Oh Summer, How I Loathe Thee

Well, we're two days in to the first week of summer vacation, and I can definitively say, I freakin' hate summer break. I hate it with a fiery fury. Don't get me wrong- I like it in theory. A couple of months to take it easy, sleep in, no homework, no afterschool activities to rush to. In theory, it sounds lovely. In reality, it is not.
Summer around here means twins that have suddenly decided to wake up a full 45 minutes earlier than they normally do. It is 10 minutes later than I have to get up on school mornings, but 10 minutes doesn't count as sleeping in. So we get a very early start to a very long day. There's 10 times more noise, 15 times more fighting, 65 times more whining, and 147 times more mess. I'm not sure how just one extra child at home all day can create so much more chaos, but boy can he. And it's already 97* outside and it's only going to get hotter. That definitely limits our playing outdoors time, and that is not good. Not good at all.
So I hate summer vacation. I know there are mothers out there that love it. I can only assume that they have older children, better children, or they're taking some really good drugs. But as I dragged three hyper kids through the grocery store, two of them roaring like lions at every person we passed, all I could think was, "How much longer until school starts back???"

Hide and Seek

This is the card I got for Mother's Day. From two people!! The two people, in fact, that know me the best in the world. Yup, both my mom and Elizabeth picked it for me, so I'm kind of wondering what it says about my mothering style. Obviously, it celebrates my love of the ironic 50's housewife. I love that stuff as you can tell from my kitchen wall.......

And my refrigerator........ (If you want to actually see the stuff that's on there, just click the picture and it should open full size)

So they definitely hit the nail on the head when it came to my style. But then I start wondering, what does personal style have to say about mothering style? Am I a tired housewife that loves cocktails? Absolutely. Do I sometimes long for a moment's break from the children? Uhhhh, yeah........ Have I fallen into the lows of the mom on another card (once again given to me by Elizabeth) who's telling her preschool age daughter "Monica, darling, mix Mommy another drink".....? Not yet....

But I definitely admit that I have a worn-down-to-the-point-that-I-can't-fight-them-anymore-but-I'm-calling-it-laidback parenting style. I definitely live by the motto "pick your battles." So when it looks like I just don't care, I'm just harnessing my yelling and punishing for the times that they do seriously bad stuff. Because they do a lot of bad stuff. Really. A lot. And I fought them every time, well, I think DFCS might have to step in.

I try to get them on the major points. Don't beat people up (I'd prefer you not beat your brothers up, either, but let's work on keeping our violence contained to the house.) Say please and thank-you, and yes ma'am and yes sir (So that even people that think you're hellions will say, "Well, their poor mother's trying. At least they say please.) And finally, the one we're working on the most- Act decent and half-way human when we're out in public. (For God's sake, I don't really care how you act at home, but don't embarrass us in public. This is a small town and your grandparents live here!)

And after fighting the big fights, I don't have the energy for the little ones. So if they pull the books off the shelves, climb on the table, sneak into the refrigerator and eat an entire pack of sweet peppers (happened this afternoon), I tend to take a light approach. Pretty much anything that won't kill them or cause me great public shame and humiliation is tolerated- at least until it gets too obnoxious or out of hand. And I'm fairly tough to shame and humiliate, so that really sets the bar low.

And even with such low standards, I still spend entire days fussing at them (I told you. Bad stuff. A lot.) So imagine what it would be like if I really ran a tight ship? I'd have to go that whole Captain Von Trapp whistle route. Scary.....

So basically, yeah, I fit into that whole days of yore parenting demographic that loved their kids, took care of their kids, but let them entertain themselves a good bit of the time. I don't think that's a bad thing. Kids need to entertain themselves. And I'm lazy. And there are only so many times in a day that I can read books, or play Little People, or blocks, or kitchen. Hide and seek is starting to sound better and better.......

Mother's Day aka Things We Lost in the Fire

My Mother's day post will come in two parts. First, the one I planned to write:

It's Mother's Day, and I hope you've all taken a moment to tell your mothers how wonderful and special they are. I'm not just going to tell the moms in my life how wonderful they are, I'm going to blog about it, and tell the whole world (or the 10 or so people that will actually read this) how wonderful they are!
Matt and I are lucky. We have awesome moms. The kind of moms that are there for you, no questions asked, through thick and thin. And boy, are we thankful for that. There have been many, many times in our marriage where things have happened that we looked at and went, "Uh oh, what are we going to do?" Appliances have failed, enormous unexpected expenses have arisen, the kind of stuff that keeps you awake at night wondering how on earth you're going to handle it- and Pat has rescued us. More times than I'd like to admit, she has saved the day. But she's not just good for bailing us out of tight spots- she does so much for us. She babysits our boys and gives us much-needed nights out, she's looked after our pets, sponsored home-decorating projects, and given our boys and our family opportunities Matt and I couldn't have managed on our own. We love her, and we are truly grateful from the bottom of our hearts for all that she does.
And then there's my wonderful mom, who is my friend, confidant, therapist, advice guru, wise sage in all areas of etiquette and child raising. I go to my mom with every question, worry, triumph and failure. And so do my sisters. Whatever she did raising us, she must have done it right, because not every mom is completely revered by their grown children. But my mom rarely goes a day without talking to all three of us, usually more than once. And when I've got free time on the weekends, I'm usually spending it with my mom- there's really nobody I'd rather hang out with. Not because I'm that pathetic, but because she's that awesome.
So yeah, when it comes to moms, we are seriously blessed. We really hit the mom jackpot. It sets the bar high for us to follow. If our children love us when they're grown like we love our moms, we will have done something right!


