This is a post that's been rolling around in my head for a day or so now, so I'm just going to put it out there all stream of consciousness like...
I think I might be some sort of mommy-aberration. Let me explain that a little.
I read. a lot. anything I can get my hands on. newspapers, magazines, books, blogs, cereal boxes. It's got words, i read it. can't help myself. So in my reading travels, I read a lot of mom-blogs. Some are twin mom specific, some are just parenting stuff. and what I want to know is, are they all full of crap, or am I some sort of freak of nature?
I don't want to spend 24/7 with my kids. they get on my nerves. they whine. a lot. the sound of children, especially mine, whining makes me want to get a shotgun and blow my face off. Don't get me wrong. My girls are funny and fun to play with. and when they are not hungry/ tired/ too hot/ too cold/ bored/ not overstimulated... etc they are awesome. But in reality, that is about 20 min in total each day. Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating, maybe it's really like an hour of total time. That means that there are roughly 9 hours of each blessed day that I want to rip my own ears off and eat them.
So, you say, get out more, hire a babysitter, do something for YOU. that sounds awesome. like rock on, dude! but seriously, let me explain what the fall-out from a night out does for me. I won't even touch on the hangover that would invariably occur from the appalling amount of alcohol I would need to consume to begin. I will only talk about having to surgically remove both children from my legs this morning and throw them into the living room, run to the door and slam it in their faces so that I could leave for work this morning. Why, you ask? I'm not entirely sure, but I'll hazard a guess it'd be because I had the audacity to go out after work on Wednesday and not get home in time to tuck them in. So all day yesterday I had C crawling up my leg doing her best to re-implant in my uterus and today they both screamed enough to make themselves choke and gag because I was, gasp, leaving them with the babysitter. The same one they've had since they were 7 months old.
They are going to preschool in the fall. I can only imagine how fantabulistic that's going to be. Not to change the subject entirely, but I also can't seem to fathom the idea of 'playdates' and the guilt some people apparently have about whether or not their preschooler has enough friends. They are 3. How many of you still speak to or even remember your preschool friends? Did you have any friends? are you now a social pariah? We didn't have playdates. I had a sibling. he was 3 1/2 years younger. and a boy. and we played together! I know, the horror! how could my mother have been so cruel? playdates are a way for mom's to get together and let their kids run amok so that you, the mother, have someone to commiserate with and you don't stick your head in the oven when roasting a chicken. Don't get me wrong, that's an important reason to schedule a 'playdate'. But don't for one minute think that your child's future happiness hangs in the balance.
I really think we all need to get over ourselves. I can't stand feeling like their entire future rides on my shoulders. Start those flashcards now, or your kids will be flippin' burgers and living with you at 38. And make sure you get in enough orchestrated, carefully un-constructed 'playdates' so you don't wind up chatting it up with barbara walters about what it's like raising sociopaths. And absolutely never ever lose your cool and scream like the mother f-ing banshee or you'll wind up footing the therapy bill for the attachment disorder that explains your adult-child's inability to form a lasting relationship. Which is really the reason why they are flipping those burgers and living with you at 38. It's all your fault. You didn't love them enough.
Let me clue you in... we ALL have issues. It isn't necessary mom's fault. and it certainly isn't because she served you pancakes for dinner. and burned them. twice.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Dear Internets,
Let me tell you how awesome my morning has been. no really. I'm being sincere. No, i haven't been body snatched... but the girls may have been.
Let's start at the beginning:
I went upstairs to get them up and when I opened the door, they both smiled at me and asked if it was 'just plain old mommy day' Fearing the worst, I braced myself and said it was Monday and Daddy had gone to work. no one cried. they even let me take their diapers and pj pants off. They collected which toys they wanted to bring down stairs and came down the steps.
I offered to make breakfast, but they wanted to have a tea party instead. I made a cup of decaf tea to pour into their tea pots so they could dispense it around and drink it. Then after that, they each ate a granola bar and a plum.
Next I wanted to clean up the house a little. I gave them each a feather duster and they dusted all their toys. Then picked them up so I could vacuum. and as I vacuumed, they followed me around and told the vacuum what a good job he was doing.
Finally they asked if they could relax and watch something. C picked a movie and they both sat on the couch.
Then, get ready for this... I took a SHOWER! alone. and shaved my legs. and no one came in crying or ripped the curtain open to see what I was doing in there. and I even told them where I would be. I even brushed and flossed my teeth.
