and spared the worst of the debris, although the room of the single child was covered in a layer of tissues...used tissues, unfortunately. Having decontaminated that room, we moved on to the bathroom shared by the children. After careful mopping of the floor and scraping of surfaces we were surprised to learn that green and dark brown were not their natural colors. Our successes encouraged us to move on to the laundry room. Again, we restored flooring to its natural color. Many interesting artifacts and hangers were recovered from behind the units that appear to be used to wash and dry...clothing, perhaps? Although the amount of glitter and rhinestones makes it hard to know exactly what is cleaned in this room. Perhaps the laundry fairy perished in here? No evidence of a grave...
June 24, 2012: Today we moved on to the kitchen area...the flooring appears quite similar to what was found in the laundry and bathroom. It at first had a darker patina, indicating it might be older than other surfaces of the house. Signs point to this being a room where the family would congregate for meal times, perhaps? It seems likely the family is not as germ conscience as some, although it is also possible in the struggle against the aftermath of the avalanche the materfamilias is no longer quite as particular as she was once rumored to be...Careful examination and archiving of the items on the shelving indicate...a food storage unit...a pantry? But yet, she has items that are food and cleaning related out in the garage...clearly having been nearly decimated by one natural disaster, she has determined not to face the same fate again. Perhaps she has morphed into some sort of sale-shopping, coupon clipping creature...
June 27, 2012: This is a most exciting day!! Yesterday's exploration of the back porch and family room proved uneventful. Today, however, we began searching for the long-lost master bedroom. It is said to be right around this side of the domicile. If we find it, it is possible we can learn more about this family! After gridding out the room for accuracy and ease of labeling we have begun sifting through the items. Carefully lifting clothes...gently removing toys...yes, this appears to be the post-multiples layer...By George! I think we've done it. Through perseverance and patience, it appears we've broken through to the pre-twins layer!!! Oh yes, what a discovery this is! Evidence of a single child still remains...Overwhelmed, overjoyed, and over-tired we pause to take a musical break before returning to our work.
I'm a SAHM of three girls...for now. My first daughter is my Journalist: 9 going on 30. The twins are 4, off to PreK, and pushing every limit they can. Some moms are totally cut out for the stay at home life. Me? It varies on any given day. Staying sane is of primary importance, and this is one of my attempts at doing so! Please note: I only use my daughters’ initials in posts – who knows how long this stuff will be on the internet? Thank you for respecting my decision!!
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Bless your heart...
The South does have some defining characteristics, which includes a number of phrases. My favorite is "Bless your heart." Not "cotton-pickin' heart," just "heart." For any Northern-ahs who might be reading this, I'll explain. "Bless your heart" is the Southern way of indicating that someone is...ah...less that capable or...hmm...intelligent, shall we say? It's about the nicest way of making someone feel two inches tall in a situation if used correctly and with the right Southern-belle accent.
It's Father's Day, we've finished breakfast, and it's time to shop for my DH's Father's day gift. We regret to announce the demise of our Foreman grill after almost 10 years of faithful service. Funeral services and announcements to follow. So hey, let's go to Walmart to see if we can get another one! It's Sunday. It's Father's Day. Oh sure, how could this be a bad idea? In we go. We get two baskets because the while the good people of Walmart may sell multiple items, they are unaware that people might HAVE multiple children! We check the Foreman grill section, but alas...the one we want is ONLY sold online. Of course, this is Walmart, and who can't use four or five...or nine...items from Walmart, even if they don't carry the actual item you needed in the first place. I love when they ask, "Did you find everything alright?" Seriously? They should ask, "Did you find the one thing that brought you in in the first place, or is this just all consolation shopping?"
I go to get in line, and, of course, there are four registers open with lines at least six people deep. The girls are having fits because they want to run and play, so my DH and I agree that he'll take the girls out to the van and I'll buy the items. Ah yes...parenting...when standing in a ridiculously long line at Walmart all by yourself becomes a mini-vacation...
As I'm standing in line I become aware of a younger couple behind me arguing in hissed tones. She's blond with short hair, trendy clothes, and flip flops. He's blond with a polo, golfing shorts, and boating shoes. He's pushing the stroller with the blond 18 month old boy who frankly couldn't care less. She's got the cart groaning with items. He stomps off and she stands there, debating her next move. Clearly she's not pleased with this turn of events, especially because we all DARE to be in long lines that prevent her from being where ever she's supposed to be right now! I hate to see people argue on holidays, but that's how life goes. Not to mention there are some REALLY good headlines on the tabloids...really? An alien? Married for how long?...
She gets in line behind me, and a moment later, taps me on the shoulder. I turn around, and she gives me her brightest smile. It must be a very bright smile - it requires her sunglasses stay on her face to protect her vision from the glare. "Hi," she says, "I was wondering if I could go ahead of you? It's Father's Day, and my husband is really upset that we're ruining his plans. It would mean so much to us if you'd just let me jump in front of you there."
Glancing over her incredibly full buggy...and my paltry nine items, I reply, "I understand how frustrating these lines can be! My husband took our three children out to the car to jump-start the getting out process. To be very honest, given that I have so few items and you have so many, I'm going to have to say no. But I'll be very quick - this cashier is moving very well."
In shock, she stares at me, raising her sunglasses to look me fully in the eye. Then the super-sunny smile (which causes another lowering of the sunglasses), "I know it's asking a lot, but like I said, it's Father's Day, and I just hate to cause him any stress on his special day. Father's really deserve special consideration on a day like today..."
OK, I'm sorry, let's try this again, lady. "Yes, they do. I'm so blessed to have such a special man in my life who is a wonderful father to our THREE children. I'm sorry, but I'm just going to have to say no."
Stumped at my willful determination NOT to recognize the very special situation that she, alone, is in, she raises her sunglasses to give me a wilting stare. Unfortunately, she's got a LOT of work to do on that stare...especially when employing it on a former high school teacher turned stay-at-home-mom. Never been a victim of my stare? Don't look too closely at the blog...I'm demonstrating it now. Uh-huh...see? Powerful. I return to my perusal of the tabloids...Nostradamus contacted HIM? Oh, there was a miscalculation...they really meant the world would end in 2022...unless they messed up again...
Fortunately, she's resourceful. Turning to the gentleman in the line next to us, she lowers her sunglasses, bathes him in the radiance of that self-proclaimed brilliant smile, and says, "Excuse me, sir, but I'm not sure if you heard my predicament." Of course he did! Aren't you E.F. Hutton's daughter? "It's Father's Day, and my husband just really wants to get on to his celebration. Do you think I could hop in front of you there in line and speed up checking out?"
The guy looks at her, shrugs, and says, "What? You think HE'S the only father stuck in Walmart on Father's Day? It's life. At least it ain't the E.R." Second degree burns! My wife smiled at me for too long and I couldn't find the sunblock!!
Astonished at our total inability to comprehend the magnitude of her situation, the lady pulls off her sunglasses and cries, "What the hell? Where's this Southern Hospitality I've heard so much about?!?"
Smiling, I turn back to her and exclaim, "Bless your heart! Haven't you heard? You're in the New South!"
It's Father's Day, we've finished breakfast, and it's time to shop for my DH's Father's day gift. We regret to announce the demise of our Foreman grill after almost 10 years of faithful service. Funeral services and announcements to follow. So hey, let's go to Walmart to see if we can get another one! It's Sunday. It's Father's Day. Oh sure, how could this be a bad idea? In we go. We get two baskets because the while the good people of Walmart may sell multiple items, they are unaware that people might HAVE multiple children! We check the Foreman grill section, but alas...the one we want is ONLY sold online. Of course, this is Walmart, and who can't use four or five...or nine...items from Walmart, even if they don't carry the actual item you needed in the first place. I love when they ask, "Did you find everything alright?" Seriously? They should ask, "Did you find the one thing that brought you in in the first place, or is this just all consolation shopping?"
I go to get in line, and, of course, there are four registers open with lines at least six people deep. The girls are having fits because they want to run and play, so my DH and I agree that he'll take the girls out to the van and I'll buy the items. Ah yes...parenting...when standing in a ridiculously long line at Walmart all by yourself becomes a mini-vacation...
As I'm standing in line I become aware of a younger couple behind me arguing in hissed tones. She's blond with short hair, trendy clothes, and flip flops. He's blond with a polo, golfing shorts, and boating shoes. He's pushing the stroller with the blond 18 month old boy who frankly couldn't care less. She's got the cart groaning with items. He stomps off and she stands there, debating her next move. Clearly she's not pleased with this turn of events, especially because we all DARE to be in long lines that prevent her from being where ever she's supposed to be right now! I hate to see people argue on holidays, but that's how life goes. Not to mention there are some REALLY good headlines on the tabloids...really? An alien? Married for how long?...
She gets in line behind me, and a moment later, taps me on the shoulder. I turn around, and she gives me her brightest smile. It must be a very bright smile - it requires her sunglasses stay on her face to protect her vision from the glare. "Hi," she says, "I was wondering if I could go ahead of you? It's Father's Day, and my husband is really upset that we're ruining his plans. It would mean so much to us if you'd just let me jump in front of you there."
Glancing over her incredibly full buggy...and my paltry nine items, I reply, "I understand how frustrating these lines can be! My husband took our three children out to the car to jump-start the getting out process. To be very honest, given that I have so few items and you have so many, I'm going to have to say no. But I'll be very quick - this cashier is moving very well."
In shock, she stares at me, raising her sunglasses to look me fully in the eye. Then the super-sunny smile (which causes another lowering of the sunglasses), "I know it's asking a lot, but like I said, it's Father's Day, and I just hate to cause him any stress on his special day. Father's really deserve special consideration on a day like today..."
OK, I'm sorry, let's try this again, lady. "Yes, they do. I'm so blessed to have such a special man in my life who is a wonderful father to our THREE children. I'm sorry, but I'm just going to have to say no."
Stumped at my willful determination NOT to recognize the very special situation that she, alone, is in, she raises her sunglasses to give me a wilting stare. Unfortunately, she's got a LOT of work to do on that stare...especially when employing it on a former high school teacher turned stay-at-home-mom. Never been a victim of my stare? Don't look too closely at the blog...I'm demonstrating it now. Uh-huh...see? Powerful. I return to my perusal of the tabloids...Nostradamus contacted HIM? Oh, there was a miscalculation...they really meant the world would end in 2022...unless they messed up again...