So that's the sweet post I intended to write. But here's the true story of what occured this Mother's Day......

Part II- Things We Lost In the Fire....

Sinner that I am, I don't make it to church that often. But I was going today to help my mom. She had to do fellowship (a fancy church term for setting out the doughnuts and coffee before church) and my dad was going to be out of town. Paige and I didn't want our poor mother to be alone on Mother's Day, so we went to give her a hand. Things were going along swimmingly- the coffee was perking, the doughnuts and mini muffins were nicely arranged on trays- then Mom tried to heat up some water for tea....
It shouldn't have been that hard. There was a kettle sitting on the stove. Mom filled it with water and flipped on the stove burner. I went to set some trays on the table, and returned to the kitchen to smell burning plastic. "What's burning?" I asked, and we all turned to see smoke coming from the kettle and flames licking at the bottom of it. Holy crap, the kettle was on fire. Mom panicked (I won't tell you what she said, but it was definitely not appropriate for the house of the Lord.), yanked the burning kettle off the stove and threw it in the sink. But it was too late. Clouds of acrid white smoke were billowing into the kitchen, and there was a ring of charred, melting plastic smoking on the stove. Turns out, it wasn't a regular kettle. It was an electric one that sat on a hot plate, not on a stove. So the hot burner had melted the rubber bottom and burned the electrical wiring underneath it. Awesome.
It was inevitable that the smoke detectors would go off, and boy did they!! Quite frankly, I was just relieved it didn't trigger the fire sprinklers! The minister and assistant minister rushed in to try to air out the room and stop the shrieking alarms, but they weren't having much luck. Mom refused to come out of the smoky kitchen because she was dying of embarrassment (and trying to scrape burned plastic off the glass-topped stove) About that time, the fire trucks showed up. Yup, that's trucks, not one, but two fire engines, lights blazing, showed up.
Once they determined that an arsonist in a pink dress wasn't trying to burn the whole place down, they shut off the alarms and brought in huge, industrial fans to clear out the smoke. About that time, people started arriving for church, and coming into the kitchen to see what the heck was going on. My poor, mortified mother claimed that she was going to have to leave town. Luckily, everyone found the whole debacle hilarious (especially Paige and me!)
The one remaining concern was the charred plastic-encrusted stove top. We were afraid that thing was a complete loss. Thankfully with a couple of plastic mesh scrubbie things and a LOT of elbow grease, we got it all off.
Once that stove was shining like new money on a bear's behind, my mom could finally start to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. No one was hurt, it was hilarious, and it certainly made for a Mother's Day we'll never forget (nor will any of the church members.) Best part- our town is so small that the police blotter lists any events where emergency vehicles are deployed, so this will be in next week's paper. I just hope they include her name....

Glory Days

I probably shouldn't say it, because I will undoubtedly jinx myself, but I swear we're turning a corner with the little guys. It's always been somewhat of a nightmare to try to do anything fun with them. It's usually so chaotic and frustrating that I wind up huddled in a corner, balled up in the fetal position, rocking and moaning, "Why do I even try???" But this weekend, things were different.

We had three events to attend this weekend, two birthday parties and dinner at Nana's house. This is literally more whole-family fun than we have ever attempted. And it went shockingly, astoundingly, amazingly well. The first birthday party was at a nearby park with lots of potential for danger. There's a steep hill, a fairly busy parking lot, and a creek. Not to mention the meltdown potential of presents meant for someone else and candles that they couldn't blow out. But we didn't have a single problem!!! They played, they frolicked, they ate cake and ice cream, and didn't try to steal Jack's presents!! They didn't even attempt to dive off the bridge into the creek after the first warning!!

This incredible success was followed by a fairly pleasant dinner at Matt's mother's house. I mean, they didn't actually sit down and eat, and Will did strip completely naked and run around the yard while they were playing in the sprinkler, but that was no big deal. They didn't break anything or run around like holy terrors. They listened fairly well and for once, I wasn't ready to kill them by the time we left!

Sunday was another shockingly good day. This time we were going to a party for one of Mason's friends at Pump It Up, the big inflatable bounce place. The birthday boy was kind enough to invite younger siblings, and the twins were so excited to get to go to another party. They love Pump It Up, but the last time we went, it was a lot of work for me. They bouncy stuff is big, and there was a lot that they couldn't manage to climb without my help. Not this time. Those little monkeys ran with the big boys like I couldn't believe. They bounced, they climbed, the went through the obstacle course, they got knocked down and got right back up without crying. I was amazed. They were truly awesome. Instead of spending the whole time chasing them and fussing at them, Matt and I spent most of the party watching them and marveling at how tough they were.

And today, thought it seems too good to be true, my luck has held. I had to take them into the post office this morning and we had to wait in line. I was sure there would be whining, struggling to get away from me, running around the post office, screaming, etc. But no, they stood in line like little angels and waited patiently. Two ladies behind us actually commented on how good they were! (This has never, ever happened- it was a noteworthy moment!) Then we went to the playground and they listened and followed directions. It fills me with such hope that we may actually be approaching the point where we can do real, fun things as a family!

Now I know there will still be some god-awful days. I am fully aware that we are, by no means, out of the woods when it comes to horrible, frustrating outings. But I truly believe that we're getting to the point that they won't all be horrible and frustrating. And that, my friends, is the best feeling. It's like, after three years of dreading leaving the house, we're finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel- and I don't even think it's a train!! It's happening, folks. They're turning into real, honest-to-goodness human beings. We might (fingers crossed, knock on wood) survive this raising twins thing......