The Amazing Twin Adventure

Book Worms

2012-02-16T19:27:00.002-05:00

Anyone with little kids knows that when they get hooked on a book, you'd better be prepared to read it a thousand times or more. The twins' favorites cycle in and out, and the current must-read is usually phased out within a matter of days. But the two current faves seem to have some staying power.

For the last week or so, they have demanded several-times-daily readings of two particular books. The first is The Devil You Know, by Nathan Hale. The second is Chicken Butt, by Erica S. Perl. I have to admit, as far as kid books go, these are pretty darn great, especially The Devil You Know. Both are funny and irreverent- two qualities I prize in literature of any kind. They're clever, and Hale's story is remarkably sophisticated for a child's book. But despite all those good qualities, after approximately 200 readings this week, I'm starting to get a little tired of them. So tired, in fact, that my brain groans when they want to read "the little devil." At this point they can both recite them almost verbatim, and they start asking for them about five minutes after they wake up.

And I know that repetition is good for kids, and that reading their favorites over and over helps foster a love of books. But for the love of pete, can we get a little variety in here???? I realize that it could be worse- this beats the hell out of the time that they were hooked on Everybody Poops- but I wouldn't mind switching it up a bit. But I've learned by now that no matter how much I love a book, once it becomes a twin favorite, it's all over. They've already ruined The Giving Tree and Love You Forever to the point that I don't think I'll ever recover my former fondness for them.

But there's one thought that gives me comfort through every repetitious reading. Oddly enough, both The Devil You Know and Chicken Butt were gifts from my sister (who shares my love of irreverent humor). So I'll pass these on to Sawyer in a year or two. And then it will be her turn to hear "Hey Mommy, guess what? CHICKEN BUTT!!!" from morning till night. Bwahaha!

If you'd like to check out these literary gems for your own rugrats, here are some links:
http://www.amazon.com/Devil-You-Know-Nathan-Hale/dp/0802789811

http://www.amazon.com/Chicken-Butt-Erica-S-Perl/dp/B0051BNX16/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1329438305&sr=1-1

And I highly recommend last week's favorite, I Want My Hat Back
http://www.amazon.com/I-Want-My-Hat-Back/dp/0763655988/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1329438359&sr=1-1

They're all guaranteed to be funny for both kids and parents for the first 50 readings. And really, what more can you ask for?

Pinterest, What Have You Done to Me???

2012-02-14T09:58:00.001-05:00

Last year, I wrote this whole post about how I'm totally not into Valentine's Day. It's a cheap, commercialized holiday designed to force people to buy candy, flowers, and tacky stuffed animals. (Here's the link if you want to revisit my rant http://theamazingtwinadventure.blogspot.com/2011/02/valentines-insanity.html) I refused to but into the madness, and was quite proud of myself for doing so. That was last year. That was before I discovered Pinterest.

Pinterest, for those of you that have not been sucked into the time-wasting vortex, is a social network where you can "pin" pictures of things you like, recipes, and crafts, and people can follow you, see the things you're pinning, and "re-pin" the things they like. There are thousands of people on Pinterest, so you can spin endless hours pinning pretty things or things you'd like to make. Do a search for "valentine's Day" and you will bring up hundreds of ideas for decorations, treats, and more crafty things than you can imagine. This is what broke my anti-Valentine's resolve. There was just too much cute stuff to resist, so before I knew what hit me, I was making a Valentine's wreath for the front door, and filling the window boxes with glittery red and pink hearts.

But it didn't stop there. I had to make cupcakes for Mason's class party. Now, I've always enjoyed going all out on cupcake decorations, but this year I went so far as to make my own glittery heart-shaped candies to top the cupcakes. Then evil temptress, Pinterest, taunted me with a recipe for homemade oatmeal cream pies. Well, we need teacher gifts, right? Bam! Ribbon- bedecked treat bags full of oatmeal cream pies. Was that the end of the baking madness? Of course not!! How could I resist trying to make heart-shaped cinnamon rolls for Valentines breakfast. (Those, by the way, were a big, blobby failure, so I didn't snap any pictures!)

But honestly, those things were small potatoes compared to the Valentines. Oh, the Valentines..... I've always just bought a box of cards, and maybe if I was feeling really generous, went for the kind with candy, or pencils, or tattoos. But like I said, that was before Pinterest. After I gazed upon all of the magnificently adorable ideas, I was powerless to stop myself. I HAD to make these. They were just too freakin' cute. So I spent an hour cutting out foam lips and mustaches to put on blowpops for Mason's class, and another hour painstakingly crafting superhero costumes for Tootsie Roll Pops for the twins. Yup, I spent two whole hours making Valentines when I could have spent 10 minutes writing the twins' names on their cards and making Mason do his own. But seriously- look at how cute these are!!!! And the boys really did love them, so I thought it was (almost) worth the effort.

So yes, I admit it, I kind of lost my mind this Valentine's Day. Though I did stick to my guns when it came to gifts for the kids. They each got a $5 toy and a box of chocolate. So I haven't totally caved. But consider this fair warning- if you join Pinterest, you may very well lose your mind. Now I have to go buy the supplies to make a St. Patrick's day wreath that I pinned. Ummmm, yeah, I might need an intervention!

Ummm, That's Not the Kind of Special I Had In Mind

2012-02-06T13:47:00.001-05:00

Well, there's been a good bit of stuff going on in the month since I've posted. It's one of those things that I had to get my head around and get sorted out before I could write about it.

It all started at the end of January when we had Will evaluated by a psychologist. Not because we thought there was anything wrong with him, it's just one of those you have to do when your child is prescribed Ritalin. I was kind of dreading it. What if she thought I was some crappy mother who just wanted to medicate her child into submission because I was too lazy to deal with him? Or worse, what if she thought he didn't actually need Ritalin and somehow got his prescription revoked? Or what if she thought he needed Ritalin, but only because he was being raised by crappy parents??? I would like to say I was worried about nothing, but it turns out, I was just worried about the wrong things.

Will's problem isn't crappy parenting (or if it is, her report didn't mention it). His problem is that he has speech delays, ADHD, and visual/motor delays. Speech and behavior, I knew about, visual/motor came as a surprise. I didn't really even know what that means. Turns out, if your kid can't hold a pencil properly, can't trace shapes or draw faces, and can't put together a puzzle, they're "low-average to boderline" on their visual/motor skills. Borderline what? What line are we bordering here? Nevermind, I don't want to know. We'll just say he's low-average. So, if your child is low-average (screw you, borderline) the therapist will recommend that he may be a candidate for special needs preschool.

And if you're like me, you will first get incredibly angry. "Special needs?? What the hell is she talking about, special needs? She is obviously stupid and incompetent. She was wearing black acid-wash jeans for christsake!!" Then you look up the special needs preschool program in your school district, just to prove she has no clue what she's talking about. Then the bile starts to rise in your throat when you realize that the description of the kids that may qualify perfectly matches your child. Then you cry. A lot. Then you wipe the tears and snot away, square your shoulders, and start sending facebook messages to everyone you know that can help you figure out where to start.

So that's where we are now. I've submitted all the paper work to have the boys evaluated for the special needs preschool. Hays doesn't have the speech delay that Will does, but he's right there with him on visual/motor and behavior. He isn't ADHD, but he doesn't listen and follow directions like he needs to. The school speech therapist that's been working with them for a couple of months doesn't think they'll qualify for the full preschool program, but she thinks they may qualify for some afternoon therapy sessions. If they do, they'll attend a private preschool program 4 mornings a week, then get a couple of therapy sessions a week. I've gone from praying that they won't qualify to praying that they do. I want them to get all the help they need so that they'll be ready for kindergarten. I don't want school to be a struggle for them, but they've got a ways to go before they'll truly be ready for kindergarten.
And I'm getting past the "special needs" label. It's hard. Nobody wants their kid to have problems. It's hard to face a developmental delay. It feels like a huge failure on my part, like I let them down by not doing something I should have. But I have to let that go, because ultimately, it's not about me. It's about getting them what they need. And they need a little more than other kids. They had a harder start than most kids, and I have to keep that in mind. The earlier a child was born, and the more they went through after birth, the longer it will take for them to catch up. Instead of worrying about labels, or worrying about what other kids can do, I have to focus on Will and Hays. We are blessed by the fact that we know a lot of people who can help us figure out what they need and can help us get it for them. We are not alone in this, and that is incredibly reassuring.

Twin Talk

2012-01-17T18:56:00.001-05:00

The twins are pretty much always together, so they don't have a lot of different experiences throughout the day. Today was the exception. Will had a pulmonologist's appointment in Atlanta, and it was a school day for Hays. Matt took Will so that we wouldn't have to drag Hays along and make him miss yet another day of school. (They were out all last week due to Will's bout with pneumonia.He didn't have to be hospitalized, just three days worth of Rocephin shots and another 10 days of oral antibiotic.)