Fortunately, she's resourceful. Turning to the gentleman in the line next to us, she lowers her sunglasses, bathes him in the radiance of that self-proclaimed brilliant smile, and says, "Excuse me, sir, but I'm not sure if you heard my predicament." Of course he did! Aren't you E.F. Hutton's daughter? "It's Father's Day, and my husband just really wants to get on to his celebration. Do you think I could hop in front of you there in line and speed up checking out?"
The guy looks at her, shrugs, and says, "What? You think HE'S the only father stuck in Walmart on Father's Day? It's life. At least it ain't the E.R." Second degree burns! My wife smiled at me for too long and I couldn't find the sunblock!!
Astonished at our total inability to comprehend the magnitude of her situation, the lady pulls off her sunglasses and cries, "What the hell? Where's this Southern Hospitality I've heard so much about?!?"
Smiling, I turn back to her and exclaim, "Bless your heart! Haven't you heard? You're in the New South!"
Monday, March 12, 2012
The untapped potential of the hunter...
This morning I was jolted out of sleep by the sound of a loud emergency beep sound. Stumbling into the living room I find the TV on and the required weekly test of the emergency broadcast blaring into the initially quiet house. Yes, I was sleeping in - leave me alone. Realizing my husband must not have turned it off before he left for work for whatever reason, I walk over to the unit and push the round button, slightly larger than the rest, to discontinue usage. The remote control dependent may not realize this, but most electronics have this back-up fail safe somewhere on them called "POWER BUTTONS."
My DH forgets sometimes to turn off the TV in the morning. We've talked about it, and he's asked me to mention to him when he forgets because he wants to make sure he turns it off. I figure I can tell him when he gets home. No biggie.
He calls me today around lunch time to check in, and after exchanging pleasantries, he says, "Do me a favor and find the remote control, please?" Not having had time to turn on the TV, I say, "OK..." doing a quick scan of the room. I look on top of the coffee table, then I look AROUND the floor of the tabl-oh hey! Look at that! Remote on the floor!
"Found it!" I say happily.
"Where?" he demands.
"On the floor in front of the coffee table near the TV..."
"NO WAY!" he retorts, irritated. "That's not possible!" Ummm...and yet here it is in my hand..."I looked EVERYWHERE."
Refraining from responding, "Well, not EVERYWHERE," I say, "It probably just fell off. That's probably why you forgot to turn the TV off this morning. Was it a crazy morning with the time change and all?"
(Huffing from the other end of the line) "No, but I am telling you I looked. I know you think I never look, but I really did. It had to be under the table and the babies pulled it out or something..."
It's the age old issue: How do you get a man to look for something like the remote control? His solution is to look to this left, look to the right, check the coffee table...and then yell, "Honey? Where's the remote?" I mean, evolutionarily speaking isn't he supposed to be the hunter? Doesn't he kill the game and then provide for his family? But he can't find the remote? And then it dawned on me: he doesn't see it as wild game. If he did, he'd always know where it was. So that got me thinking...
What if I tied a piece of meat to the remote? I'm not sure if jerky would work, because it's not fresh enough. Lunch meat might have a similar issue. So tie a piece of meat to the remote. Can't you just picture it now? He walks in from work, then freezes...he smells something...some animal...the vestigial parts of his brain kick into gear. It's either prey, or a predator with a fresh kill...so he has to either kill it to feed it to his family, or protect his family from the predator...then steal the kill and use it to feed his family. Warily, he enters the family room, looking slowly from left to right. Instinctively crouched (and therefore slightly closer to the floor), he cautiously steps further and further into the room...it smells like it's coming from under the couch. Moving with great care he approaches the couch...slowly...slowly...WHAM! He throws the couch onto it's back while simultaneously snatching his prey! He's caught it! Look at him! He's providing for his family!! He's a mighty hunter!
Trotting into the kitchen, remote dangling from his hand, he tosses it before me on the island where I'm cooking dinner. "'Sup?" he says, casually. "Found the remote." Oh yes, proud of his accomplishment, he turns on his heel and heads to the bedroom to change clothes. And a Dos Equis. Because he may not always drink beer, but when he does...
OK, admittedly this has some flaws...some really GROSS flaws, but you have to admit, nature has already programmed him to hunt. All I'm doing is taking what nature gave me and making it pay off!
My DH forgets sometimes to turn off the TV in the morning. We've talked about it, and he's asked me to mention to him when he forgets because he wants to make sure he turns it off. I figure I can tell him when he gets home. No biggie.
He calls me today around lunch time to check in, and after exchanging pleasantries, he says, "Do me a favor and find the remote control, please?" Not having had time to turn on the TV, I say, "OK..." doing a quick scan of the room. I look on top of the coffee table, then I look AROUND the floor of the tabl-oh hey! Look at that! Remote on the floor!
"Found it!" I say happily.
"Where?" he demands.
"On the floor in front of the coffee table near the TV..."
"NO WAY!" he retorts, irritated. "That's not possible!" Ummm...and yet here it is in my hand..."I looked EVERYWHERE."
Refraining from responding, "Well, not EVERYWHERE," I say, "It probably just fell off. That's probably why you forgot to turn the TV off this morning. Was it a crazy morning with the time change and all?"
(Huffing from the other end of the line) "No, but I am telling you I looked. I know you think I never look, but I really did. It had to be under the table and the babies pulled it out or something..."
It's the age old issue: How do you get a man to look for something like the remote control? His solution is to look to this left, look to the right, check the coffee table...and then yell, "Honey? Where's the remote?" I mean, evolutionarily speaking isn't he supposed to be the hunter? Doesn't he kill the game and then provide for his family? But he can't find the remote? And then it dawned on me: he doesn't see it as wild game. If he did, he'd always know where it was. So that got me thinking...
What if I tied a piece of meat to the remote? I'm not sure if jerky would work, because it's not fresh enough. Lunch meat might have a similar issue. So tie a piece of meat to the remote. Can't you just picture it now? He walks in from work, then freezes...he smells something...some animal...the vestigial parts of his brain kick into gear. It's either prey, or a predator with a fresh kill...so he has to either kill it to feed it to his family, or protect his family from the predator...then steal the kill and use it to feed his family. Warily, he enters the family room, looking slowly from left to right. Instinctively crouched (and therefore slightly closer to the floor), he cautiously steps further and further into the room...it smells like it's coming from under the couch. Moving with great care he approaches the couch...slowly...slowly...WHAM! He throws the couch onto it's back while simultaneously snatching his prey! He's caught it! Look at him! He's providing for his family!! He's a mighty hunter!
Trotting into the kitchen, remote dangling from his hand, he tosses it before me on the island where I'm cooking dinner. "'Sup?" he says, casually. "Found the remote." Oh yes, proud of his accomplishment, he turns on his heel and heads to the bedroom to change clothes. And a Dos Equis. Because he may not always drink beer, but when he does...
OK, admittedly this has some flaws...some really GROSS flaws, but you have to admit, nature has already programmed him to hunt. All I'm doing is taking what nature gave me and making it pay off!
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Round and round we go!
So the day of C's birthday party with her friends dawned. If you read my post about her actual birth-day (March 9), you can imagine my apprehension. I felt the need to dig in and hunker down in preparation of making it through the day. In fact, it wasn't an easy night.
I spent most of Saturday baking cupcakes. C decided she wanted cupcakes, but she wanted them arranged in a design. After discussing it with her, I realized she wanted the cupcakes to be arranged into a shape and have a design and message that incorporated all the cupcakes. I was a little concerned, because unlike some of my friends, I'm no cake artist. So I thought, what works better for a skating seventh birthday party than...a skate? I mean, surely this wouldn't be that hard, right? Anyone can make a boot, wheels, etc. So I whip up a cupcake batter that comes out quite light and fluffy (if I do say so myself) and proceed to figure out how the heck I'm going to do this. Having never used fondant, I opt for more pedestrian materials, and finally arrive at chocolate covered mini donuts for wheels and red peel-apart licorice to make the string.
We come home from Mass, and I figure I can just frost it, pop on two wheels, cut up and slap on some licorice for laces, and then write a message across it....And four hours later I'm STILL struggling with frosting. That Cake Doctor knows cake...but she sure as shootin' ain't got NO idea about frosting quantities! I had to remake a batch, the licorice won't cooperate. But I wrestle it all on there, and...uh...yeah...no...I guess that's a skate? Oh crap...I don't know. It's vaguely skate like all sitting there together, but what the heck is that red string stuff? Ok, turn that one, move that one...no, put it here...Seriously? It's 2 am? No...no, it's 3AM...Damn you DST...I pop the cupcakes carefully into their carrier, put on the lid - What the?!?!?? After all that hard work the lid is squishing the cupcakes! But I have no other carrier...Uncle! Uncle!! I'm going to bed!
It's not really 7AM already, is it? Ugh...So I take C off to Sunday school, which goes pretty well - the kids really got into the lesson about being quiet, and they were so disappointed when we tried to get them to play a game. "Can we just go back to being quiet," one of the more active, wilder kids asks. I guess the Holy Spirit was at work! Then we get home. Now, I need to back up a bit here. You see, while I was wrestling with frosting, DH went to bed about Midnight (no, really, midnight even by DST). He got up at 7AM to help me with C (read to drag my sorry butt out of bed). "Don't worry," he says, "I'll get the spaghetti sauce in the crock pot and do the dishes." I asked him to also sweep the kitchen. "And please don't go back to sleep," I ask. He responds with a dismissive snort...and I walk in at 11AM to find that the sauce is made, and less than a third of the dishes are done..."You went back to sleep," j'accuse. "Yeah...sorry." Oh, no biggie. We just have to make the goodie bags, clean the kitchen and family room, sweep and mop, get the balloons, pack up the supplies, keep the girls from destroying the house, find out if my family has directions...and we have a luxurious 2 hours in which to do it. Sure, honey, why don't you put up your feet and have a coke, too. PLENTY of time.