Now I am sending out this amazed blog post while they finish the show. I'll make them some lunch and hopefully they'll eat it and then decide to take a nap. I wonder if I have time to mop the floor while they continue to be enchanted by whatever fairy came in the middle of the night and took pity on me.
Even Sam only bit me once this morning. and it wasn't even that hard. Should I be afraid of evil harbingers of doom? Or should I just silently pray that it will continue? Is there a light at the end of my tunnel? Or is it just the train coming?
Let me tell you how awesome my morning has been. no really. I'm being sincere. No, i haven't been body snatched... but the girls may have been.
Let's start at the beginning:
I went upstairs to get them up and when I opened the door, they both smiled at me and asked if it was 'just plain old mommy day' Fearing the worst, I braced myself and said it was Monday and Daddy had gone to work. no one cried. they even let me take their diapers and pj pants off. They collected which toys they wanted to bring down stairs and came down the steps.
I offered to make breakfast, but they wanted to have a tea party instead. I made a cup of decaf tea to pour into their tea pots so they could dispense it around and drink it. Then after that, they each ate a granola bar and a plum.
Next I wanted to clean up the house a little. I gave them each a feather duster and they dusted all their toys. Then picked them up so I could vacuum. and as I vacuumed, they followed me around and told the vacuum what a good job he was doing.
Finally they asked if they could relax and watch something. C picked a movie and they both sat on the couch.
Then, get ready for this... I took a SHOWER! alone. and shaved my legs. and no one came in crying or ripped the curtain open to see what I was doing in there. and I even told them where I would be. I even brushed and flossed my teeth.
Now I am sending out this amazed blog post while they finish the show. I'll make them some lunch and hopefully they'll eat it and then decide to take a nap. I wonder if I have time to mop the floor while they continue to be enchanted by whatever fairy came in the middle of the night and took pity on me.
Even Sam only bit me once this morning. and it wasn't even that hard. Should I be afraid of evil harbingers of doom? Or should I just silently pray that it will continue? Is there a light at the end of my tunnel? Or is it just the train coming?
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Bed Time Blues
I have decided to stop fighting with my kids about bedtime. I've been Sisyphus for far too long here trying to get my kids in bed by 7:30. For anyone who doesn't have children, this seems to be a no-brainer. Right? I mean, who fights with a 3-year old, let alone 2 of them. Just tell them to go to bed! Everyone who has kids has already sighed and poured a drink.
Here's what bedtime looks like for the un-initiated:
6:00pm: children run amok while I try to clean off the table and wrangle leftovers. When I say 'run amok' don't for a minute think I'm exaggerating. I may be prone to hyperbole (what?! I know. me! of all people. stretching the truth for entertainment) but Z actually does "running exercises" after dinner. If C won't join her in her mad dash from the front door, through the dining room, around the kitchen island and back, she just steals "stinky pink" blanket and C is forced to chase behind her crying and screaming for justice.
6:30pm: I inform children it's getting close to bath time and to please start picking up their toys. This causes immediate deafness and the inability to walk or put any toys away. Ever. When I threaten to throw away toys that have been strewn around the floor, I am cursed in secret twin language of 'Diggi'. Don't worry, even if you can't speak Diggi, you know when you've been told off. Much like Italian, there are hand gestures.
7:00pm: The Poseidon Adventure begins. Some of you may call this bath time. Make no mistake, people in the first three rows WILL be getting wet. and not just an errant splash or two. Sometimes whole buckets of water slosh over the side of the tub onto the "bather" I try to save this particular joy for when H is home or grandma's here, but it's summer and we're extra stinky when it's hot out.
7:30pm: Attempt to wrangle wet children out of the tub and into pajamas. Again with the immediate deafness and inability to walk or control any of your limbs. Also, there is the torturing of the cat to be done. No evening is complete without having to pry a retaliating furry blender off of someone's naked back, while someone else is kicking you in the chest to avoid the evil that is pajama pants.
8:00pm: (have you noticed that it's 2 hours since we started?) serve snack of warm (not too hot, not too cold, just right...) chocolate milk and graham crackers. sometimes this also involves a 'story' typically the three little pigs or bears or occasionally Rapunzel but with alternate endings that Daddy made up. Some of which I don't know.
8:15pm: Cajole, beg and finally scream at short people to get up the stairs. This is made more difficult by the aforementioned leg disorder. Then you start again by trying to herd them into the upstairs bathroom to brush the graham cracker crumbs out of their teeth. Eventually you grab them by the forehead and much like the old "flip-top head" toothbrush ads, manage to scrape most of the cookie off.