Anyway, since they had different mornings, they had the opportunity at dinner time to tell each other about their day. This was their conversation:

Will: Haysie. Haysie. HAYSIE!! (takes Hays's hand and looks at him very seriously) Haysie, today I go to doctor, then I see Budda and ate pizza!

Hays: Really? I go to school.

Me: Tell Will what you did at school today.

Hays: I go to school.

Me: Yeah, but what did you do at school? Tell Will about the things you did.

Hays: I go to school and did project!

Will: Project? Yay!

It's so funny to watch them interact with each other. They've only rcently gotten to the point that they have actual conversations, give each other directions while playing, and joke around to make each other laugh. And it is always, ALWAYS, hilarious. Case in point- this gem that I posted on Facebook, but didn't share with all of you in blogland.

Hays to Will after Will said "shut up" to me: No, Will, we don't say shut up to Mommy. We say 'yes ma'am'..........or 'damnit'

Hmmmm, come to think of it, maybe I liked it better before they started talking to each other!

The Most Dangerous Guy in the World

2012-01-16T12:58:00.001-05:00

This, my friends, is the most dangerous guy in the world. I know what you're thinking, "Dangerous? How can he possibly be dangerous?" Oh sure, he's short, bald, toothless, and unable to sit up on his own, but Matt would rather me handle live explosives than this baby.

This is my nephew, Sawyer, and he is ridiculously cute. He has bright blue eyes and a smile that would melt the polar ice caps faster than global warming. He is round and cuddly and sweet, and dangerous. Because when I hold Sawyer, I forget that babies are hard and messy and expensive and frequently boring. I forget that I talked his sobbing, exhausted mother down from the ledge just two days ago after a week of sleepless nights. I forget that my house is so chaotic and overwhelming that I start wondering every afternoon how we're all going to live until bedtime. I forget all of that and think, "Babies!! I love babies! They're sooooooo cute and sweet."

And then I come home to my big, loud, arguing, rough-and-tumble boys, and I think about how sweet and cute and cuddly that baby was. Then I say, "Matt, that baby is so ridiculously adorable. He's like crack, he's so addictive. Don't you wish..." And before I can finish the sentence, Matt goes, "No. Hell no." And I sigh and say, "I know. You're right. But he is reeeeally cute." And the universe (and the grandparents) breathe a sigh of relief.

I've avoided the baby trap this time, but it's an ongoing struggle. Because he's dangerous. Really, really dangerous.

Perfect Moment

2011-12-25T00:18:00.000-05:00

This, my friends, is one of the very best moments of parenting. When it's all there, the awesome Santa haul, laid out in all its plastic glory. That moment when you look at each pile of presents, and it's perfect, and you know they're going to love it. Sure, you know that at least one thing will be broken by the days' end, and half of it will be forgotten by next week, but right now, it's perfect.

I wish all of you a Christmas filled with joy, big smiles, delighted children, and all the people you love. And I hope that you find everything you want under your tree! Merry Christmas!!

Who Needs Santa When You've Got Nana?

2011-12-09T07:29:00.001-05:00

Were you wondering if I'd killed everyone with a badly undercooked Thanksgiving turkey? Nah, everyone's fine. Thanksgiving went off without a hitch, and the turkey was delicious. The reason I've been MIA in blogland for a couple of weeks is because the elves have been crazy busy at my house. And by elves, I mean my awesome handyman, John, (who, considering his diminutive stature, might not like being called an elf)

John's been fixing and updating everything in sight thanks to a vast home improvement project sponsored by my in-laws. My mother-in-law is putting Santa to shame by funding project after project, and things are looking spiffier by the day around this place. In the last two weeks we've ordered new kitchen cabinet doors, had lights (with fancy dimmer switches!!) installed in the den, a new light above the kitchen sink, repaired dishwasher and ice maker, new insulation in the attic above the playroom, a new chair, chest, throw pillows, and ottomans in the den, and a brand-new front-loading washer and dryer!!!! No, I'm not joking. Heck, I'm probably forgetting stuff!! And no, I will not trade MILs with anyone- I've already had offers and flatly rejected them. I'm keeping Nana Claus all for myself!!!

But things are truly looking merry and bright around here. The kitchen is going to be a thousand times better once we get our old, raggedy doors out and the fancy new ones in. And the den, oh the glorious den. It feels ten times bigger now that I've moved out the too-big chair and desk that were stealing all the floor space. I smile every time I walk in there and see all that glorious space set off by perfectly-dimmed lighting! We are very lucky and very grateful to all of the in-laws for making our home better for the holidays!

Thanksgiving Eve- A True Story

2011-11-23T11:25:00.001-05:00

Twas' the day before Thanksgiving and all through the house, Mommy was rushing around like a crack-head mouse. There was lots to get done, and not much time to do it. Let's see if crazy mommy will manage to get through it.......

7:22: Wake up with a sense of anxiety over the long list of tasks that await me.

8:00: Feed kids, turn on tv babysitter- an hour of Madagascar (or Madagadagascar as Hays calls it) should buy me time to drag out and wash roasting pan and crystal bowls for turkey and cranberry sauce.

9:00: Manage a shower that's only interrupted by the twins once. Will needs to pee, Hays just "wants to watch mommy's shower." Ummm, no thanks.

9:45: I'm dressed and so are the kids. Aunt Bea arrives to help me take them to get haircuts. While buckling Hays into car, I notice that he has a brown speck on his neck- it turns out to be a flea. Great, add flea eradication to to-do list.

10:00: Haircuts ensue. It's only mildly horrible and we emerge 30 minutes later with good-looking haircuts. (Even mommy!!)

10:30: We brave the loony bin that is Publix. I wouldn't have attempted it if we weren't out of milk, and if I hadn't used up a block of cream cheese that I needed to make cheesecake in yesterday's wine/cream cheese/pepper jelly frenzy with my friend. It was a zoo, and I almost had to beat up a senior citizen that started crap with me in line about crowding her.

11:00: Get home and begin flea warfare. Spray everything upholstered with flea killer, then bathe the dog. While picking up fat, reluctant dog to drag her to the tub, hear an ominous crunch in my back. Think, "Hmmmm, this might be bad later."

11:30: Gather wet towels and clothes, add "load of laundry" and "clean sopping wet bathroom" to my to-do list. Realize that in my hurry to ward off an impending flea infestation, I have forgotten to put away milk, cream cheese, and creamer. Sigh...

11:45: Start pomegranate cranberry sauce. I'm feeling fancy because I'm using my Ipad in its snazzy case with a stand to display the recipe. Unfortunately, it also attracts Will's attention and he starts on on a 10-minute whine fest of "I want mommy's Ipad!" I start off nicely explaining that mommy is using her Ipad, wind up yelling, "No!! You can't have it right now no matter how much you whine! Now GET OUT OF MY KITCHEN!!!!"

12:00: Finally unload dishwasher, toss soggy, wet-dog towels into the washer, feed kids, read them a story, put them down for a nap (with little to no hope that they'll actually sleep.) Take advil for my back that's already starting to twinge and throb.

1:00: Get Mason set up with paints and paper plates so he can make handprint turkeys to complete my set of handprint turkey napkin rings for tomorrow. Say a quick prayer of thanks for the convenience of Lean Cuisine as I toss one in the microwave.

1:20: Tell Will to stop singing and go to sleep

1:25: Go in again to get on to Will- this time threatening great bodily harm. Not expecting it to work, but maybe fear will buy me time.

1:55: What can only be described as joyous yelps are emanating from the twins' room. But I'm in the middle of making a pumpkin cheesecake, so they'll have to stay there. I figure I've got at least 20 minutes before screams erupt.

2:15: The joy turns to screams, but the cheesecake is safely in the oven, so I release Thing 1 and Thing 2.

2:30: After settling the twins with snacks, my Ipad, and Yo Gabba Gabba, I make a cup of chai tea to try to recharge, and get to work turning Mason's handprint turkeys into napkin rings.

3:05: Matt's home!!! Hallelujah, reinforcements have arrived!! Prepare to set out to procure wine, and temporary hem tape to temporarily hem the too-long pants I'm planning to wear tomorrow. Followed by a trip to my mom's to drop off the napkin rings and pick up the 20 pound thawed (oh please, please God, let it have thawed) turkey.

4:00: Back home with Scotch reusable adhesive strips that I think will fit my temporary hemming needs, a bottle of wine, and a STUPID, PIECE OF SHIT, STILL MOSTLY FROZEN turkey. Prepare a cooler out back to start thawing that S.O.B. in water- which will have to be changed EVERY 30 MINUTES!!! for the next 3-4 hours.

4:30: Start cleaning up the house and folding laundry while Matt and the boys watch a kung-fu movie. Matt does offer to vacuum since my back is hurting- when I'm half done and have already spent the last half hour on my hands and knees scrubbing the bathroom floor and bathtub. Thanks, honey!

5:20: Pour lovely glass of wine and order pizza. Screw cooking dinner.

6:00: Send Matt out to get pizza and to make the second trip of the day to Publix to pick up stuff I didn't realize we were out of on my first trip.