It took 2 1/2 hours, and a lot of bullying and browbeating, but we did it. Ladies - a tip: be sure to whack him where the bruises don't show. NOT THERE! Geez! What is it with you people?!? Now it's off to the skating rink! Oh goodie, us and eight hyper children between the ages of 6 - 8. I'm oh so excited. What the heck did I sign on for? C has skated twice in her life, and it wasn't a happy experience either time. The babies have NEVER skated - we're still working on the whole running without tripping thing. Skating? Thank goodness my parents will be there to watch the twins. Twin A is already mutinously stomping her feet and yelling, "NO!" at every turn while Twin B just shrieks and causes pandemonium. Did you read about my week? I'm pretty tense and worried.
As we are pulling in the lot, it dawns on me that I never asked the parents if they were staying or going. So either I don't have enough plates and pizza ordered, or I have far too many and no where near enough sleep for this venture...I admit it, I might have been turning the foothills into the Andes Mountains. It could have been a possibility. But hey, I was tired and my week was very stressful up to that point!
We get there at 2pm to pay and get in a bit of skating before C's friends arrive at 2:30. I haven't been on skates in years. I used to be pretty good - in elementary school we went almost weekly, and through middle school I learned how to crossover when skating around the corner, flip around and skate backwards, jump the little kids who splatted right in front of you, etc. These days...I was just going for upright without busting hard onto my a$$ in front of a roomful of small children. Not that I don't have enough padding, mind you, just that I was more worried about bruising my ego. Nothing fancy, but I was able to make left hand turns...OOH! I could drive for Nascar! Sorry, I digress. I got 15 minutes or so of skating in...I have the aching soreness of unused muscles to prove it! C was skating by means of hauling herself around on the wall. "Look, mommy, I'm skating!" she shouted joyfully as hand over hand she inched her way around the rink. "Yes, honey," I reply weakly, praying her friends don't leave her in the dust.
One by one her friends arrive. Two little girls from her class at school, some children from Sunday School, two little boys from her bus stop, and one surprise blast from the past from her PreK class. She was THRILLED! Let me just say, I was a fool to worry. First of all, almost all of the parents stayed, excited to see their kids on skates for the first or almost first time. C turned out to be one of the better skaters, and she got so much better each revolution. She was actually moving her feet in a near-fluid movement around the rink! Until one foot went forward, one went right, and down she goes! We also got very good at the "flip onto your KNEES and get up" trick. Two little girls were down-right speed demons. One little girl was desperately attempting to master the hand over hand wall inch, but let me tell you, these kids had a BLAST. These have to be some of the nicest, sweetest kids I've EVER met! I love every one of the kids individually, but as a group, they were just as wonderful. They worked together, they took turns, they said please and thank you...apparently having Venus and Jupiter showing so brightly in the night sky means the planets are really aligned in their houses!
And the parents! Almost all stayed, and they were WONDERFUL. Every single one pitched in, offered to help, gushed over my squished but semi-obvious skate cupcake rendering...You should have seen C. "Mommy, what is it?" she asks, puzzled. I take a deep breath, disappointed in my efforts. "Well, see the red stuff? See it's tied in a bow at the top...and look at the bottom, there's two brown wheel-shaped donuts," I reply, hoping to lead her to the answer. "Yeah, why only two? I wanted more donuts," she says, still baffled by the aquamarine mass before her. "Uh...check out the shape. Do you notice anything about the shape?" She and the little girl next to her crinkle their noses in serious concentration. "Well," her friend says, "it's kind of boot shaped." YAY! Come on...come on...don't crush me totally here..."Yes," I say hopefully, "and there's a bow tied at the top, and laces coming down, and two brown-" "OH MY GOD IT'S A SKATE!!!!!" the two girls scream joyfully at each other. C turns to the other kids. "My mom made the coolest skate!" she gushes. WHOOHOOO!! Thank goodness her imagination is better than my artistic abilities!
Well, it all turned out alright. The kids had a great time. Speaking of great time - Twin B put on this pair of Barbie skates that go over the shoe for little kids at about 2:15. She went EVERYWHERE! She skated all over the carpet, and then demanded to be taken out on the roller rink. You had to hold both hands and sort of drag her along, but she LOVED it! Apparently we have a skater in our midst. At 4:45 I was alerted to her leaving the skating rink when I heard angry screeching of a bird of prey losing its squirrel...oh boy, she was M-A-A-A-A-D about having to take off her skates. I think she thought she could wear them forever...Twin A? Oh, that poor little one was thoroughly overwhelmed by the noise, the kids, skating, you name it. But she perked right up after that cupcake and zoomed all over the place...until the inevitable sugar crash and melodramatic temper tantrum that came with it. Surprisingly they lasted until 9:00 tonight. I'm praying for them to sleep in tomorrow! We all agreed that skating is so much fun, and something we all need to do more often!
I had SO MUCH FUN with the moms and the kids. I even entered a skating race. I wasn't going to, but all the kids at her party stood there begging me. "Come on - you'll be so cool!" one girl said. Seriously? Like I could pass up that opportunity. In an effort to teach good sportsmanship I chose to allow my other competitors to totally kick my a$$...but I'm STILL COOL!
Stay tuned - we're letting C get her ears pierced for her gift. I'm sure that will produce serious drama!
I spent most of Saturday baking cupcakes. C decided she wanted cupcakes, but she wanted them arranged in a design. After discussing it with her, I realized she wanted the cupcakes to be arranged into a shape and have a design and message that incorporated all the cupcakes. I was a little concerned, because unlike some of my friends, I'm no cake artist. So I thought, what works better for a skating seventh birthday party than...a skate? I mean, surely this wouldn't be that hard, right? Anyone can make a boot, wheels, etc. So I whip up a cupcake batter that comes out quite light and fluffy (if I do say so myself) and proceed to figure out how the heck I'm going to do this. Having never used fondant, I opt for more pedestrian materials, and finally arrive at chocolate covered mini donuts for wheels and red peel-apart licorice to make the string.
We come home from Mass, and I figure I can just frost it, pop on two wheels, cut up and slap on some licorice for laces, and then write a message across it....And four hours later I'm STILL struggling with frosting. That Cake Doctor knows cake...but she sure as shootin' ain't got NO idea about frosting quantities! I had to remake a batch, the licorice won't cooperate. But I wrestle it all on there, and...uh...yeah...no...I guess that's a skate? Oh crap...I don't know. It's vaguely skate like all sitting there together, but what the heck is that red string stuff? Ok, turn that one, move that one...no, put it here...Seriously? It's 2 am? No...no, it's 3AM...Damn you DST...I pop the cupcakes carefully into their carrier, put on the lid - What the?!?!?? After all that hard work the lid is squishing the cupcakes! But I have no other carrier...Uncle! Uncle!! I'm going to bed!
It's not really 7AM already, is it? Ugh...So I take C off to Sunday school, which goes pretty well - the kids really got into the lesson about being quiet, and they were so disappointed when we tried to get them to play a game. "Can we just go back to being quiet," one of the more active, wilder kids asks. I guess the Holy Spirit was at work! Then we get home. Now, I need to back up a bit here. You see, while I was wrestling with frosting, DH went to bed about Midnight (no, really, midnight even by DST). He got up at 7AM to help me with C (read to drag my sorry butt out of bed). "Don't worry," he says, "I'll get the spaghetti sauce in the crock pot and do the dishes." I asked him to also sweep the kitchen. "And please don't go back to sleep," I ask. He responds with a dismissive snort...and I walk in at 11AM to find that the sauce is made, and less than a third of the dishes are done..."You went back to sleep," j'accuse. "Yeah...sorry." Oh, no biggie. We just have to make the goodie bags, clean the kitchen and family room, sweep and mop, get the balloons, pack up the supplies, keep the girls from destroying the house, find out if my family has directions...and we have a luxurious 2 hours in which to do it. Sure, honey, why don't you put up your feet and have a coke, too. PLENTY of time.
It took 2 1/2 hours, and a lot of bullying and browbeating, but we did it. Ladies - a tip: be sure to whack him where the bruises don't show. NOT THERE! Geez! What is it with you people?!? Now it's off to the skating rink! Oh goodie, us and eight hyper children between the ages of 6 - 8. I'm oh so excited. What the heck did I sign on for? C has skated twice in her life, and it wasn't a happy experience either time. The babies have NEVER skated - we're still working on the whole running without tripping thing. Skating? Thank goodness my parents will be there to watch the twins. Twin A is already mutinously stomping her feet and yelling, "NO!" at every turn while Twin B just shrieks and causes pandemonium. Did you read about my week? I'm pretty tense and worried.
As we are pulling in the lot, it dawns on me that I never asked the parents if they were staying or going. So either I don't have enough plates and pizza ordered, or I have far too many and no where near enough sleep for this venture...I admit it, I might have been turning the foothills into the Andes Mountains. It could have been a possibility. But hey, I was tired and my week was very stressful up to that point!
We get there at 2pm to pay and get in a bit of skating before C's friends arrive at 2:30. I haven't been on skates in years. I used to be pretty good - in elementary school we went almost weekly, and through middle school I learned how to crossover when skating around the corner, flip around and skate backwards, jump the little kids who splatted right in front of you, etc. These days...I was just going for upright without busting hard onto my a$$ in front of a roomful of small children. Not that I don't have enough padding, mind you, just that I was more worried about bruising my ego. Nothing fancy, but I was able to make left hand turns...OOH! I could drive for Nascar! Sorry, I digress. I got 15 minutes or so of skating in...I have the aching soreness of unused muscles to prove it! C was skating by means of hauling herself around on the wall. "Look, mommy, I'm skating!" she shouted joyfully as hand over hand she inched her way around the rink. "Yes, honey," I reply weakly, praying her friends don't leave her in the dust.
One by one her friends arrive. Two little girls from her class at school, some children from Sunday School, two little boys from her bus stop, and one surprise blast from the past from her PreK class. She was THRILLED! Let me just say, I was a fool to worry. First of all, almost all of the parents stayed, excited to see their kids on skates for the first or almost first time. C turned out to be one of the better skaters, and she got so much better each revolution. She was actually moving her feet in a near-fluid movement around the rink! Until one foot went forward, one went right, and down she goes! We also got very good at the "flip onto your KNEES and get up" trick. Two little girls were down-right speed demons. One little girl was desperately attempting to master the hand over hand wall inch, but let me tell you, these kids had a BLAST. These have to be some of the nicest, sweetest kids I've EVER met! I love every one of the kids individually, but as a group, they were just as wonderful. They worked together, they took turns, they said please and thank you...apparently having Venus and Jupiter showing so brightly in the night sky means the planets are really aligned in their houses!