8:30pm: Finally fling children into beds. Sit on the floor in between two toddler beds and read two stories (as we cannot agree on ONE story, we must each pick our own) frequently stop reading to tell people to get back in bed, move their heads from in front of the book, or answer any myraid of questions about the illustrations.
8:45pm: Turn off light, turn on star-turtle, turn on sound machine and sit on one bed to sing a song. then sit on other child's bed to sing HER song. Give kisses, answer 16 more questions, hear 4 secrets and 1 "serious problem". Turn on ipod lullaby playlist, blow an even number of kisses from the door. attempt to sneak out of bedroom with out letting the cat in. Lock gate at the top of the stairs and trip down the first 3 steps as cat has been waiting for you. maliciously. He has not forgotten who's side you took during the cage match earlier in the dressing portion of your evening.
9:00pm: Fall on bed. Remember laundry. Write list of things you didn't finish doing. pour large glass of wine. fall asleep before you can drink it.
As you can see the entire thing takes me about 3 hours to do on my own. I swear that I am not stretching the times on this at all. So you tell me, save skipping the bath (which I do, quite frequently in the winter) how on earth could I get them in bed any earlier? So I've decided I don't care. what's the difference? they sleep until 8:30 or 9 in the morning and I can get up before them and start whatever I need to get done for the day. But for some reason, i feel like I am falling short in the "getting people to bed at a reasonable hour without screaming" department.
In an unrelated note, Sam the Man just heard H close his car door in the driveway and jumped up to greet him at the door. and possibly rat me out for my poor conduct. He's a vengeful bastard and I even gave him a mouse toy with feathers to play with today. Feathers, for God's sake! It's really not my fault that C threw it somewhere he can't seem to locate. She hides stuff at my mother's house that we're still looking for. She's good at that. But crap at remembering. Which is why I spend an inordinate amount of time scouring the house for Stinky Pink and find her in cookware, my sock drawer, a bin of dress up clothes, on the bookshelf and in my shoe.
And people wonder why I drink.
Here's what bedtime looks like for the un-initiated:
6:00pm: children run amok while I try to clean off the table and wrangle leftovers. When I say 'run amok' don't for a minute think I'm exaggerating. I may be prone to hyperbole (what?! I know. me! of all people. stretching the truth for entertainment) but Z actually does "running exercises" after dinner. If C won't join her in her mad dash from the front door, through the dining room, around the kitchen island and back, she just steals "stinky pink" blanket and C is forced to chase behind her crying and screaming for justice.
6:30pm: I inform children it's getting close to bath time and to please start picking up their toys. This causes immediate deafness and the inability to walk or put any toys away. Ever. When I threaten to throw away toys that have been strewn around the floor, I am cursed in secret twin language of 'Diggi'. Don't worry, even if you can't speak Diggi, you know when you've been told off. Much like Italian, there are hand gestures.
7:00pm: The Poseidon Adventure begins. Some of you may call this bath time. Make no mistake, people in the first three rows WILL be getting wet. and not just an errant splash or two. Sometimes whole buckets of water slosh over the side of the tub onto the "bather" I try to save this particular joy for when H is home or grandma's here, but it's summer and we're extra stinky when it's hot out.
7:30pm: Attempt to wrangle wet children out of the tub and into pajamas. Again with the immediate deafness and inability to walk or control any of your limbs. Also, there is the torturing of the cat to be done. No evening is complete without having to pry a retaliating furry blender off of someone's naked back, while someone else is kicking you in the chest to avoid the evil that is pajama pants.
8:00pm: (have you noticed that it's 2 hours since we started?) serve snack of warm (not too hot, not too cold, just right...) chocolate milk and graham crackers. sometimes this also involves a 'story' typically the three little pigs or bears or occasionally Rapunzel but with alternate endings that Daddy made up. Some of which I don't know.
8:15pm: Cajole, beg and finally scream at short people to get up the stairs. This is made more difficult by the aforementioned leg disorder. Then you start again by trying to herd them into the upstairs bathroom to brush the graham cracker crumbs out of their teeth. Eventually you grab them by the forehead and much like the old "flip-top head" toothbrush ads, manage to scrape most of the cookie off.
8:30pm: Finally fling children into beds. Sit on the floor in between two toddler beds and read two stories (as we cannot agree on ONE story, we must each pick our own) frequently stop reading to tell people to get back in bed, move their heads from in front of the book, or answer any myraid of questions about the illustrations.