6:30: Feed, bathe, dress twins. Read, brush teeth, bed. Two down, 1 to go......

7:00: Mix cool whip with pumpkin pie spice and maple syrup. Planning to pipe it on top of the cheesecake that has a crack the size of the freakin' Grand Canyon. But the cake's not cool enough, so there's nothing to do but sit and wait....

7:45: Stupid turkey is finally thawed. Still sitting and waiting for the cheesecake to cool. Restless without something to do.

8:00: Watch The Middle. Seriously love that show, and according to several people, Frankie Heck is my mom alter-ego. Yeah, I can see it.

8:30: Cheesecake is finally cooled, but my piping idea doesn't work so well.. Eh, whatever. Spread the maple spice cool whip on top and sprinkle it with chopped pecans. It's not perfect, but it beats crater cake.

8:50: Send Mason to bed. Fuss at Mason to stop stalling. Tell Mason to stop crying- I'm not being mean, I'm just tired of the bedtime stalling every single night!

9:00: Watch Modern Family while drinking more wine. Oh, Modern Family, how I love thee.

9:30: Time to get the turkey ready. Dig the neck and bag o' giblets out (shudder). Season that bad boy, stuff him with onions and celery, tie him in a roasting bag and stick him in the fridge. See you tomorrow bright and early, buddy!

9:45: Clean every inch of the kitchen that may have come anywhere near turkey juice with antibacterial cleaner- can't be too careful!!

10:00: Done for the day. Sit on the couch for a while longer before heading to bed.

11:00: Set the alarm for 6 am, say a prayer to the turkey gods that mine turns out well, and turn out the light.

Happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good night!!!

You've Come a Long Way, Babies

2011-11-17T14:01:00.001-05:00

Today is Premature Birth Awareness Day. This is something we're all too familiar with. It's been a long time since we've looked back at the old days- the beginning of our amazing twin adventure, if you will. So if you'll indulge me for a moment, let's look back and think about what a premature birth really means. Let's remember what 9 weeks early and less than three pounds looks like....

Hays, born at 30 weeks, 2 lbs.

Will, born at 30 weeks, 2 lbs. 14 oz.

It's kind of shocking isn't it? They were so small and so frail, and we wondered how they would possibly survive. Will almost didn't. Every minute was touch and go in those first few days, and we couldn't even fathom the journey that lay ahead.

But survive they did. And they haven't just survived, they have thrived. I can't look back on those dark days and not be absolutely, positively, to-my-core amazed at how far they have come. And grateful. So very, very grateful to the bottom of my soul.

We were lucky- beyond lucky, but not everyone is. And there are tiny babies like ours being born every single day. If you'd like to help prevent premature births, or help these tiny babies grow into wonderful, healthy children like mine, a donation to the March of Dimes is a great way to do it. If you're so inclined you can go to www.marchofdimes.com They do great things, and they would certainly appreciate your help. But if you can't help that way, that's okay. Just take a minute to offer prayers, blessings, good vibes- whatever you believe in- to the families that are loving babies born too early, that the babies will grow and thrive, and that their mommies and daddies will be blessed with faith, courage, and amazing friends and family to carry them through.

You want a hippopotamus for Christmas? Tough.

2011-11-16T13:22:00.001-05:00

Every year I get super-excited about the idea of Christmas shopping for my kids. In my mind, I can't wait to get out there and find the perfect toys that will make their eyes light up on Christmas morning. And then every year, as soon as I start looking, reality comes and crushes my retail dreams.

First of all, there are no "perfect toys." There are "kind of decent, I think they'll like this" toys, and there are "this looks fun- maybe they'll play with it for more than 5 minutes" toys. But there are no perfect "make Christmas morning live forever in their memories" toys. Basically, everything looks like one more variation on all the plastic junk that we already have cluttering up the playroom. And since they don't even play with that stuff, I have a really hard time dumping a bunch of cash on more of the same.

Which brings me to the second reality check- money. When did toys get so ridiculously, out-of-this-world expensive??? You can't by some junky playset whose cheap pieces will never work properly, and which will probably fall apart the minute your kid tries to play with it for less than $20. And God help you if you want to buy them something that might actually hold together and work the way it does on the commercial. Then you'd better be prepared to shell out no less than $50 for one little toy!! And if your budget is anything like mine, it's pretty much busted after one good toy and one piece of crap toy.

And two toys (one of them crappy) doesn't make for a very impressive Christmas haul does it? We all know that part of the joy of Christmas morning is the sheer volume of loot. It doesn't all have to be great, but boy, there'd better be a lot of it. And while we don't go completely crazy with it, we do like for each child to have a fairly substantial pile. So I wind up spending more than I want to, and buying junk toys that might get played with twice just to see big smiles and sparkling eyes on Christmas morning.

It happens every year. And every year I walk away from Christmas shopping discouraged and frustrated instead of filled with excitement and Christmas cheer. I'm hoping this year will be better. We've already gotten started, and I found some things for Mason that are going to rock his world. And since I literally had no idea what to do for the twins, I took them to Target yesterday and let them wander the toy aisles to choose things they want Santa to bring them. (Side note: that was actually pretty cute. At first they were all, "I want dis, I want dis!" And I kept telling them, "No, we're not buying anything today, but we can put it on your list for Santa." By the end of the trip, they had it down. "Mommy, put dat on my list- big gun. I want dat. Put dat on my list.") So I know what I want to get them and I know how much it costs. Maybe a little more preparation will make this year's shopping experience more gratifying than horrifying. We'll see.....

Fall Fun Photo Extravaganza

2011-11-07T09:56:00.000-05:00

Holy cow, was last week busy. That's why I never got around to posting, even though I had lots to share. So here's the last week in pictures. The first few are from our pumpkin carving party last Sunday. It was great- friends, family, food and fun. All the best things in life! We carved pumpkin masterpieces, ate lots of food, and successfully roasted marshmallows without a single kid falling in the fire, or stabbing someone with a toasting fork!!

The next day was Halloween. I'm sure most families with three year olds had them adorably dressed. I saw lots of pictures of sweetly costumed preschoolers that made me say, "awwwwwww." I, however, had a zombie and a werewolf. Thanks, Thriller. I tried to embrace the theme and convince Mason to dress as Michael Jackson, but he wasn't having it. So my mom and I took a zombie, a werewolf and a ninja trick-or-treating, and whoa, baby was that an experience! It was the first time for the little guys, and they LOVED it. It took a while for them to get the hang of it. The first few houses, Will tried to go inside, and he blew out the candles in several people's jack-o-lanterns. But by the 5th or 6th house, he had it figured out and there was no stopping him. They didn't walk from house to house, they ran. So mom and I ran (up incredibly steep driveways) to keep up with them. I can say with absolute conviction that I earned every fun-size candy bar that I stole out of their bags.

And I was going to post all of those pictures last week, but I got too busy getting ready for the trip we took this weekend! We loaded up the minivan and took the boys up to the mountains. It was the perfect weekend. The weather was gorgeous, the leaves were ablaze with color, and we had an awesome cabin with a creek right outside. The only time we left the property was to take a quick trip to the apple orchard. The boys liked it, but they were in a hurry to get back to the cabin so they could throw leaves and rocks into the creek. We had planned to do a little hiking in the nearby state park, but we couldn't pry the boys away from the water. We could barely drag them out even when their wet feet were so cold they were at risk of hypothermia!

Matt's dad came up for a little while Saturday afternoon, so we were able to get a family picture (yay!!) and the boys got to show Budda the wonders of the woods. It was so nice to have nowhere to be and nothing that we had to do. Mason said it was "the best vacation ever!" And considering that it was also the cheapest vacation ever, I was glad to hear it. A definite success, and we're already talking about how we can't wait to go next year.

And now we're barreling towards Thanksgiving at an astonishing speed, and I can't believe we're already in the second week of November. I hadn't fully adjusted to October yet!!! Soon the cash hemorrhage known as Christmas shopping begins. Are any of you friends with the money fairy? If so, could you ask her to swing by my house???

Screw the Scale

2011-10-28T14:59:00.000-04:00

Some people have a love/hate relationship with their scale. I have an intense dislike/burning hatred relationship with mine. There's never a time that I step on that plastic bastard, look down at the numbers and think, "That's pretty good." At best it's "ugh." At its worst, it's "Oh. My. God. I am never eating again." But what really aggravates me much more than the numbers that flash up in that little display window, is the hold they have on me.

See, I can be having a day where I feel pretty good. I'll look in the mirror and think, "Not bad!" But if I get on the scale, and reads even a half pound over what I think is acceptable, my whole self image is shot. Somewhere between the ten steps from the mirror to the bathroom, I must have put on ten pounds. Because the reflection that looked pretty good to me two minutes ago, now looks like a lumpy, dumpy, frumpy hag.

And I know that it's ridiculous. I should not let some battery-powered hunk of judgement determine my self-worth. But I do. It pushes aside the fact that I exercise regularly (yup, still doing battle with the elliptical several times a week), wear a smaller size than I did a year ago, look better in pictures, and that I have more endurance than I ever have. None of that matters if the number isn't low enough.