And the parents! Almost all stayed, and they were WONDERFUL. Every single one pitched in, offered to help, gushed over my squished but semi-obvious skate cupcake rendering...You should have seen C. "Mommy, what is it?" she asks, puzzled. I take a deep breath, disappointed in my efforts. "Well, see the red stuff? See it's tied in a bow at the top...and look at the bottom, there's two brown wheel-shaped donuts," I reply, hoping to lead her to the answer. "Yeah, why only two? I wanted more donuts," she says, still baffled by the aquamarine mass before her. "Uh...check out the shape. Do you notice anything about the shape?" She and the little girl next to her crinkle their noses in serious concentration. "Well," her friend says, "it's kind of boot shaped." YAY! Come on...come on...don't crush me totally here..."Yes," I say hopefully, "and there's a bow tied at the top, and laces coming down, and two brown-" "OH MY GOD IT'S A SKATE!!!!!" the two girls scream joyfully at each other. C turns to the other kids. "My mom made the coolest skate!" she gushes. WHOOHOOO!! Thank goodness her imagination is better than my artistic abilities!
Well, it all turned out alright. The kids had a great time. Speaking of great time - Twin B put on this pair of Barbie skates that go over the shoe for little kids at about 2:15. She went EVERYWHERE! She skated all over the carpet, and then demanded to be taken out on the roller rink. You had to hold both hands and sort of drag her along, but she LOVED it! Apparently we have a skater in our midst. At 4:45 I was alerted to her leaving the skating rink when I heard angry screeching of a bird of prey losing its squirrel...oh boy, she was M-A-A-A-A-D about having to take off her skates. I think she thought she could wear them forever...Twin A? Oh, that poor little one was thoroughly overwhelmed by the noise, the kids, skating, you name it. But she perked right up after that cupcake and zoomed all over the place...until the inevitable sugar crash and melodramatic temper tantrum that came with it. Surprisingly they lasted until 9:00 tonight. I'm praying for them to sleep in tomorrow! We all agreed that skating is so much fun, and something we all need to do more often!
I had SO MUCH FUN with the moms and the kids. I even entered a skating race. I wasn't going to, but all the kids at her party stood there begging me. "Come on - you'll be so cool!" one girl said. Seriously? Like I could pass up that opportunity. In an effort to teach good sportsmanship I chose to allow my other competitors to totally kick my a$$...but I'm STILL COOL!
Stay tuned - we're letting C get her ears pierced for her gift. I'm sure that will produce serious drama!
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Beware the 9th of March...
My first child was born on March 9. She was expected on March 19, and we were secretly hoping for March 17, but my body just wouldn't take being pregnant a moment longer. Which is odd, considering how much I enjoyed being pregnant the first time. It was just the two of us, and she was like a special secret that only I got to share and nurture. Not that Daddy wasn't around or very excited, too, it's just...with the first child and the first pregnancy, it often is hard for the baby to become real for the husband until AFTER the child arrives. However, when someone is using your bladder as a trampoline, it's a lot easier for you to find it real. Pregnancy is a time of potential and hopefulness, and I did enjoy it. I was very upset to be induced 10 days early due to pre-eclampsia, but pretty excited, too. I would finally meet the newest love of my life, my first child.
Fast forward to her seventh birthday. Seven years. SEVEN. It's so hard to believe that the tiny baby I adored and snuggled is now over two-thirds my height! She's tall, slender, with dark blonde hair and such beautiful hazel eyes. She's funny, sassy, obnoxious, smart as a whip, sweet, infuriating, and wonderful. She loves her little sisters deeply and takes good care of them. She's a constant challenge, asking questions about the nature of life, love, God, sex, and everything in between! So as much as she drives me insane, she also brings such joy and richness to my life. It's natural, then, that I'd want to really celebrate her birthday!
I show up at her school today at 11:40 for lunch. I brought frosted sugar cookies and two-bite cupcakes. Why? Because someone in there has a peanut allergy, but can eat frosted cookies, and someone else has a gelatin allergy, but can eat cupcakes, and another has an egg-white allergy...I'm not knocking allergies - my kids are fairly dairy free. But it just doesn't seem like it was so complicated when I was a kid! However, the operative there being that I was the kid, so how would I know? I get there to find out they are eating in their rooms because of class pictures taking over the cafeteria. 21 hyper, excited kids anticipating a glorious treat and sugar high crammed into their classroom. Now C's teacher and student teacher are WONDERFUL women, but they are no match for the awesome power of twin toddlers! I don't think there was a kid in there who didn't get a hug and kiss from Twin B. Twin A was slightly more selective...not snobby, just selective...OK, so she didn't want to kiss or hug some of the boys. That's not such a bad thing. In fact, now that I think about it I'm a little worried about Twin B...They put on a Magic School Bus video - it was hard for me to watch the girls, because I wanted to watch the video! They kept wanting to sit with my mom in the rocking chair, which meant they kept blocking some of the screen. And the kids (especially the little girls) kept sneaking up to the front to steal hugs from the twins...and the girls kept pitching fits over who got to sit in C's lap..."Whisper sweetie. Yes, I know it's hard to shriek in a whisper, but just try it for mommy, anyways, pllleeeaaase?!?!?!?"
Finally the video is over, and a hush and rush of anticipation falls over the classroom. "Boys and girls, we have a special treat brought in by C's mommy today." WHOOOSH! That was the sound of the children shooting up to the front table to claim their treat. AAAAWWWWW!! That was the sound of the teacher denying said children and sending them back to their desks until they complete the ritual of singing BEFORE cramming. In all seriousness, they behaved very well, said please and thank you, waited patiently until everyone had a treat, and ate with pretty good manners. One little boy, who had asked me repeatedly if there would be cookies, came up and said, "Thank you. I got a cookie, but it's in here now (pointing to stomach). It will be here later (pointing to bottom)." Er, uh...yes...you're...welcome? I do like the kids in C's class. They are very sweet, and a number of them came up specially to thank me very sincerely both for bringing in the cookies and the twins. It was a very stressful time trying to manage everything, but a lot of fun, too.
We dash out, mom heads home for a break, and I take the girls to the Dollar Barn for needed birthday supplies. Yes, I bought things at the Dollar Barn. Deal with it. Good prices, nice selection...and the TINIEST aisles and shopping carts ever! I can't get a side-by-side or tandem stroller in, the leashes are useless because they practically stretch from the front door to the back...so I put one in the front seat of the tiny shopping cart and one in the back, and grab a hand basket for my purchases. Talk about an excruciating hour of my life!
So where to go for dinner? After much debate, she settles on Mellow Mushroom...in the Avenues...on a Friday night. Oh my...ok, are you sure honey? Yes, yes it must be Mellow Mushroom. So my husband had to come home early Thursday (he was asked to be home at 5:30 - he shows up at 4:30 "just to be sure"), and he feels he cannot take off early two days in a row. Please? Pretty please? It's Mellow Mushroom...on a Friday...The agreed upon time becomes 5:45. Oh have mercy...We'll make this work!
So we get there and find a HUGE line awaiting us. My DH, who got there a few minutes before us, informs us that there is a 40 minute wait. So Gapa, DH, and I take the girls to B&N to poke around while Gama hangs out and waits for the table. Whereupon we start discussing how we could have made our lives MUCH easier (ordering take-out pizza, going earlier to get a table and letting DH catch up, etc.), but of course, hindsight is always 20-20, so it's not helpful now. Twin B found the rack of stuffed puppets (squirrels, frogs, etc.) It was amazing! She couldn't stay away, but they totally freaked her out! She'd run over, ask to hug one, and then scream in fear as it came towards her. Wes Craven fan, anyone? Mimi pulled every book she could find off the shelf. I couldn't even begin to keep up with her. C informs us, "I REALLY want the Guinness Book of World Records." (Quick, honey, I'll watch the kids, you go buy the book...no, I did not say go buy it AND poke around in the computer section, which is on the OTHER side of the store, meaning you didn't just "happen to go by it.") We poke around and then go back after 35 minutes to wait for our table...in the world's smallest waiting area with two young children who absolutely REFUSE to sit in the seats that would keep them out from underfoot...
...35 minutes later, we realize it's just not going to happen, and decide to order take out. "Do you want to stay and wait for the pizza?" DH asks, "I'll take the kids home." "No, you hang out..." I say...oh why, why, WHY did I say that? I could have sat in the crowded craziness of Mellow Mushroom with my Dad for company. No, I choose to go with my Mom and THREE cranky, hungry, frustrated little girls. Well, to be fair - two cranky, hungry, whiny toddlers and a crazy, birthday-hyped, hungry, insane seven year old. We decide to run by Publix to pick up a veggie tray (C LOVES those), and Gama, in the true fashion of mothers everywhere, throws herself on the grenade, shouting, "Do you want me to stay in the car with the girls while you run in to get the food?" over the wailing and whining coming from the back...Oh yes, how I love my mother.
One veggie tray, bogo graham crackers (car snacks), and a pink birthday balloon later we dash back out and get the kids back to the house. By now the children are slightly mollified by the graham crackers and C is literally bouncing off every piece of furniture in the house. She gets pizza, a balloon, and a CARPET PICNIC, meaning we eat on the floor of the family room while watching a movie. She chose Tangled, which is easily my new favorite film. It truly it has it all! "Frying pans! I know - who knew?" I give each girl a tray with some veggies and some "white dip" (ranch). By the time my Dad and DH get home, I discover that once again, tonight is about learning lessons...namely, if you don't want white dip all over your clothes, your children's clothes, the carpet, the blankets covering the carpet, your mother, and various other pieces of furniture, do not give it to hyper, cranky, fussy toddlers who simply cannot sit still because they never took a nap. There. You can now say you've received your life lesson for the day. What's that you say? I should know better by now? Honestly, not really - the more I'm around the twins, the more I realize what an exceptionally well-behaved child C was as a toddler, and how lucky we were. The doctor swears the twins act more like what normal toddlers act like...