8:45pm: Turn off light, turn on star-turtle, turn on sound machine and sit on one bed to sing a song. then sit on other child's bed to sing HER song. Give kisses, answer 16 more questions, hear 4 secrets and 1 "serious problem". Turn on ipod lullaby playlist, blow an even number of kisses from the door. attempt to sneak out of bedroom with out letting the cat in. Lock gate at the top of the stairs and trip down the first 3 steps as cat has been waiting for you. maliciously. He has not forgotten who's side you took during the cage match earlier in the dressing portion of your evening.
9:00pm: Fall on bed. Remember laundry. Write list of things you didn't finish doing. pour large glass of wine. fall asleep before you can drink it.
As you can see the entire thing takes me about 3 hours to do on my own. I swear that I am not stretching the times on this at all. So you tell me, save skipping the bath (which I do, quite frequently in the winter) how on earth could I get them in bed any earlier? So I've decided I don't care. what's the difference? they sleep until 8:30 or 9 in the morning and I can get up before them and start whatever I need to get done for the day. But for some reason, i feel like I am falling short in the "getting people to bed at a reasonable hour without screaming" department.
In an unrelated note, Sam the Man just heard H close his car door in the driveway and jumped up to greet him at the door. and possibly rat me out for my poor conduct. He's a vengeful bastard and I even gave him a mouse toy with feathers to play with today. Feathers, for God's sake! It's really not my fault that C threw it somewhere he can't seem to locate. She hides stuff at my mother's house that we're still looking for. She's good at that. But crap at remembering. Which is why I spend an inordinate amount of time scouring the house for Stinky Pink and find her in cookware, my sock drawer, a bin of dress up clothes, on the bookshelf and in my shoe.
And people wonder why I drink.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Things I will probably never understand...
overheard last night:
Z: Chlo, you be the monster and chase me!
C: oooooogly-gooooooogly
Z: aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhahahahahahaha!
On an unrelated note, I bought Samuel L Kitten a water fountain yesterday. He thinks it is preposterous. But he does enjoy strewing kitten-grass around the kitchen.
Z: Chlo, you be the monster and chase me!
C: oooooogly-gooooooogly
Z: aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhahahahahahaha!
On an unrelated note, I bought Samuel L Kitten a water fountain yesterday. He thinks it is preposterous. But he does enjoy strewing kitten-grass around the kitchen.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
6am giggle fest
I wish I could understand (or explain) what is so funny at 6am. C wakes up every morning between 5:30 and 6 and laughs, sings, plays with dolls in her bed, etc until she wakes Z up. Z tell her to 'knock it off' and they both go back to sleep. Then I wake them up at 8:30 or so.
WTF?
Is this the universe telling me to get rid of my baby monitor? or is it C's public service to wake me up so I can get a jump on all the fun chores, like laundry and dishes before she gets around to getting out of bed.
Does anyone else's child do this? It's like an extended snooze button. Apparently when they stayed at G-ma's this weekend, she did the same thing. G-ma looked over at her and C said 'oh, I was just stretching and yawning, I'm going back to sleep' and she did.
And this is what they look like when I wake them up:
WTF?
Is this the universe telling me to get rid of my baby monitor? or is it C's public service to wake me up so I can get a jump on all the fun chores, like laundry and dishes before she gets around to getting out of bed.
Does anyone else's child do this? It's like an extended snooze button. Apparently when they stayed at G-ma's this weekend, she did the same thing. G-ma looked over at her and C said 'oh, I was just stretching and yawning, I'm going back to sleep' and she did.
And this is what they look like when I wake them up:
Monday, July 12, 2010
wha?...huh?... ok
This weekend I told the girls that if it was nice weather we could go swimming in Grandma's pool. Of course it poured rain Saturday morning which made C inconsolable. But it looked like it was clearing up at naptime so I made a last minute decision to throw them (and H) into swimsuits and hit the pool.
Remember that time I was pregnant and went to the hospital with nothing packed? Yeah, like that. Just went to the pool. no change of clothes, no snacks, nada.
They REFUSED to leave grandma's. No arguments, they just decided they would have a sleepover party. With Grandma. and I could leave. or stay. meh.
H and I drove back to the house to pick up pjs, bed rails and a change of clothes. My poor little mini suv has never ever moved that fast. I think H was afraid they'd change their minds.
But they didn't. B/c grandma lets you stay up until 11pm and jump on all the beds. Somehow I do NOT remember "grandma" being quite so fun when she was just "mom"
Quite honestly, I didn't care if they never went to sleep. H and I went to the movies and then came home at 11:30 and talked loudly. in the dining room. naked. and mixed drinks. also naked. it was epic.