And the worst part is that I know I probably look as good now as I'm ever going to. Most people don't get better looking as the years pass. (Unless you're an awkward adolescent. In that case, the coming years will only bring improvement.) But even though I know, logically, that I should embrace the far-from-perfect figure that I have, that I should love it for being strong and healthy, and in at least nominally good shape, I spend most of my mirror time cataloguing the flaws. I can't get past the thunder thighs, or the stomach that starts off okay, then seems to melt downward into a Dahli-esque sag.

I wish I could shrug off the ravages of time and childbirth, and say with a smile, "Well hell, it could be a lot worse." I wish I could totally, without reservations, embrace what I see in the mirror today. But who truly can? I felt fat at 18, and when I look at pictures from back then, I think, how stupid was I? I would kill to have that body now. Why couldn't I love it then? But like the song says "Don't it always seem to go, you don't know what you've got till it's gone..." Maybe I should just stay off the scale and let my jeans be the judge. Jeans won't lie, but they also won't give you a stupid soul-crushing number to obsess over.

Insomaniac

2011-10-21T13:48:00.000-04:00

If I ever kill my husband, it will happen at 3 a.m. Not there aren't other times during the day that I feel like killing him, but if I ever follow through with it, it will be at 3 a.m. I realized this the other night during a ruthless bout of insomnia. As the hours ticked by, my rage at Matt, sleeping peacefully beside me, grew and grew. You may be thinking, "Rage? Why rage? He's just sleeping." Oh, no. Oh, no, he was not just sleeping. He was also breathing. And as I lay there, so tired and yet hopelessly awake, all I could hear was that constant breathing. I wanted to suffocate him with a pillow.

But then, then, he had the audacity to SNORE! It was like he was taunting my sleeplessness with every exhale. At that point, mere suffocation would have been far too kind. I was thinking of stabbing him in the ear with a kitchen knife. Or perhaps setting him on fire.

Fear of incarceration prevailed, and I managed to stifle my murderous urges. Instead I made do with kicking, elbowing, and a string of hateful cussing that would have made a sailor proud. I'm not going to repeat it because it was very unladylike. Plus, he slept through most of my ranting, and I'd hate for him to see a written record of the things I said. They weren't nice. I may or may not have said something along the lines of "If a monster truck crashed through the wall at this very moment, killing you instantly, I would throw a party." So, yeah, not nice.

This went on for hours until I finally fell asleep around four in the morning. Then I had to wake up and face the day at 6:30. It was rough. Luckily, my murderous rage had disappeared completely by the time the sun came up. I was tired, but not homicidal. Matt lived to see another day. But next time, he might not be so lucky. I don't get insomnia all that often, but when I do, he'd be wise to cut that breathing crap out.

Halloween Madness

2011-10-20T13:42:00.000-04:00

It's finally starting to feel like fall!! I was so excited that we actually have had to wear jackets the last two days. Pretty big news when you consider that it was 90* on Monday. And not only are the temperatures finally October appropriate, Halloween is just over a week away!! I've been bustin' out my crafty mojo like a madwoman to get ready for it. Holidays= craftapalooza for me. I went to Michaels today and got so excited at all the Thanksgiving and Christmas craft possibilities that I literally had to tell myself, "Walk away, Cameron, walk away. It's not even Halloween yet."

So here's what I've been up to over the past couple of weeks. First, pumpkin painting!!! I bought way more pumpkins than my hand can stand to carve, so I figured I'd paint most of them. That way I can still have cool decorations without them turning into moldy mushballs in three days time. We'll still carve the backs of two or three of them just before the big day. But honestly, they look so cool, I'm not sure I'll have the heart to cut into them!!

Awesome spooky crow on a white pumpkin

Ugly old witch

My absolute favorite- the glitter skull. He's sooo

much cooler in person.

Fancy pants (and slightly off-center) monogram

We're batty!!

Glitzy, spider webby, fishnet stocking-looking mini pumpkin

This one probably would have turned out better if I hadn't used those

round garage sale price stickers as painters tape. Ah well, live and learn.

Front door decor

I totally snagged the idea for this wreath off of Pinterest.

I decked out all the window boxes with the Dollar Tree's spooky best. What can I say, crafty and CHEAP!!!

You may wonder if I did anything inside. Short answer, no. I mean, I've got a witch silhouette on the playroom window, and Frankenstein is coming out of the hallway mirror, but nothing else would be safe from grabby little twin hands. So I confined interior decorating to things they couldn't reach. Which amounts to......this

But the most fabulous creation has to be the headpiece for Hays's werewolf costume. He's going to be a werewolf and Will's going to be a zombie (remember, they're obsessed with Thriller) I couldn't find a werewolf head small enough to fit him, so I found a tutorial and made one. And it's AWESOME!!! He loves it. All we need are fake fur gloves, and this werewolf is ready!

Coming Clean

2011-10-17T13:37:00.000-04:00

I just found out it's ADHD awareness week. I had no idea there was an ADHD awareness week, but it seems like an opportune time to tell you about something I've been going back and forth on sharing. On one hand, I try to be pretty honest about our lives. On the other, this is a polarizing subject that invites a lot of criticism. And I don't particularly want to be criticized for something that is a personal decision made in, what we feel, is the best interest of our child. That being said, in the spirit of keeping it real, here's the story.

My Will, my sweet, funny, precious Will, has always been a live wire. From the time he could walk, he never stood still. He never sat through a story or an entire tv show. He never, literally never, sat down and played with toys. And most frightening, he never, ever shied away from danger of any sort. Whether it was escaping the house while I was cooking dinner and strolling down the street, or attempting to stick an assortment of interesting objects in the electrical sockets, Will was going to do it over and over. And no amount of admonishment or punishment was going to stop him.

We thought it would get better as he got older. It got worse. We felt like we spent every moment of the day fussing at him or punishing him- trying with all our might to get him to listen and behave, all to no avail. We were at our wit's end. And we were even more frustrated that we couldn't figure out why he was like this. The other boys weren't. Sure, they'd get into stuff, but they'd (mostly) listen when we got onto them. And they could focus on activities for long periods of time. At two years old, Hays would sit and play with cars for close to an hour at a time, just as happy as a clam. But Will just cruised around the house, all the time, looking for something to get into.

It came to a head this summer. Matt and I went out of town for a week and left the kids with their grandparents. When we got back, they told us how hard it was to deal with Will. How he just would not listen, had no fear of anything- no matter how dangerous, how they felt like they couldn't take their eyes off him for a single second. That's when I realized that it wasn't just me, and that we might truly have a problem.

After a disastrous attempt at Bible school, I had finally reached the breaking point. I called my pediatrician, at the end of my rope, begging for advice on how to deal with this child. His response was, "I've been kind of waiting for this call." I wasn't sure what to feel- relief that I wasn't just a crappy mother that couldn't control her child, dismay at the fact that there truly was a problem. I was conflicted.

I was even more conflicted when he suggested that we try putting Will on a very small dose of Ritalin. I've always been in the camp of "parents medicate their children way too often." And here I was considering that very thing. Not to mention, my kid is little- much younger than most kids are when they start taking Ritalin. But I trust our doctor, and I was desperate for a solution. So after some soul-searching, and advice calls to parents, sisters, and friends, we decided to give it a shot. (An aside here. Many pediatricians won't prescribe Ritalin to a three year old. But my pediatrician knows us very well. Keep in mind that we didn't go more than 10 days without a visit to his office during last year's winter of illness. He knows Will, has seen his behavior progress, and he is a very, very cautious doctor. So in the event that anyone thinks that he is, in any way, a pill-pushing, quick-fix kind of guy- don't. He is amazing- the most sought after pediatrician in our area, and I literally trust him with their lives.)

So we started him on Ritalin- and it was amazing. It was like someone flipped a switch. Not personality-wise. I can assure you it did not diminish his essential "Will-ness" one bit. He's still silly, funny, energetic, loud, rambunctious and wonderful. But it turned off those parts that worried us so much. We finally started to see some much-needed impulse control. Oh sure, he'll still jump off the couch and run with sticks, but he won't try to stick a screwdriver in the outlet anymore. He started to listen and follow directions (most of the time). And he could actually focus on things instead of cruising restlessly all day long. He listens to stories, he'll build amazing block towers, he'll sit down and play with cars or dinosaurs for a half hour or more- it was the most astonishing, wonderful change. Now we could spend more time praising him than reprimanding. And that was such a blessing, because my charming Will loves to please people. And it was so hard for him to always be in trouble.

That was about four months ago, and the quality of life for our family has improved immeasurably. Will is happier. Matt and I don't feel like we're at the end of our rope all the time. (Well, I still frequently do, but I blame that on being the mother of three little boys, rather than on one particular boy!) Mason and Hays are happier because they get more attention and Will doesn't drive them crazy all the time by wrecking their stuff. Life is better, and it's because of Ritalin.