So three outfits, almost all of the tomatoes, and most of my nerves later, the pizza arrives. I will say that Mellow Mushroom makes some seriously good pizza. At first all is well, eating pizza in the family room while watching Tangled...until the twins take the volume of the TV as a personal challenge and begin talking OVER it. They wanted to sit in my lap...then Gama's lap...then Gapa's lap...then one goes to Daddy and one to Mommy...apparently we'd eaten enough and it was time for some sort of wild toddler-rule driven game of musical laps! So quick, let's do cupcakes and gifts! Did you know that you could REALLY stretch out opening your gifts? You can take nearly 7 minutes to unwrap a lightly wrapped book. I know, because I personally witnessed it! JUST RIP THE DA*& PAPER KID!!! I remember my parents saying that to me when I was younger...oh hush, I know, turn about is fair play and all that.
The twins go down about 10:30, with C dragging her feet and reluctantly following at 11pm. At 11:31 I started drafting this blog entry, and I see it's 11:58. There were a lot of rewrites. It is impossible to truly capture this day. We asked C anxiously if she enjoyed her birthday. She said, "I sure did! I got lunch with my family, everyone loves my sisters, I got to read in B&N, I got to have pizza on the carpet and cupcakes right afterwards without having to drive home, I got Tangled..." The list just continued. Thank goodness she sees nothing but the positive. I was so angry, stressed, frustrated, and tense trying to make the perfect birthday. I see screw-ups everywhere, and she sees nothing but fun and adventure. Yes, I know there's a lesson there. It's 12AM. I'd rather sleep than pontificate ;-)
Fast forward to her seventh birthday. Seven years. SEVEN. It's so hard to believe that the tiny baby I adored and snuggled is now over two-thirds my height! She's tall, slender, with dark blonde hair and such beautiful hazel eyes. She's funny, sassy, obnoxious, smart as a whip, sweet, infuriating, and wonderful. She loves her little sisters deeply and takes good care of them. She's a constant challenge, asking questions about the nature of life, love, God, sex, and everything in between! So as much as she drives me insane, she also brings such joy and richness to my life. It's natural, then, that I'd want to really celebrate her birthday!
I show up at her school today at 11:40 for lunch. I brought frosted sugar cookies and two-bite cupcakes. Why? Because someone in there has a peanut allergy, but can eat frosted cookies, and someone else has a gelatin allergy, but can eat cupcakes, and another has an egg-white allergy...I'm not knocking allergies - my kids are fairly dairy free. But it just doesn't seem like it was so complicated when I was a kid! However, the operative there being that I was the kid, so how would I know? I get there to find out they are eating in their rooms because of class pictures taking over the cafeteria. 21 hyper, excited kids anticipating a glorious treat and sugar high crammed into their classroom. Now C's teacher and student teacher are WONDERFUL women, but they are no match for the awesome power of twin toddlers! I don't think there was a kid in there who didn't get a hug and kiss from Twin B. Twin A was slightly more selective...not snobby, just selective...OK, so she didn't want to kiss or hug some of the boys. That's not such a bad thing. In fact, now that I think about it I'm a little worried about Twin B...They put on a Magic School Bus video - it was hard for me to watch the girls, because I wanted to watch the video! They kept wanting to sit with my mom in the rocking chair, which meant they kept blocking some of the screen. And the kids (especially the little girls) kept sneaking up to the front to steal hugs from the twins...and the girls kept pitching fits over who got to sit in C's lap..."Whisper sweetie. Yes, I know it's hard to shriek in a whisper, but just try it for mommy, anyways, pllleeeaaase?!?!?!?"
Finally the video is over, and a hush and rush of anticipation falls over the classroom. "Boys and girls, we have a special treat brought in by C's mommy today." WHOOOSH! That was the sound of the children shooting up to the front table to claim their treat. AAAAWWWWW!! That was the sound of the teacher denying said children and sending them back to their desks until they complete the ritual of singing BEFORE cramming. In all seriousness, they behaved very well, said please and thank you, waited patiently until everyone had a treat, and ate with pretty good manners. One little boy, who had asked me repeatedly if there would be cookies, came up and said, "Thank you. I got a cookie, but it's in here now (pointing to stomach). It will be here later (pointing to bottom)." Er, uh...yes...you're...welcome? I do like the kids in C's class. They are very sweet, and a number of them came up specially to thank me very sincerely both for bringing in the cookies and the twins. It was a very stressful time trying to manage everything, but a lot of fun, too.
We dash out, mom heads home for a break, and I take the girls to the Dollar Barn for needed birthday supplies. Yes, I bought things at the Dollar Barn. Deal with it. Good prices, nice selection...and the TINIEST aisles and shopping carts ever! I can't get a side-by-side or tandem stroller in, the leashes are useless because they practically stretch from the front door to the back...so I put one in the front seat of the tiny shopping cart and one in the back, and grab a hand basket for my purchases. Talk about an excruciating hour of my life!
So where to go for dinner? After much debate, she settles on Mellow Mushroom...in the Avenues...on a Friday night. Oh my...ok, are you sure honey? Yes, yes it must be Mellow Mushroom. So my husband had to come home early Thursday (he was asked to be home at 5:30 - he shows up at 4:30 "just to be sure"), and he feels he cannot take off early two days in a row. Please? Pretty please? It's Mellow Mushroom...on a Friday...The agreed upon time becomes 5:45. Oh have mercy...We'll make this work!
So we get there and find a HUGE line awaiting us. My DH, who got there a few minutes before us, informs us that there is a 40 minute wait. So Gapa, DH, and I take the girls to B&N to poke around while Gama hangs out and waits for the table. Whereupon we start discussing how we could have made our lives MUCH easier (ordering take-out pizza, going earlier to get a table and letting DH catch up, etc.), but of course, hindsight is always 20-20, so it's not helpful now. Twin B found the rack of stuffed puppets (squirrels, frogs, etc.) It was amazing! She couldn't stay away, but they totally freaked her out! She'd run over, ask to hug one, and then scream in fear as it came towards her. Wes Craven fan, anyone? Mimi pulled every book she could find off the shelf. I couldn't even begin to keep up with her. C informs us, "I REALLY want the Guinness Book of World Records." (Quick, honey, I'll watch the kids, you go buy the book...no, I did not say go buy it AND poke around in the computer section, which is on the OTHER side of the store, meaning you didn't just "happen to go by it.") We poke around and then go back after 35 minutes to wait for our table...in the world's smallest waiting area with two young children who absolutely REFUSE to sit in the seats that would keep them out from underfoot...
...35 minutes later, we realize it's just not going to happen, and decide to order take out. "Do you want to stay and wait for the pizza?" DH asks, "I'll take the kids home." "No, you hang out..." I say...oh why, why, WHY did I say that? I could have sat in the crowded craziness of Mellow Mushroom with my Dad for company. No, I choose to go with my Mom and THREE cranky, hungry, frustrated little girls. Well, to be fair - two cranky, hungry, whiny toddlers and a crazy, birthday-hyped, hungry, insane seven year old. We decide to run by Publix to pick up a veggie tray (C LOVES those), and Gama, in the true fashion of mothers everywhere, throws herself on the grenade, shouting, "Do you want me to stay in the car with the girls while you run in to get the food?" over the wailing and whining coming from the back...Oh yes, how I love my mother.
One veggie tray, bogo graham crackers (car snacks), and a pink birthday balloon later we dash back out and get the kids back to the house. By now the children are slightly mollified by the graham crackers and C is literally bouncing off every piece of furniture in the house. She gets pizza, a balloon, and a CARPET PICNIC, meaning we eat on the floor of the family room while watching a movie. She chose Tangled, which is easily my new favorite film. It truly it has it all! "Frying pans! I know - who knew?" I give each girl a tray with some veggies and some "white dip" (ranch). By the time my Dad and DH get home, I discover that once again, tonight is about learning lessons...namely, if you don't want white dip all over your clothes, your children's clothes, the carpet, the blankets covering the carpet, your mother, and various other pieces of furniture, do not give it to hyper, cranky, fussy toddlers who simply cannot sit still because they never took a nap. There. You can now say you've received your life lesson for the day. What's that you say? I should know better by now? Honestly, not really - the more I'm around the twins, the more I realize what an exceptionally well-behaved child C was as a toddler, and how lucky we were. The doctor swears the twins act more like what normal toddlers act like...
So three outfits, almost all of the tomatoes, and most of my nerves later, the pizza arrives. I will say that Mellow Mushroom makes some seriously good pizza. At first all is well, eating pizza in the family room while watching Tangled...until the twins take the volume of the TV as a personal challenge and begin talking OVER it. They wanted to sit in my lap...then Gama's lap...then Gapa's lap...then one goes to Daddy and one to Mommy...apparently we'd eaten enough and it was time for some sort of wild toddler-rule driven game of musical laps! So quick, let's do cupcakes and gifts! Did you know that you could REALLY stretch out opening your gifts? You can take nearly 7 minutes to unwrap a lightly wrapped book. I know, because I personally witnessed it! JUST RIP THE DA*& PAPER KID!!! I remember my parents saying that to me when I was younger...oh hush, I know, turn about is fair play and all that.
The twins go down about 10:30, with C dragging her feet and reluctantly following at 11pm. At 11:31 I started drafting this blog entry, and I see it's 11:58. There were a lot of rewrites. It is impossible to truly capture this day. We asked C anxiously if she enjoyed her birthday. She said, "I sure did! I got lunch with my family, everyone loves my sisters, I got to read in B&N, I got to have pizza on the carpet and cupcakes right afterwards without having to drive home, I got Tangled..." The list just continued. Thank goodness she sees nothing but the positive. I was so angry, stressed, frustrated, and tense trying to make the perfect birthday. I see screw-ups everywhere, and she sees nothing but fun and adventure. Yes, I know there's a lesson there. It's 12AM. I'd rather sleep than pontificate ;-)
Monday, January 16, 2012
Unabashed plea for sympathy
So if nothing else, you can't claim there is no truth in advertising today. I had a really crappy day, and I feel like whining for sympathy. The requirement for reading this is to leave a note telling me how picked on I am and how much you love me ;-) You are to keep all comments on just how pathetic and ridiculous I am to yourself!