Sam was not amused. he would have called CPS to report us for gross negligence if he only had opposible thumbs. and they had a cyraphone for kitten. or urdu. not sure which he's more comfortable speaking on the telephone.
We went back over Sunday morning and swam in the pool again. And then tried to leave for naptime. There was a sit-in. They wanted to stay at Grandma's "forever and ever and never leave and swim everyday" So H and I left again. and ran copious errands. things you don't want to do with two chatty kids in tow. like buy an air conditioner or a car top carrier or drink a very large cup of iced coffee.
Z fell asleep at 7pm on H's lap on G-ma's couch. C made it to her car seat. I made it all the way home and was up at 1:30am catching up on my blog reading. oh and I reorganized my itunes. all 90G. Cause 20 oz of iced coffee at 5pm is an awesome idea.
Remember that time I was pregnant and went to the hospital with nothing packed? Yeah, like that. Just went to the pool. no change of clothes, no snacks, nada.
They REFUSED to leave grandma's. No arguments, they just decided they would have a sleepover party. With Grandma. and I could leave. or stay. meh.
H and I drove back to the house to pick up pjs, bed rails and a change of clothes. My poor little mini suv has never ever moved that fast. I think H was afraid they'd change their minds.
But they didn't. B/c grandma lets you stay up until 11pm and jump on all the beds. Somehow I do NOT remember "grandma" being quite so fun when she was just "mom"
Quite honestly, I didn't care if they never went to sleep. H and I went to the movies and then came home at 11:30 and talked loudly. in the dining room. naked. and mixed drinks. also naked. it was epic.
Sam was not amused. he would have called CPS to report us for gross negligence if he only had opposible thumbs. and they had a cyraphone for kitten. or urdu. not sure which he's more comfortable speaking on the telephone.
We went back over Sunday morning and swam in the pool again. And then tried to leave for naptime. There was a sit-in. They wanted to stay at Grandma's "forever and ever and never leave and swim everyday" So H and I left again. and ran copious errands. things you don't want to do with two chatty kids in tow. like buy an air conditioner or a car top carrier or drink a very large cup of iced coffee.
Z fell asleep at 7pm on H's lap on G-ma's couch. C made it to her car seat. I made it all the way home and was up at 1:30am catching up on my blog reading. oh and I reorganized my itunes. all 90G. Cause 20 oz of iced coffee at 5pm is an awesome idea.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
under pressure
ok, so I made a big bloggie announcement and now I have performance anxiety. I mean, what the hell am I supposed to write about now? The fact that my kids don't sleep...
last night they went in the bed at 8:30. notice I said 'in the bed'. not asleep. no, who needs sleep? they continued to talk and sing about the lady with the aligator purse until 10pm. Which would be when H came home. Apparently he has some kind of somnolent super power. As soon as his tires hit the driveway the blessed sounds of silence filled the house.
Until Sam started banging on the guest room/office/ craft room/winter seed nursery/gym (it's a small house people and I can cram a lot of shit into a small space) Z demanded that I close the door to aforementioned multipurpose room before she would walk past it to brush her teeth. Apparently yesterday, they were in there and found a picture of a bat. I'm still not entirely sure of what they are talking about, but according to Z, it's one scary MF.
where was I? Oh yes, sneaking up the 100 year old creaky ass stair case to free Sam the Kitten from certain death of being trapped in a room filled with miscellaneous crap and a seriously mean ass bat, the door to which had swollen to 4 times it's original size.
epic fail.
you will be happy to know it all turned out quite well as it's now 8:18am and Sam has been free to knock jewelry off my nightstand and then not eat his breakfast while I wait for the coffee to brew. But don't worry. C is upstairs singing and Z making airplane sounds as I'm sure Buzz Lightyear, Space Ranger is very busy flying around her bed.
When I go up there to get them, they will lay in bed or upon the floor and flail about proclaiming they are much much too tired to get dressed. This is precisely why I drink so much coffee. I've deemed it more responsible than gin.
last night they went in the bed at 8:30. notice I said 'in the bed'. not asleep. no, who needs sleep? they continued to talk and sing about the lady with the aligator purse until 10pm. Which would be when H came home. Apparently he has some kind of somnolent super power. As soon as his tires hit the driveway the blessed sounds of silence filled the house.