I still think there are a lot of children that are unnecessarily medicated. And I know that Ritalin isn't a perfect solution. Trust me, I've read the articles, I know the risks, I have my concerns. But right now, the benefits outweigh them. So that's what we're doing. And I'm sure some people will think I'm wrong, or worse, that I'm a bad mother. I'm okay with that because I truly, in my heart of hearts, think I'm doing what's best for my child. And that's all any of us can do, right?

To be Gifted, Or Not to be Gifted, That is the Question...

2011-10-15T00:00:00.000-04:00

I have a quandary. It is a Mason-related quandary, as they frequently are. I had a phone conference with his teacher yesterday. Don't worry- it was a good thing. It's conference week at school, and he's doing so well that she didn't even request an actual in-the-classroom sit down, just a phone chat to let me know how he's doing. The good news is, he's really smart, excellent reader, great at math, enthusiastic student- all stuff that made me very proud. He's so smart in fact, that she wants to give him accelerated work to see if he would do well in the gifted program. Therein lies the quandary.

See, I know Mason's smart. And I know he's totally got the brainpower for the gifted program. The problem is, I don't know that he's got the motivation. Because even though he's smart as all get out, he's also laaaaaaaaaazy. That boy doesn't want to do one speck more work than he absolutely has to. And he will rush through it like his pencil's on fire to get it done so he can move on to the stuff he wants to do. Stuff like watching Sponge Bob, or playing Lego Universe. Nothing but the loftiest pursuits for my boy. And homework is a nightly battle that often ends in smartmouth attitude (his), yelling (mine), frustration (both), tears (mostly his), and drinking (usually mine).

And quite frankly, I'm not sure I'm ready to amp that battle up any more. I mean, obviously I want to give him every academic opportunity, push him to succeed, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera..... But really, I just don't know how much more of the homework-related nonsense I can take. Lord knows I spend enough time fussing at him. I'm not sure I want to invite the opportunity for more!

We're, of course, going for it. What the hell else was I going to do? Tell his teacher, "Ummm thanks for wanting to challenge my child and help him achieve more academically, but I'm going to have to pass. I don't feel like arguing with him about homework." Yeah, right. So we'll see how it goes. Hopefully, he'll enjoy the challenge and find the work interesting. Maybe. If not, we might be the first parents ever to keep our kid out of the gifted program because it's too much trouble!

Family Fun on the Farm

2011-10-12T07:59:00.005-04:00

So here are some cute kid pictures for you. We had a lovely weekend of wholesome family fun. The farm where we go to pick strawberries in the spring has a pumpkin patch and tons of activities in the fall. We'd never taken the kids, so we decided this was the year. The fun starts right out of the parking lot where you hitch a ride on a hay wagon to the back part of the farm.

Yay, hayride!!!!!

We watched a couple of pig races, the kids checked out the vortex tunnel (a stationary walkway through a spinning, black-light painted tunnel. Kids loved it, I thought I might vomit), and the we did the corn maze. Well, the mini corn maze. I'm not sure the kids (or I) were up for the big one!

Mason and Hays in the corn maze

Sweet Will

I spy Haysie!

After the corn maze and a few turns on the huge slide, it was time for the jumping pillow. I'd never seen one, but it's exactly like it sounds. A huge, rubbery mat in the shape of a pillow, filled with air. It has a firmer surface than a moon bounce, and the kids really liked it. Hays kept getting too close to the edge and bouncing off the side, but he thought it was funny.

Wheeeeee!!!

We checked out the petting zoo- chicks, some bunnies, a pig, a few goats, the usual.

Then we spent a good bit of time at the water pumps, racing rubber ducks. Mason and Will really liked pumping the water (Will needed a little help). But Hays mostly wanted to play with the rubber ducks. There were some tears when he had to leave the ducks behind to go on to the next activity.

But he stopped crying when we told him it was time to ride the cow train. He'd been wanting to ride it since we got to the farm. We got him buckled in, he was all smiles, super excited. Then he realized that train was pulling out without mommy. Cue the tears. We buckled him in with Mason and thought that wpould solve the problem, but no. More tears. Finally, we gave up, took him out and sent the train on its way, sans Hays. And wouldn't you know that the minute he realized his brothers were going to ride the train without him, he started crying again! You can't win.

Hays might have cried, but Will was all about it!

After the train ride, the kids climbed the hay mountain.

I'm king of the world!!!

Then we checked out the corn cannon and the pumpkin slingshot. The corn cannon was like a big, hydraulic potato gun. It was cool, but kind of loud when it fired. Mason and Will liked it, but it scared Haysie half to death. More tears. In fact, three days later he's still talking about how "the kern cannon scared me!" So it was time to wrap up the family fun at the farm.

Despite the tears, all three kids had a really good time. And I have all these lovely pictures to share with you. Almost worth the $52 we had to spend on admission!

Second Life

2011-10-07T12:03:00.004-04:00

Matt told me a story this week about how he and his coworkers discovered that an employee at one of their client sites was spending a lot of work hours playing the online game "Second Life." I'd heard of it, but wasn't really sure what it was all about. From what I can surmise, players create a character and live out an online life. They can go different places, interact with other characters (and those interactions can apparently get quite, ahem, adult...), whatever they want to do. I found it kind of odd, but I have to admit, kind of intriguing. Not the game itself, but the whole concept of a second, alternate life. It made me kind of wonder what my second life would be.

If you look at it from the point of "what would I be doing if I wasn't doing this?" Then my answer would be pretty boring. If I wasn't living this life, I'd probably be chasing this life. See, the only thing I've consistently wanted to be throughout my life was a wife and mother. I know. Who dreams of being a housewife? How boring is that? But it's true, that's all I've ever wanted to be. Well, not all.

When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a horse trainer. But since I quit riding at 12, that's probably not going to happen. As a high school drama geek, I wanted to be an actress. But lack of any real talent pretty much makes that a bust. Oh sure, I can do a kickass dramatic reading of How Does a Dinosaur Say Goodnight or If You Give a Moose a Muffin, but I'm unlikely to take the Great White Way by storm. So the one dream that I actually had a chance of being good at was the one I pursued. And had I not gotten married at 24 and had a baby a year later, I'd probably be out there trying to find a husband so I could settle down and be a housewife! What can I say, I'm living the dream.....

So the "road not taken" idea of a second life is boring as hell in my case. But what if you look at it from the alter-ego point of view? As far as I can tell, people playing Second Life create a character that's someone they'd like to be, not someone who bears any resemblance to who they actually are. And that's kind of interesting. Who would you be with no constraints? What would you look like if genetics had no say? What would you act like if there was no fear of repercussions?

If I was going to create an alter-ego, she would be a total badass. She'd be way taller, have a much better body, and have bigger (perkier) boobs. Style wise, I'm thinking definitely retro sexy pin-up girl. Kind of a cross between Dita Von Teese and Danielle from American Pickers. Oh, and they're both burlesque girls, so I bet she'd do that too. She'd be ridiculously cool. She'd probably have tattoos. Oh, and roller derby. She'd definitely do roller derby because those girls are cool, and tough, and sexy. Yup, that's the alter-ego I'd create. And I bet she'd have a really cool second life- lots of adventures that I'd never even dream of.

She would, no doubt, be miles cooler than I ever will, but that's okay. I'm more than content to leave my imaginary counterpart in some alternate universe, because while it's fun to imagine other possibilities for myself, I've got the life I've always wanted right here.

Bazombies

2011-10-05T12:08:00.004-04:00

If I had my way, the little boys would never watch anything but age-appropriate, educational television. PBS kids, with some Disney sprinkled in- good, wholesome stuff. When Mason was their age, I pretty much managed to contain his viewing habits to the things I deemed appropriate. Oh sure, Daddy would occasionally sneak something in that I didn't really agree with (Transformers, anyone?), but it was mostly mom-approved. As Mason got older, started school and was influenced by other kids, new things started to sneak in. In started small with stuff like Cartoon Network, then the Nick tween stuff like iCarly started to appear. I finally gave up when he got hooked on the unholiest of them all- Spongebob. But I was still keeping pretty tight rein on the twins.

Until recently. Matt decided that watching Spaceballs, the 80's Star Wars spoof movie, would be a fun Saturday activity for him and the boys. Well, it was fun all right. So fun in fact, that Will became obsessed with it, wanted to watch it every day, and insisted for a month that everyone call him "Dark Helmet." That obsession passed about a month ago when Mason thoughtfully introduced them to Michael Jackson's Thriller video.

Mason had been learning the dance in PE, so Matt and I let him watch the video. Mason showed it to his brothers, and voila, a new obsession was born. Now I hear about werewolves and zombies (or "Bazombies" as Will calls them) day in and day out. They play zombies and werewolves, they run from "the thriller" in the backyard, they know the dance- complete with zombie head-twitch and monster claws- and they do it everywhere. At preschool (in front of the whole class), at the pediatrician's office (thank goodness our doctor rocks and was totally amused), the playground, EVERYWHERE. And forget calling Will by his name. He will swiftly correct you, "No, I a bazombie...."