My twins are teething, and sleep has been a ridiculously precious commodity. Last night I crashed at 11:30 with the intentions of getting up at 8:30 if it killed me. I know, you are already thinking, "Waah, waah, waah." It gets worse. Instead of getting 8 or 9 hours of interrupted sleep, I got 10 whole hours of straight, unadulterated sleep. No - this isn't where I want the sympathy. Stop mocking me and keep reading! It's 10am and I hear the babies making noise ('cause they aren't sure what to do with all this sleep, either. I'm hoping it will become addicting and they'll form a habit!). I have a hang-over like feeling from too much sleep (not that I really know what those are...). I groggily decide to make a cup of coffee, have breakfast, shower, and get the kids up. I'm on the way to the kitchen when the doorbell rings. Really? I'm in my PJ pants and a ratty shirt with slippers, and my hair is standing up on end (some of you can more fully appreciate that picture than others). I think, "Please be a package." There's an arm at the window by the front door. Craaaaaaaap....so I toss on a sweatshirt and open the door.
It's my down the street neighbor, who is in her 80s. She gives me that startled, shocked look older people do so well when your generation fails to live up to their standards. I manage a weak smile and say, "Hi, what's up?" She starts rambling out a story about how her phone will receive calls but not make them. I keep inviting her inside, but she just stands on the cold, cold step wandering through this story. Finally, just as I'm ready to shriek, "WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?!?" she says, "Can I come in and borrow your phone to call AT&T." I'm relieved that this is all she wants, because honestly I'm not ready for real life yet. I invite her in (this time she accepts), and go to grab my phone. I turn back to see the same look of distaste as she surveys my living room, which looks like nuclear winter after a toy store...
My neighbor, Jane, is a very nice lady. She's helped us with watching my cat, and I even borrowed a cup of sugar from her once (I felt so domestic - when do you ever hear of people borrowing a cup of sugar anymore?). I was very glad to be able to lend her a hand. She tries to dial, but she has a fake lense from where a cataract was removed, and after a moment I realized she couldn't see. I dialed AT&T, but she kept getting everything in Spanish. *Sigh* The coffee will have to wait. Mournfully I take the phone and call. Lo and behold, if you DON'T press one it stays in ENGLISH. Long story short (yeah, I know, I know) I manage to jump through their hoops but she can't get a tech until WEDNESDAY. This is her only phone - she doesn't have a cell phone. Not feeling good about this, I call back, and this time manage to wrangle an actual human. I explain that she is older ("Older - hell, I'm in my 80s" she retorts), this is her only phone, AND the $85 service charge for fixing something that is wrong on THEIR end doesn't seem fair, so could they lower the price some. Basically I end up in a phone conversation that we'd all agree can only happen to me. The guy says, "Well, since she came to your house for help, couldn't she just move in with you until her phone is fixed?" Ummmmm....I'm sorry? What?!?
I didn't yell - you'd be proud - but I was distinctly...erm...frustrated. I replied in the negative, and then he said, "Well, why don't we just sell her a cell phone plan." OK...fixed income...in her 80s...really, what's not to get here? More importantly, how does THAT fix the problem of her home phone? So I demand a manager. I get this lady who STARTS the conversation with, "Ma'am, I understand you are upset and have an issue you want to resolve, but you cannot abuse my staff like this, so let's watch your tone when talking to us." !?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? "Ma'am, I'm not abusing anyone, but when your staff's best suggestion for resolving a problem is having a neighbor move into my house or buy a cell phone despite her very limited monthly budget, I think you can agree that I might have a right to be frustrated." This said in a firm but not ugly tone. She says, "I agree that might not be the best of solutions, but it's not appropriate for you to yell at me." Oh honey...when I start yelling...trust me, you'll know...I demand HER supervisor, she tells me she doesn't have one, I ask if she owns AT&T, she says "no" in a puzzled tone, I demand her supervisor again, she insists she has to resolve this, I ask if this call is being recorded, she says "yes, more than likely," I say, "GOOD! Use it as a training call on how NOT to attempt to resolve issues! You've failed! GIVE ME YOUR SUPERVISOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
She gives me her supervisor. He listens to my semi-annoyed but polite retelling of the story, agrees to have a tech out tomorrow morning, agrees to give Jane a $20 credit for her troubles, agrees to waive the service fee, and says, "I have no CLUE why my people said those things, but you can guarantee there will be action on this!" Really? It took less than 5 minutes for his help. Jane thinks I'm insane because I finally DID start yelling, the babies are wailing in their bedroom, C is hovering around the doorway looking concerned, and I'm VERY annoyed!!! Caffeine. Please, oh please, caffeine... But fortunately, I can have a cup of coffee in peace now, right?
Ahahahaha!
Jane leaves. I get my coffee and plunk down on the couch to eat my cereal and decide our day. C creeps into the family room and begins hopping from foot to foot waiting for my attention. "Yes, honey," I sigh, "What can I do for you?" "Nothing, I just want to be near you." She practically wormed into my lap, gave a penetrating look to my cereal bowl, and said, "What's that, mommy?" For those of you who don't know, this is a prelude to her attempting to eat what's in my bowl, have another bowl of it, and then get me to cook her some more breakfast. This is my semi-expensive but doctor approved cereal which tastes like freaking cardboard but apparently must be really good because it's MINE. So I said, "You have already eaten breakfast, go clean your room and change clothes." Her eye-rolling, harrumphing, foot-stomping response told me I may not survive the teenage years. She's six. Don't I have four or five years before this becomes a reality?
OK...moving on. I got the babies up, fed them, showered, and decided, "Hey, let's go to North Point Mall to ride the carousel, have some pretzels, and play in the soft play area. It will be cheap, fun, and let the girls get some energy out." Yes, I knew it would be crowded and hectic, but I also knew it would be a real treat, and I might get something done when I got home while the girls crashed. But it was like they were doing their level best to punish me for trying to do something nice! I get the twins going the right direction, and C disappears. I find her (it's a three bedroom ranch - to where does she disappear?), and now - what the heck are the twins doing? B, where ARE your pants? A - put your shoes back on! C - OMG, where did that girl go again?!?
Finally I get them out the door, cursing my stupidity, to the mall, pause for a couple of minutes at the pressure-sensitive screen, and DRAG them bodily to the mall office where I find out....they no longer sell the $1 carousel coupons. It...I...uh...wha???? I'm not happy. I have $10. My day is timed out and based on this $10 which is to get us 3 coupons, pretzels, and a bottle of water. The Mall is denying my children their treat (yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm cheap! Deal with it). When I was a DINK, I never gave any thought to the carousel costing 2 bucks a pop. As a DIOK (I'll pause while you work it out...) it still seemed like a bargain. As a SITK (makes me sounds like I've changed religions) I am very cheap! Amazingly enough, I don't coupon very well primarily due to not being able to keep up with them, but if I can find a bargain I will! Now I have to choose between the carousel and the pretzel nuggets...and realize the pretzel nuggets ultimately have to win here...oh crap, I have to tell my kids. I filed a complaint in which I pointed out that to avoid the carousel I have to avoid the food court, so the merchants lose, too...feel free to go to the North Point Mall office and file a complaint, too.
I go out the door and look into the horrified eyes of my children. Horsey? Elephant? Mommy wouldn't REALLY deny us our favorite past time, would she? What will Ostrich do if the twins aren't there to ride her? My eldest timidly asks, "Are we going to ride the carousel?" The twins' eyes widen, breath held as they await my answer. "Well, honey," I reply, "I can't afford the carousel AND pretzels." "Oh that's OK!" she quickly exclaims, "We don't need to eat." Ummm, yeah, speak for yourself...and remember that AFTER the ride. I look at their hopeful faces, reevaluate my initial decision, and realize...yeah, they do need to eat, and ultimately these pretzels will bring a LOT more happiness. "NOOOOOOO!" twin A wails, falling prostrate as she realizes her beloved frog-with-a-duck-on-his-butt must forgo her visit today. "AAAAAAAGH!" twin B shouts, plopping to the ground in abject misery as she imagines her beloved horsey perishing from lack of a visit...Sweet C, who has up to this point gone out of her way to drive me completely insane today, looks at me, lower lip trembling, and says, "OK, Mommy, we understand. It's OK." Ohhhhh...that was the sound of my heart-strings being plucked...but I can't give in, even if I want to, because I can't let them think begging - oh, not the eyes....must...be...strong...
Dragging the twins BACK through the mall, we head to the Auntie Anne's pretzel store by the soft play area. Can I salvage ANY of this day at this point? I ask the girls to sit on the triangular tile around the three-columned supports. I turn back to see their heart broken faces - uh...oh, apparently we've forgotten our greek tragedy already. Pretzels come and are devoured, and we go to play. Oh joy! All is right with the world. I found advil and caffeine to quell the headache rising (you can buy a lot more with $10 than with $7), I found a table to sit at, and the girls are playing. For 20 blissful minutes I can sit, rest, and enjoy my kids...and then the twins are asking to leave and I'm trying NOT to strangle my 6 year old who is having a meltdown at having to leave the two little girls she's just met for the first time but she's SURE are her life-long BFFs! I drag them back to the car, lock everyone into place, and spend 25 minutes in one of the most ANNOYING drives home I've had in ages. Oh please oh please oh please oh please...let me get them home in one piece so I can put the twins down for a nap, install C in her room with the portable DVD player, and FINALLY find some peace in my day!!!!!!
We get home and I tell the girls "GO IN THE HOUSE RIGHT NOW!" They stand outside the van looking at each other and not moving. I turn back. "What exactly does RIGHT NOW mean to you?" I ask C. Apparently not much...She slowly starts shuffling towards the house, the twins in her wake. I'm digging around in the back to get cups, coats, etc. out of the car. I realize the girls are STILL on the driveway by the car, only 3 feet closer to the house. I pull my head back to chew them out - POW!!!! Slam the back of my head on the door...handle...thingy...where you hang your dry cleaning - you know - that...thing. All I want to do is scream every curse word I know and beat up the seat. How the heck could I do something so STUPID?!?!? But I can't. Why? The girls are STILL STANDING ON THE DRIVEWAY and little pitchers...big ears...ow ow owowowowowowow..."GO IN THE HOUSE!" I growl. They are off like shots. I get in the house, knowing I'm going to have a HUGE bump on the back of my head, and I think, "All I want right now is my MOMMY!" She's in Vegas, and I'm on my own.