Until Sam started banging on the guest room/office/ craft room/winter seed nursery/gym (it's a small house people and I can cram a lot of shit into a small space) Z demanded that I close the door to aforementioned multipurpose room before she would walk past it to brush her teeth. Apparently yesterday, they were in there and found a picture of a bat. I'm still not entirely sure of what they are talking about, but according to Z, it's one scary MF.
where was I? Oh yes, sneaking up the 100 year old creaky ass stair case to free Sam the Kitten from certain death of being trapped in a room filled with miscellaneous crap and a seriously mean ass bat, the door to which had swollen to 4 times it's original size.
epic fail.
you will be happy to know it all turned out quite well as it's now 8:18am and Sam has been free to knock jewelry off my nightstand and then not eat his breakfast while I wait for the coffee to brew. But don't worry. C is upstairs singing and Z making airplane sounds as I'm sure Buzz Lightyear, Space Ranger is very busy flying around her bed.
When I go up there to get them, they will lay in bed or upon the floor and flail about proclaiming they are much much too tired to get dressed. This is precisely why I drink so much coffee. I've deemed it more responsible than gin.
Friday, July 09, 2010
re-reading old posts
I was checking out the ol' blog here and realized two things that I felt the need to share with the group:
#1 I used to be a hell of a lot funnier. even when the girls were little and I was sleep deprived. Maybe that's why I was funnier.
#2 the first year of twin babies was WAAAAAY worse than the semester of orgo, biochem and genetics with fly lab. Way worse. no comparison. even counting in my post-not-really-breakup with a certain round-headed freak. And that semester I spent a fair amount of time drunk and crying on a pile of shoes on the floor of my closet. Still better than first year of babies. And I think I was thinner.
I miss the spewing forth of my vitriol on this here blog-o-rama and I am trying to get back more. The problem I have is the lack of time blocks to do so. Obviously I had LOADs of time pregnant. that's all I had. time to ponder my expanding navel. And when the girls were little little, I had quite a few naptime breaks... once they napped of course. Now I think I have my life a little more structured (hold on, I just fell off my balance ball chair writing that. A LITTLE structured. I have a friggin' schedule taped to the desk broken down into 1/2 segments. and that's just MY schedule. 'cause I'm totally free-falling and not anal. at. all) and I have some actual real-live adult humans to talk with I am less desperate to connect here. which is sad because I heart you, innernets, and I would not have made it through that first year if I didn't have some of you to commiserate with.
So I'm trying to be back and I promise to work on the picture thing. You wouldn't believe what they look like these days. like people. tiny filthy spastic haired people. 'cause that's different than before.
#1 I used to be a hell of a lot funnier. even when the girls were little and I was sleep deprived. Maybe that's why I was funnier.
#2 the first year of twin babies was WAAAAAY worse than the semester of orgo, biochem and genetics with fly lab. Way worse. no comparison. even counting in my post-not-really-breakup with a certain round-headed freak. And that semester I spent a fair amount of time drunk and crying on a pile of shoes on the floor of my closet. Still better than first year of babies. And I think I was thinner.
I miss the spewing forth of my vitriol on this here blog-o-rama and I am trying to get back more. The problem I have is the lack of time blocks to do so. Obviously I had LOADs of time pregnant. that's all I had. time to ponder my expanding navel. And when the girls were little little, I had quite a few naptime breaks... once they napped of course. Now I think I have my life a little more structured (hold on, I just fell off my balance ball chair writing that. A LITTLE structured. I have a friggin' schedule taped to the desk broken down into 1/2 segments. and that's just MY schedule. 'cause I'm totally free-falling and not anal. at. all) and I have some actual real-live adult humans to talk with I am less desperate to connect here. which is sad because I heart you, innernets, and I would not have made it through that first year if I didn't have some of you to commiserate with.
So I'm trying to be back and I promise to work on the picture thing. You wouldn't believe what they look like these days. like people. tiny filthy spastic haired people. 'cause that's different than before.
Thursday, July 08, 2010
best laid plans
This heat wave is finally getting to us. I coukd barely even get them to watch a movie this morning.
Right now they are waltzing around the dining room together humming the dance theme from Cinderella. Cute, until you realize that this ultimately ends in someone running away. At top speed.
So much for the plan of early naptime & swimming @ Gma's pool. Sigh.
Right now they are waltzing around the dining room together humming the dance theme from Cinderella. Cute, until you realize that this ultimately ends in someone running away. At top speed.
So much for the plan of early naptime & swimming @ Gma's pool. Sigh.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)