Since it's hilarious, I gave up trying to fight it. I embraced it and bought them zombie shirts. Will wants to wear his every single day. And they are awfully cute.

They think they're scary....

Super-scary in fact...

But it's hard to be scared of a zombie.....

When he's this cute!!

Marriage= Yoga Pants

2011-10-01T20:08:00.005-04:00

Yesterday I was browsing around our MSN homepage and I came across this tarot card compatibility meter thing. I'm not a big believer in horoscopes, and I know next to nothing about tarot cards, but since all you had to do was enter your birthday and that of your significant other, I gave it a whirl. Like I said, not a big believer, and yet, the results were surprisingly accurate. Matt and I both got the "high priestess" card (probably because we were born the same year). I have no idea what the high priestess stands for, but this is what it said:

Two peas in a pod describe this cozy and secure union where you both truly prefer being a twosome to being a solo unit. A natural ease and rapport exists as you virtually read each other's minds. Consideration and compromise come readily in this union where the priority will be on harmony. While peace reigns when two priestesses get together, making a decision or taking action can be an ordeal. The double yin energy creates a tendency for passivity, an all talk no action union. To move forward, it might pay to take turns playing the role of The One in Charge. Your challenge is to take the love you freely share with each other and translate it it into real world progress. After all, if you two had your way, you would spend your entire relationship snuggled under the blankets in a remote cabin getaway."

And though it's certainly a generalization, it's basically true. We do genuinely like being together. We've known each other forever, and we know each other so well that we definitely have a bit of a mind-meld going. We're not great at making decisions- we once drove around for a full hour trying to decide where to go out to dinner. But that mainly happens with the little, unimportant things. On the bigger, more important things, someone always takes on the role of "The One In Charge." (Sure, 99% of the time it's me, but he's okay with that.) And as for the whole remote cabin thing- well of course we would, our kids couldn't find us and bug us if we were hiding out in a remote mountain cabin! Since that's not really feasible, it mostly translates to "If you two had your way, you'd spend your entire relationship sitting on the couch after the kids were in bed watching bad reality television."

And while it's fairly true, no one would call it particularly exciting. But you know what? That's okay. Maybe it's not exciting, but it's comfortable, like a good pair of yoga pants. And let me tell you, there is nothing that I love more than yoga pants. Sure, you probably won't go on any big adventures in them. You won't have a wild night in the club in them. No one will think you're sexier than a supermodel in them. But nothing makes you feel more comfortable, more at home, more secure in your own skin than yoga pants. And while you can try on something else, and go do all those wild exciting things, at the end of the day where do you want to be? That's right. At home, on the couch, in front of bad tv, in your yoga pants.

So I'm beyond grateful for my comfortable, happy, harmonious, yoga pants marriage. Never in my life have I felt more loved, needed, and certain that I'm doing exactly what I was born to do. Truly, what more could you ask for? And if you want to try the tarot card reading yourself, here's the link:

http://glo.msn.com/horoscopes/tarot/love

I hope you have someone that fits you like your favorite pair of yoga pants. Or if that's not your style, the pair of jeans that makes your butt look great and makes you feel like a sexy beast. But stay away from anyone that fits you like sky-high stilettos- sure, it starts off super-hot, but it's going to be nothing but pain at the end!!

Keeping My Ego in Check

2011-09-30T12:39:00.003-04:00

I know, I know, I took my blogging sabbatical to ridiculous lengths. Sorry. Summer was long, hot and boring, and I just didn't have the writing vibe, even though two major events occurred. The first was the birth of my fabulously adorable nephew, Sawyer, at the beginning of August. My sister birthed the world's biggest baby (9 lbs. 9 oz.) with only an epidural, making her pretty much Wonder Woman. And at 8 weeks old, he's easily the cutest, sweetest, most wonderful baby ever. And Sawyer wasn't the only new man we welcomed to the family. Matt's mom married the kind and wonderful Dr. Jeff at the beginning of September. He's a great guy, my kids love him, and he's a real live doctor who will come over long after the pediatrician's office has closed and look in my children's cruddy ears. Bonus!!!! So a big, belated blog congratulations to Elizabeth and Michael, and Pat and Jeff. And now the weather is finally starting to cool down, and the kids are back in school, and I actually feel like writing again. Unfortunately for you, I'm going to start out by complaining.

If you've been hanging around here for a while, you know that the twins had a rough start in life that led to developmental delays and therapy of all kinds. As babies they did physical therapy, and I was so proud when they "graduated." They also did some speech therapy, and I was also proud when they no longer qualified for speech therapy through early intervention. It felt like they might be moving past the delays. They weren't.

I knew their speech wasn't progressing like it should be. Mason was astonishingly articulate at their age- anyone could understand what he was saying. The only person that consistently understands the twins' speech is me, and I only get about 85% of what they say. And it hasn't just been speech, it's behavior too. They just don't have the maturity that you'd expect from 3 1/2 year olds. They seem more like "old 2's" than mid threes.

Once school started back, I couldn't really ignore it like I was desperately trying to. We went to orientation, met the kids in their class, saw a few familiar faces from last year's class, everything seemed fine. Until the moms started talking about when their kids turned three. Everyone was at least four months younger than the twins. Some kids weren't even three yet. It was obvious- My kids got held back.

And they should have. Developmentally, they are right where they belong. Unfortunately, that's about six months behind where they chronologically should be. So I agonized and worried about it for a month. You know, "What's wrong with them? What am I doing wrong? What does this mean for their future?" Had a few nightmares about them flunking out of preschool, the usual crazy-mom obsessing kind of stuff. But my fear of hearing the worst kept my head in the sand. I didn't want to hear that they truly were delayed, because in my mind, that means I failed them. Basically, my ego was standing in the way of me doing what was best for my children. So I decided to pull my head out of my ass and try to do something about it.

We had an appointment with the school system speech therapist today. It wasn't great. The kids were fairly uncooperative- Will's on steroids for the 9000th bout of bronchitis, and the 'roid rage is out of control- and they made it as hard as they possibly could for the therapist to evaluate them. The bad news is that their articulation sucks, and their sentence structure isn't really as advanced as it should be. She pointed out what I already knew, they act and talk like old twos instead of mid threes. They've always been about six months behind developmentally, so she said that the good news is that they are progressing, it's a delay, not a disorder, and you can fix a delay. We've still got to go through more formal evaluation stuff before we're approved for therapy, so we're going back next week.

This is good. It's good that they're going to get the help they need to function at their correct age level. And I just keep telling myself that, because at the moment, I feel like a big, fat failure of a mother. And I realize that's kind of dumb. Having children that are developmentally delayed doesn't make me a bad mom. Mason is really advanced for his age, but that's not because I'm the world's most amazing mother. Our kids are who they are. They each have strengths and struggles, and I have to remember that those don't define me as a mother. True, they are my life's work, and certainly a measure of their success rests on me. But I have to remember that sometimes they're going to fail and fail and struggle, and instead of worrying how it reflects on me, I need to focus on helping them get up and get back out there. My job isn't to present the face of the perfect mom to the world, because I'm not one, and trying to pass myself off as one won't fool anybody. I'm disorganized, impatient, kind of overwhelmed, my house is messy, I yell too much and I rack up ridiculous fines at the library because I'm too lazy to return books on time. I am miles and miles away from perfect, and I need to be okay with that. Because in spite of my imperfection, I love my kids more than life itself. I will do anything and go anywhere to give them whatever support they need to have a wonderful life. I will not equate needing help with weakness, because my kids deserve better than that.

So keep your fingers crossed that they'll be approved for speech therapy, and it we be a great thing for them. I'm praying that this is going to be a big year of growth for them. I'm hoping that by this time next year, we'll be amazed at how far they've come, and that I'll be laughing at myself for worrying that getting held back in preschool will lead to ongoing school setbacks to the point that they're the only fourth graders with a mustache!

Garden Envy

2011-07-18T13:07:00.002-04:00

I've been gone for a week. Did you miss me? We had a sun and fun-filled week at the beach, and I promise that a photo-heavy post about our adventures will be coming soon. But until then, enjoy my latest tale from the home front.....

I am a terrible gardener. Really, really terrible. Part of it is that I just don't have a feel for plants. I don't really know how to take care of them, I never manage the perfect water ratio, I don't know when to cut them back to maximize their fullness, and I'm too lazy to learn. Really, my lack of horticultural success can be summed up in two words- I'm lazy.

I don't know if you've ever been to Georgia in the summer time, but I don't recommend it. It's roughly as hot as the surface of the sun, with the added bonus of humidity so thick you feel like you're suffocating the moment you step out the door. And our yard seems to be blessed with a particularly voracious breed of mosquito large enough to carry off small household pets. It's unpleasant. And the only truly sunny, plant-appropriate spot is really inconveniently located at a far, underused corner of the yard. It takes actual effort to get out there and water it, so I don't.