I put the twins in their room and the phone rings. I am doomed to a life of not being able to have ANYTHING go my way...I go to answer it...It's my mom. She is calling from Vegas. She says, "I just had this feeling I really needed to call you right now." I love my mommy!! We spent over an hour on the phone. She assures me I'm a good mommy and a good girl, and that I have, indeed, had quite the rough day. It was a mental kiss on the forehead and a long-distance hug. It felt really good. While she and my dad talk to the girls, I can change clothes, grab a drink, and breath. I have such awesome parents. Even long-distance they can babysit my kids for a moment and give me a break.
*Sniffle, sniffle* *Whine* OK, go ahead - tell me how picked on I am!!
My twins are teething, and sleep has been a ridiculously precious commodity. Last night I crashed at 11:30 with the intentions of getting up at 8:30 if it killed me. I know, you are already thinking, "Waah, waah, waah." It gets worse. Instead of getting 8 or 9 hours of interrupted sleep, I got 10 whole hours of straight, unadulterated sleep. No - this isn't where I want the sympathy. Stop mocking me and keep reading! It's 10am and I hear the babies making noise ('cause they aren't sure what to do with all this sleep, either. I'm hoping it will become addicting and they'll form a habit!). I have a hang-over like feeling from too much sleep (not that I really know what those are...). I groggily decide to make a cup of coffee, have breakfast, shower, and get the kids up. I'm on the way to the kitchen when the doorbell rings. Really? I'm in my PJ pants and a ratty shirt with slippers, and my hair is standing up on end (some of you can more fully appreciate that picture than others). I think, "Please be a package." There's an arm at the window by the front door. Craaaaaaaap....so I toss on a sweatshirt and open the door.
It's my down the street neighbor, who is in her 80s. She gives me that startled, shocked look older people do so well when your generation fails to live up to their standards. I manage a weak smile and say, "Hi, what's up?" She starts rambling out a story about how her phone will receive calls but not make them. I keep inviting her inside, but she just stands on the cold, cold step wandering through this story. Finally, just as I'm ready to shriek, "WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?!?" she says, "Can I come in and borrow your phone to call AT&T." I'm relieved that this is all she wants, because honestly I'm not ready for real life yet. I invite her in (this time she accepts), and go to grab my phone. I turn back to see the same look of distaste as she surveys my living room, which looks like nuclear winter after a toy store...
My neighbor, Jane, is a very nice lady. She's helped us with watching my cat, and I even borrowed a cup of sugar from her once (I felt so domestic - when do you ever hear of people borrowing a cup of sugar anymore?). I was very glad to be able to lend her a hand. She tries to dial, but she has a fake lense from where a cataract was removed, and after a moment I realized she couldn't see. I dialed AT&T, but she kept getting everything in Spanish. *Sigh* The coffee will have to wait. Mournfully I take the phone and call. Lo and behold, if you DON'T press one it stays in ENGLISH. Long story short (yeah, I know, I know) I manage to jump through their hoops but she can't get a tech until WEDNESDAY. This is her only phone - she doesn't have a cell phone. Not feeling good about this, I call back, and this time manage to wrangle an actual human. I explain that she is older ("Older - hell, I'm in my 80s" she retorts), this is her only phone, AND the $85 service charge for fixing something that is wrong on THEIR end doesn't seem fair, so could they lower the price some. Basically I end up in a phone conversation that we'd all agree can only happen to me. The guy says, "Well, since she came to your house for help, couldn't she just move in with you until her phone is fixed?" Ummmmm....I'm sorry? What?!?
I didn't yell - you'd be proud - but I was distinctly...erm...frustrated. I replied in the negative, and then he said, "Well, why don't we just sell her a cell phone plan." OK...fixed income...in her 80s...really, what's not to get here? More importantly, how does THAT fix the problem of her home phone? So I demand a manager. I get this lady who STARTS the conversation with, "Ma'am, I understand you are upset and have an issue you want to resolve, but you cannot abuse my staff like this, so let's watch your tone when talking to us." !?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? "Ma'am, I'm not abusing anyone, but when your staff's best suggestion for resolving a problem is having a neighbor move into my house or buy a cell phone despite her very limited monthly budget, I think you can agree that I might have a right to be frustrated." This said in a firm but not ugly tone. She says, "I agree that might not be the best of solutions, but it's not appropriate for you to yell at me." Oh honey...when I start yelling...trust me, you'll know...I demand HER supervisor, she tells me she doesn't have one, I ask if she owns AT&T, she says "no" in a puzzled tone, I demand her supervisor again, she insists she has to resolve this, I ask if this call is being recorded, she says "yes, more than likely," I say, "GOOD! Use it as a training call on how NOT to attempt to resolve issues! You've failed! GIVE ME YOUR SUPERVISOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
She gives me her supervisor. He listens to my semi-annoyed but polite retelling of the story, agrees to have a tech out tomorrow morning, agrees to give Jane a $20 credit for her troubles, agrees to waive the service fee, and says, "I have no CLUE why my people said those things, but you can guarantee there will be action on this!" Really? It took less than 5 minutes for his help. Jane thinks I'm insane because I finally DID start yelling, the babies are wailing in their bedroom, C is hovering around the doorway looking concerned, and I'm VERY annoyed!!! Caffeine. Please, oh please, caffeine... But fortunately, I can have a cup of coffee in peace now, right?
Ahahahaha!
Jane leaves. I get my coffee and plunk down on the couch to eat my cereal and decide our day. C creeps into the family room and begins hopping from foot to foot waiting for my attention. "Yes, honey," I sigh, "What can I do for you?" "Nothing, I just want to be near you." She practically wormed into my lap, gave a penetrating look to my cereal bowl, and said, "What's that, mommy?" For those of you who don't know, this is a prelude to her attempting to eat what's in my bowl, have another bowl of it, and then get me to cook her some more breakfast. This is my semi-expensive but doctor approved cereal which tastes like freaking cardboard but apparently must be really good because it's MINE. So I said, "You have already eaten breakfast, go clean your room and change clothes." Her eye-rolling, harrumphing, foot-stomping response told me I may not survive the teenage years. She's six. Don't I have four or five years before this becomes a reality?
OK...moving on. I got the babies up, fed them, showered, and decided, "Hey, let's go to North Point Mall to ride the carousel, have some pretzels, and play in the soft play area. It will be cheap, fun, and let the girls get some energy out." Yes, I knew it would be crowded and hectic, but I also knew it would be a real treat, and I might get something done when I got home while the girls crashed. But it was like they were doing their level best to punish me for trying to do something nice! I get the twins going the right direction, and C disappears. I find her (it's a three bedroom ranch - to where does she disappear?), and now - what the heck are the twins doing? B, where ARE your pants? A - put your shoes back on! C - OMG, where did that girl go again?!?
Finally I get them out the door, cursing my stupidity, to the mall, pause for a couple of minutes at the pressure-sensitive screen, and DRAG them bodily to the mall office where I find out....they no longer sell the $1 carousel coupons. It...I...uh...wha???? I'm not happy. I have $10. My day is timed out and based on this $10 which is to get us 3 coupons, pretzels, and a bottle of water. The Mall is denying my children their treat (yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm cheap! Deal with it). When I was a DINK, I never gave any thought to the carousel costing 2 bucks a pop. As a DIOK (I'll pause while you work it out...) it still seemed like a bargain. As a SITK (makes me sounds like I've changed religions) I am very cheap! Amazingly enough, I don't coupon very well primarily due to not being able to keep up with them, but if I can find a bargain I will! Now I have to choose between the carousel and the pretzel nuggets...and realize the pretzel nuggets ultimately have to win here...oh crap, I have to tell my kids. I filed a complaint in which I pointed out that to avoid the carousel I have to avoid the food court, so the merchants lose, too...feel free to go to the North Point Mall office and file a complaint, too.
I go out the door and look into the horrified eyes of my children. Horsey? Elephant? Mommy wouldn't REALLY deny us our favorite past time, would she? What will Ostrich do if the twins aren't there to ride her? My eldest timidly asks, "Are we going to ride the carousel?" The twins' eyes widen, breath held as they await my answer. "Well, honey," I reply, "I can't afford the carousel AND pretzels." "Oh that's OK!" she quickly exclaims, "We don't need to eat." Ummm, yeah, speak for yourself...and remember that AFTER the ride. I look at their hopeful faces, reevaluate my initial decision, and realize...yeah, they do need to eat, and ultimately these pretzels will bring a LOT more happiness. "NOOOOOOO!" twin A wails, falling prostrate as she realizes her beloved frog-with-a-duck-on-his-butt must forgo her visit today. "AAAAAAAGH!" twin B shouts, plopping to the ground in abject misery as she imagines her beloved horsey perishing from lack of a visit...Sweet C, who has up to this point gone out of her way to drive me completely insane today, looks at me, lower lip trembling, and says, "OK, Mommy, we understand. It's OK." Ohhhhh...that was the sound of my heart-strings being plucked...but I can't give in, even if I want to, because I can't let them think begging - oh, not the eyes....must...be...strong...
Dragging the twins BACK through the mall, we head to the Auntie Anne's pretzel store by the soft play area. Can I salvage ANY of this day at this point? I ask the girls to sit on the triangular tile around the three-columned supports. I turn back to see their heart broken faces - uh...oh, apparently we've forgotten our greek tragedy already. Pretzels come and are devoured, and we go to play. Oh joy! All is right with the world. I found advil and caffeine to quell the headache rising (you can buy a lot more with $10 than with $7), I found a table to sit at, and the girls are playing. For 20 blissful minutes I can sit, rest, and enjoy my kids...and then the twins are asking to leave and I'm trying NOT to strangle my 6 year old who is having a meltdown at having to leave the two little girls she's just met for the first time but she's SURE are her life-long BFFs! I drag them back to the car, lock everyone into place, and spend 25 minutes in one of the most ANNOYING drives home I've had in ages. Oh please oh please oh please oh please...let me get them home in one piece so I can put the twins down for a nap, install C in her room with the portable DVD player, and FINALLY find some peace in my day!!!!!!
We get home and I tell the girls "GO IN THE HOUSE RIGHT NOW!" They stand outside the van looking at each other and not moving. I turn back. "What exactly does RIGHT NOW mean to you?" I ask C. Apparently not much...She slowly starts shuffling towards the house, the twins in her wake. I'm digging around in the back to get cups, coats, etc. out of the car. I realize the girls are STILL on the driveway by the car, only 3 feet closer to the house. I pull my head back to chew them out - POW!!!! Slam the back of my head on the door...handle...thingy...where you hang your dry cleaning - you know - that...thing. All I want to do is scream every curse word I know and beat up the seat. How the heck could I do something so STUPID?!?!? But I can't. Why? The girls are STILL STANDING ON THE DRIVEWAY and little pitchers...big ears...ow ow owowowowowowow..."GO IN THE HOUSE!" I growl. They are off like shots. I get in the house, knowing I'm going to have a HUGE bump on the back of my head, and I think, "All I want right now is my MOMMY!" She's in Vegas, and I'm on my own.
I put the twins in their room and the phone rings. I am doomed to a life of not being able to have ANYTHING go my way...I go to answer it...It's my mom. She is calling from Vegas. She says, "I just had this feeling I really needed to call you right now." I love my mommy!! We spent over an hour on the phone. She assures me I'm a good mommy and a good girl, and that I have, indeed, had quite the rough day. It was a mental kiss on the forehead and a long-distance hug. It felt really good. While she and my dad talk to the girls, I can change clothes, grab a drink, and breath. I have such awesome parents. Even long-distance they can babysit my kids for a moment and give me a break.
*Sniffle, sniffle* *Whine* OK, go ahead - tell me how picked on I am!!
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Medicine comes in all forms
We went to Publix today to get medication for one of my daughters. Twin A really seems to have this thing for chest colds. Takes after her mommy, I guess. So I'm waiting to drop off my prescription, and I see this lady pull away from the pharmacy counter with baby in her cart. She looks familiar. I turn back to the tech at the window, but my brain is still trying to place this woman. Then it hits me...
Last year about this time (because the twins have a thing for getting colds for Christmas) I was at this very same pharmacy picking up...probably the EXACT same medications, knowing twin A...I had all three girls with me. I go to pick up said medications, but the pharmacy is very busy, so we have to stand in line. The lady behind me is pregnant and glowing...probably having one of those pregnancies where she never got sick...I've read of those, never experienced it. She's humming and rubbing her belly until she notices my children. She starts out with the usual, "Twins?" We go through the normal exchange, including that our twins are spontaneous and not IVF, and then she says, "Three girls, huh? Are you going to try for a boy?"
Our standard response to this question is, "The first time we had one, the second time we had two...we DON'T WANT to know what happens the third time!" Most people laugh and back off. But my pregnant friend is clearly basking in the glow of creation, and feels it's her duty to propagate this joyous experience to the world. "Oh, come on!" she says, "Wouldn't triplets be fun?" Yeah, so's an unnecessary root canal...not saying triplets couldn't be fun (don't beat me, multiple mommy friends), but I already have the three, and my sanity hangs by tatters as is..."I just love being pregnant," she gushes. "I think having multiples would just be even MORE fun!"
I don't want to burst her...er...bubble here, but before I can respond, the gentleman standing behind her says, "You know, she's right - once you have multiples spontaneously, your chances for having multiples again goes up dramatically, especially if you are 35 or older." Sadly, I was only 34 at the time, but it's probably hard to tell the difference between 34 and 35 when someone looks very tired, so I can forgive him..."I say always quit when you are ahead!" he finishes.
Pregnant woman pauses for a moment, studying me. Get ready, folks..."Yeah, I guess if you are in your 40s..." Ummmm, excuse me, sweetie? He said 35, thank you very much. Ooooh, it's a good thing you are pregnant and therefore not in your right mind..."But still," she continues, enthusiasm returning, "I have a friend who had twins the first time, but she had one kid the second time." Yes, note the number of children there...2 plus 1...I'll wait...
The Gentleman chuckles, then says, "Trust me, it can happen."
Our little Pregnant friend: "Yeah, whatever. You should definitely try again. Seriously!! You should just go for it!!" What, here? Now? Should I just grab some random guy? Can I at least go home and get my DH first? Sorry, honey, peer pressure...
The Gentleman snorts, and says, "Oh, OK, well since you're the expert, she should just listen to you." I would not say such things if I were you...
SFX: *Click* And that was the sound of the switch that turns sweet little pregnant women into the raging hormonal beast... Rounding on him, she explodes, "What the hell would you know, huh? You're so smart!" She continues chewing him out for a moment, then, rage subsiding, spits out, "He's an idiot. What the hell would he know?"
Gentleman is taken aback, but recovers and smiles. Uh-oh...it ain't over, folks...He pulls out his wallet and says, "Here's a picture of my first grandchild." Flipping the wallet pics slowly, he says, "Oh, and here's a picture of my second and third grandchildren, the twins." He looks in this woman's face and smiles VERY broadly, then says, "And here is a picture of my FOURTH and FIFTH grandchildren, the other set of twins." Then he looks over at me and says, "Both sets are identicals." What was that whooshing sound? I believe that was the sound of my tubes tying themselves...
The Pregnant lady looks at the kids, then says, "Yeah, but how many kids do you have?"
Gentleman: "One."
Pregnant lady: "...Oh..."
Nonplussed, Pregnant lady pauses and considers her argument, then turns back to me. She snorts derisively, then says with considerably less confidence, "Well, so what. Don't let one moron ruin your decision." Thank you so much for your permission. I wasn't sure what to do, but now that I know I'm ALLOWED...The Pharmacist called her first - I think she wanted to just get her out of there.
Flashback to the present. The lady looked tired and considerably less chipper. A sick child (or just being sick) will do that to you. I said a quick mental prayer for her - hopefully she's doing well and so is her child. Sometimes babies really fight you when it comes to taking medication. Just remember "A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down!"
Last year about this time (because the twins have a thing for getting colds for Christmas) I was at this very same pharmacy picking up...probably the EXACT same medications, knowing twin A...I had all three girls with me. I go to pick up said medications, but the pharmacy is very busy, so we have to stand in line. The lady behind me is pregnant and glowing...probably having one of those pregnancies where she never got sick...I've read of those, never experienced it. She's humming and rubbing her belly until she notices my children. She starts out with the usual, "Twins?" We go through the normal exchange, including that our twins are spontaneous and not IVF, and then she says, "Three girls, huh? Are you going to try for a boy?"
Our standard response to this question is, "The first time we had one, the second time we had two...we DON'T WANT to know what happens the third time!" Most people laugh and back off. But my pregnant friend is clearly basking in the glow of creation, and feels it's her duty to propagate this joyous experience to the world. "Oh, come on!" she says, "Wouldn't triplets be fun?" Yeah, so's an unnecessary root canal...not saying triplets couldn't be fun (don't beat me, multiple mommy friends), but I already have the three, and my sanity hangs by tatters as is..."I just love being pregnant," she gushes. "I think having multiples would just be even MORE fun!"
I don't want to burst her...er...bubble here, but before I can respond, the gentleman standing behind her says, "You know, she's right - once you have multiples spontaneously, your chances for having multiples again goes up dramatically, especially if you are 35 or older." Sadly, I was only 34 at the time, but it's probably hard to tell the difference between 34 and 35 when someone looks very tired, so I can forgive him..."I say always quit when you are ahead!" he finishes.
Pregnant woman pauses for a moment, studying me. Get ready, folks..."Yeah, I guess if you are in your 40s..." Ummmm, excuse me, sweetie? He said 35, thank you very much. Ooooh, it's a good thing you are pregnant and therefore not in your right mind..."But still," she continues, enthusiasm returning, "I have a friend who had twins the first time, but she had one kid the second time." Yes, note the number of children there...2 plus 1...I'll wait...
The Gentleman chuckles, then says, "Trust me, it can happen."
Our little Pregnant friend: "Yeah, whatever. You should definitely try again. Seriously!! You should just go for it!!" What, here? Now? Should I just grab some random guy? Can I at least go home and get my DH first? Sorry, honey, peer pressure...
The Gentleman snorts, and says, "Oh, OK, well since you're the expert, she should just listen to you." I would not say such things if I were you...
SFX: *Click* And that was the sound of the switch that turns sweet little pregnant women into the raging hormonal beast... Rounding on him, she explodes, "What the hell would you know, huh? You're so smart!" She continues chewing him out for a moment, then, rage subsiding, spits out, "He's an idiot. What the hell would he know?"
Gentleman is taken aback, but recovers and smiles. Uh-oh...it ain't over, folks...He pulls out his wallet and says, "Here's a picture of my first grandchild." Flipping the wallet pics slowly, he says, "Oh, and here's a picture of my second and third grandchildren, the twins." He looks in this woman's face and smiles VERY broadly, then says, "And here is a picture of my FOURTH and FIFTH grandchildren, the other set of twins." Then he looks over at me and says, "Both sets are identicals." What was that whooshing sound? I believe that was the sound of my tubes tying themselves...
The Pregnant lady looks at the kids, then says, "Yeah, but how many kids do you have?"
Gentleman: "One."
Pregnant lady: "...Oh..."
Nonplussed, Pregnant lady pauses and considers her argument, then turns back to me. She snorts derisively, then says with considerably less confidence, "Well, so what. Don't let one moron ruin your decision." Thank you so much for your permission. I wasn't sure what to do, but now that I know I'm ALLOWED...The Pharmacist called her first - I think she wanted to just get her out of there.
Flashback to the present. The lady looked tired and considerably less chipper. A sick child (or just being sick) will do that to you. I said a quick mental prayer for her - hopefully she's doing well and so is her child. Sometimes babies really fight you when it comes to taking medication. Just remember "A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)