Every year I vow to do better. I plant stuff in the spring with visions of glorious herbs dancing in my brain. Then I water it good for a week or so. Then it gets hot and I slack off. Then it gets hotter and I give up all together, leaving the poor, parched plants to the mercy of elements. A few valient specimens manage to straggle weakly along with only the occasional rainstorm providing a much-needed drink. I feel bad about it, but only when I look at them. And since they're in the aforementioned underused corner, the guilt isn't strong enough to ensure their survival. Like I said- lazy. But yesterday, I went to visit my sister and her lush jungle of herbs, tomatoes and okra inspired me. It was awesome. I was jealous. I coveted her basil. So I decided to give the herb garden one more try.

Now, I'm not stupid. I know that if I plant them in the same place, they will die. So I decided to switch things up. I had some planter boxes filled with good dirt left over from last year's lackluster tomatoes. I hadn't bothered to plant anything in them this year, so I decided to put them to work. I transplated the basil, mint, rosemary and chives that were barely clinging to life. I also added some more basil, dill and a jalapeno pepper plant. And here's where I made the change that might, just might, allow them to survive. Rather than leaving them in the sunny Sahara of the yard, I moved the boxes onto the deck.

It's not as sunny, but I had a basil plant up there that a friend had given me, and it was doing beautifully. Well, until Mason sprayed it with a whole can of Deep Woods Off, it was doing beautifully. (He was trying to keep the bugs off.) Had it not been the victim of pesticide-based murder, it was showing great potential. And it was close enough to the air-conditioned house that I actually watered it, and used it in spaghetti sauce. And if I only have to walk onto the deck to water them and use them, and if they're directly in my line of sight so I can't ignore their pitiful wilting, I might take care of them. So I think the relocated herb garden might just stand a chance. We'll see. If not, I'll probably just have to give up my dreams of fresh herbs and accept my black thumb!

Proud to Be an American

2011-07-05T07:54:00.006-04:00

I love, love, love the 4th of July. It's fairly laid back as far as holidays go, but it celebrates some of the best things in life- love of country, fireworks, and barbecue. And I can't help but embrace any holiday where a cookout is required fare! Being good, patriotic Americans, we hosted a cookout of our own. It wasn't anything huge or elaborate, just another family and our favorite bagger from Publix (long story), but it was fun.

The steadily dripping rain killed my plans for a cute outdoor setup. So instead of a cute tablescape under the party tent, we had grownups with cocktails in camp chairs staying dry while the kids had the run of the house and yard.

I don't think anyone minded the lack of a festive table too much. We managed to stuff our faces just fine without it! And it did nothing to diminish the awesomeness of the piece' de resistance- the cake...

It looked like a regular, kind of festive cake, but it had a hidden surprise. When we cut into it, we revealed........

An American flag!!!!!

That's right. Every slice was a flag. How freakin' cool is that?????

After cake, it was getting dark enough for sparklers. We decided to throw caution to the wind and give all the kids sparklers- even the twinados. Hell, if giving three-year-olds flaming sticks isn't good parenting, I don't know what is.

They loved them, and Hays only burned one finger a tiny bit, so I consider that a success. And the older kids managed their sparklers with nary an injury.

Well, there was a near-fatality involving Mason and a rubber monkey. But hey, if you give boys fire, somthing's going to get burned.

Once it got dark enough, it was time for Matt's awesome fireworks display. Okay, so it doesn't exactly rival the one at Lenox mall, but the kids sure were excited.

Everytime Matt would light one, Hays would dance the whole time it was sparking and burning, then Will would clap and scream "Yay!!!!!!!!" when it was done. It was hilarious every single time. As we were watching our kids cheer on the fireworks, I looked at my friend, LeAnne, and said, "This is so much fun!!" And it was. Seriously, it was perfect. It was so small-town Americana, and we talked about how wonderful it is to be able to raise our children like this. If days like this don't make you love America, nothing will. Hooray for tiny towns, good friends, happy, healthy children, fireworks, and flag cakes, and the men and women that keep our wonderful country safe!!

Living In Gangsta's Paradise

2011-06-30T11:30:00.003-04:00

My house is in shambles. Not just the messy, stuff everywhere kind of shambles. The literal, falling-down-around-your-ears kind. Okay, that may be a bit of an exaggeration. It's structurally sound (as far as we know) but it's fairly decrepit, and growing more so by the day.

First of all, it's a fairly old house- built in 1969. (Sorry to those readers who were built in '69 or earlier. I'm not calling you old. 40 isn't old for people, just houses.) And it's not a terrible house. It's small, and it's fairly boring architecturally speaking, but it's okay. It was by far the best of the bunch in our meager price range when we were looking to buy our first house four years ago. And we were proud to get it. We were even more proud after we converted the carport into a snazzy addition, slapped on a new roof, and painted everything that would stand still. Then the bottom dropped out of the housing market and we watched all that lovely equity fly right out the window.

But we're (mostly) okay with that. Except when the tax assessment comes. Then we have to decide if we should cry, tear out our hair, or just get really, really drunk. But otherwise we don't worry too much about it. After all, what are you gonna do?? The big things we can deal with- it's the little things that are getting to me.

I currently have two big holes in my kitchen cabinets. They used to be drawers, but they completely fell apart, leaving gaping holes behind. My in-laws were going to replace them and install new doors on all the cabinets as a Christmas gift. But then the oven died, and since eating trumps kitchen appearance, they replaced the oven for us instead. Maybe next year.......

I also have a hole in the bathroom ceiling. Well, it's not really a hole, more just a completely open view to the non-working bathroom fan (and its 40 years of accumulated dust and grime). It went out on us a few weeks ago. Matt tried to fix it, but it's a bigger job than he can manage, so we have to leave that to an electrician. In the meantime, the clip holding the vent cover broke, so now the cover hangs down forlornly, giving us a bird's eye view to the inner workings of the bathroom ventilation system. It's lovely.

All the other appliances are working at the moment (knock wood.) But working doesn't necessarily mean they're functioning properly. Take my washer for example. There's something wrong with lid. It doesn't catch, so after it's done filling with water, it just sits there until you hit the top of it- then it goes into the wash cycle. Mason loves it. He came running in today when I was putting on laundry asking, "Is it time to hit the washer? I want to hit it!!" My sister says it reminds her of that show "The Middle." And while that show is funny, it's not really what we aspire to be.

And yet there's not much we can do about it. We don't have the money for major improvements, and the kids find a new way to destroy something every day. Just this morning, Will decided to make his time-out in his room productive by peeling a huge chunk of paint off the door. And my dog thoughtfully contributed to the science experiment that is the playroom carpet by puking on it not ten minutes ago.

So it's a constant shambles, and getting worse by the day. It makes me nuts, but I'm trying to focus on the bright side. At least we have a house. It keeps us warm in the winter, cool in the summer, and dry in the rain. It shelters my children, and gives them a huge backyard full of mud puddles to play in. And during those five minutes a month that it's actually clean, it's fairly cute (peeled paint and bio hazard playroom carpet notwithstanding). I guess we've achieved the American dream....

When the Inmates Run the Asylum

2011-06-27T12:31:00.005-04:00

Today was one of those days where the house was so incredibly, mind-bogglingly disgusting that cleaning could not be put off for another second. It's remarkably hard to get any sort of housework done with the wildebeests underfoot (shocking, right?). With that in mind, and knowing that they desperately needed some outside time before it got too hot to breathe, I sent all three out in the backyard. I bribed Mason with the promise of an hour of video games if he would please just play with his brothers and not yell at them or boss them around. He wasn't overly thrilled with the prospect, but the siren song of the Wii won out.

The problem with leaving a seven year old in charge is that it almost guarantees some sort of disaster. You know that some body's going to fight or get hurt, or some sort of unholy mess is going to be created. But I really needed to get some housework done, so I decided it was worth the risk. Luckily, there were no tears or injuries, but there was sho' nuff some mess........

"What? That? A little dirt (and nudity)?" you might be asking yourself. No, my friends, it went beyond a little dirt. See, we had a pretty good rain last night. And a pretty good rain in a backyard that's 97% dirt equals............

Mud. Lots and lots of mud. So of course the little guys, after briefly playing nicely (and clothed) in the sandbox, decided it was time to strip naked and play in the biggest mud puddle they could find.

And, boy, did they find a good one. Worst part is, I knew this was going on. I was checking on them frequently from the window. But I just shrugged my shoulders and said, "Eh, they'll wash," and went on with my cleaning, dusting and vacuuming. I managed to almost finish two whole rooms during their hour of muddy fun, so it was well worth it.

Don't you agree?

I Haven't Fallen Off the Earth, I'm Just Lazy

2011-06-23T11:52:00.006-04:00

Why, oh why, is it so very hard for me to blog during the summer? It's not because there's nothing going on. It's actually been a busy, fairly interesting summer so far. Mason turned seven and the world's most awesome ninja-themed birthday party. We had it in the backyard, and I spent a month making props for games, decorations and party favors. It was seriously awesome- he said it was the best birthday he's ever had. It totally deserves a post of its own, but since it's probably won't get one, you'll have to settle for a couple of pictures.

I made the karate kid headbands for all the kids. Oh yeah, they were cool.

He got a real, honest-to-goodness ninja suit for his birthday.

Happy ninja family!!!

In the week after the birthday party was over, the twins spent as much time as possible outside. They love playing in their pool- especially if they can do it naked. Those boys LOVE to be naked. It frequently looks like we're running some sort of preschool nudist colony over here.

While they were finding as many opportunities to strip down as they possibly could, I was busy getting ready for Matt and I to go out of town. We took a kid-free trip for five whole days, not just out of town- out of the country!! Okay, so it wasn't much out of the country, but we did cross the border into Canada. We needed passports and everything!! Matt was attending a business conference in Toronto, so his awesome boss let me tag along. We spent a couple of days at Niagara Falls....

Then we went to Toronto and spent a couple of fun days there. I got to meet up with a friend who took us around the cool parts of town. And I got to hang out and relax while Matt did the boring conference stuff. It was a great trip. And the grandparents survived five whole days with the boys. They took 24 hour rotating shifts, and I left 13 pages of notes detailing anything they could possibly need to know, so they made it through relatively unscathed.

Since then, we've just been trying to survive the ridiculous heat wave. The kids had a week of Bible School. Well, Mason did. The twins struggled through two days before I finally gave up and decided that they just weren't quite ready this year. Maybe next year....

Mason is at cub scout day camp all this week and he's getting to do all sorts of cool stuff. He's become a big fan of archery. He'll probably want a bow and arrow, but I think we all know that it would have disasterous consequences in this household. He'll probably want a BB gun too, but that's not happening either. Around here "You'll shoot your eye out" isn't just a warning, it's a guarantee.

And now, we're just a few weeks away from beach week!!!!! Woohoo, I can't wait. As long as my sister's baby doesn't decide to make an early appearance, it will be a great trip. But I've already told her to make it very clear to him that he'd better stay put until we get back. If he messes up our vacation, I will dislike him forever, no matter how cute he is. So he'd better just keep that in mind......

Oh Summer, How I Loathe Thee

2011-05-24T16:44:00.003-04:00

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

2011-05-15T21:17:00.003-04:00

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

2011-05-08T19:05:00.004-04:00

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

2011-05-02T11:42:00.002-04:00

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......

The Week In Review

2011-04-24T19:32:00.003-04:00

There were several things that I wanted to blog about this week, but I never got around to it. So I'm just going to inundate you with bloggy goodness, and give you 2-3 posts smashed into one. I know, you're so excited you can hardly stand it. So fasten your seat belts, folks, and get ready for the Reader's Digest condensed version of our week.....

First, I have to brag on my Mason. I had a conference with his teacher on Tuesday, and it was AWESOME!!! You may remember that scholarly pursuits haven't always been Mason's strong suit. As smart as he is, he still struggles with focus and motivation. But lately, he's made great strides with that. His teacher said he's showing such maturity, and that his work is truly starting to reflect his ability. She said that my smart baby sets the bar high for his classmates and is a great role model!! (I was concerned for a moment there that she was talking about the right child. There is another Mason in his class, but she swears it's mine!)

Mason apparently really likes math- a skill that certainly didn't come from me! He likes numbers, and he enjoys being challenged by math. I was starting to question if this math-lover had been switched at birth when Miss Anne mentioned that he's a fantastic reader. (Whew, he is mine!) She said that he's a very expressive reader, and that he loves non-fiction. This came as a surprise to me. He's never mentioned it, and I'm strictly fiction (with a biography thrown in here and there) so I always got him fiction books from the library. Well, after hearing that helpful hint, I went straight to the library and got him a stack on non-fiction books in topics I know he likes. My smarty-pants read them all as soon as he got home, and I had to take him back to the library after dinner to check out more!

Okay, enough bragging. But seriously, I was soooooo proud. Speaking as a mom and as a former teacher, I thought my heart might burst with pride and joy. As parents, Matt and I make PLENTY of mistakes, but here's solid proof that we're doing something right!

Part 2- the twins' preschool Easter party.

Oh lord, that was an adventure. My beloved three hours of kid-free time was drastically reduced by the preschool Easter egg hunt/party. By the time I got home after dropping them off, I had basically an hour before I had to head back to school. Boo!!!! I thought about being a lame mom and skipping it, but no, I went. Had I known what was in store for me, I would have brought reinforcements.

I figured the egg hunt would be on the playground, an enclosed area, and would be no big deal. Alas, I was wrong. Other groups were using the playground, so their class egg hunt was in an open area bordered by a parking lot and a steep ravine. It took Will approximately 3 minutes to discover the edge of the ravine (I know, he must be slipping. Danger Mouse would usually discover something like that in less than 30 seconds!) So I alternated between helping them find eggs and keeping them from tumbling down the hill and/or dashing into the parking lot. Sigh....

The classroom party was actually fine. There was food, so they were occupied. I even got a full five minutes to talk to another mom!! The trouble came when we were leaving. The school's director had brought her pet bunny. All the kids were fascinated, and loved petting the bunny through the bars of the cage. But at the end of the day, Miss Cheryl let the bunny out.

That poor bunny was swarmed by toddlers. The rabbit did amazingly well. Seriously, I think she tranquilized that thing, because it was incredibly calm in the face of preschooler madness. My boys loved petting the bunny- for about three minutes. Then they wanted to climb on the cage, play with the bunny's water bottle, carry the bowl of water to the bunny and try to make him drink it.... All you could hear was, "No Will! Stop, Hays! Put that back!!!" I pretty much had to drag them out kicking and screaming, but we survived. And more importantly, so did the bunny.

Part 3- Easter

Today was Easter. I would have pictures, but alas, my camera is messed up. We had a VERY low-key day. We had a kind offer from Matt's mom to have Easter dinner at her house, but I wasn't up to attempting to make the kids behave like humans, so we declined and I made Easter dinner at home. It's a good thing I did, because after a morning of watching a Sesame Street video where kids are encouraged to eat like Cookie Monster, that's what my twins did with their lunch. Yeah, it was as gross as you'd imagine, so I'm glad we didn't subject anyone else to that horror.

We managed to make it out to my aunt's house this afternoon. My cousins and their twins are visiting, so we got all the kids together for an egg hunt and outdoor fun. They all had a really good time, and completely wore themselves out. All in all, I felt like we'd observed Easter in the appropriate fashion. Okay, not really appropriate- we didn't even attempt church. But we celebrated in all the secular ways, and we ate ham and deviled eggs, so there you go.

So there. Three blog stories in one epically long post. I hope that makes up for neglecting you all week. And I hope that you all had a great Easter, surrounded by people you love!!

Stinky's Glorious Return

2011-04-14T16:59:00.002-04:00

We had a bit of a crisis this week. Stinky Monkey, Hays's beloved monkey lovey that he's had since he was a tiny NICU resident, disappeared. Hays had him Sunday afternoon while I was fixing lunch, but by nap time, he was nowhere to be found. We looked for him in all the usual places, but still hadn't found him by bedtime. This was unusual, but not unheard of.

The search intensified on Monday. We had checked all of the hiding spots (well, all the ones we know about), so we started searching every nook and cranny. We literally searched under every piece of furniture, in every closet/hamper/drawer, in the air vents, in the refrigerator, everywhere. Matt even searched through the previous day's trash to see if Haysie had tossed poor Stinky in, but he was nowhere to be found.

I'm not going to lie, at this point I was literally praying for Stinky's return. Stinky is special. He was a gift from my cousins and their children, and Hays has slept with Stinky since he was a few weeks old. In fact, when he was in the NICU, he slept on Stinky. He was so tiny that his little body fit perfectly on that soft monkey. So I couldn't stand the thought that we might have lost him forever. But we had checked every place we could possibly check, and we were starting to lose hope.

Tuesday and Wednesday passed with no sign of Stinky Monkey. Hays had given up, and was sleeping with Will's monkey. He's just like Stinky, only a lighter color, and Will had very kindly offered it to Hays to sleep with him. I had accepted the fact that we might not see Stinky again, but we were all sad about it. (Not to mention wracking our brains about how that monkey could have just disappeared into thin air!!)

But this afternoon, wonder of wonders, a miracle occurred. Hays found Stinky!!!!!! Turns out, he had hidden him in the front pocket of Mason's backpack and zipped him up. We never put anything in that pocket, so we had no idea he was there. It just so happened that Hays was playing with Mason's backpack today and discovered him. He ran up to me with a huge smile on his face, proudly brandishing his beloved monkey!! We were all ridiculously excited. There was so much cheering and hugging- it was actually kind of absurd.

We were all relieved to have Stinky back. None more than Hays, who immediately grabbed all his blankies, piled them on the couch, and demanded that I come cuddle with him and Stinky. And he's had his trusty monkey by his side ever since! So Stinky's back, and we've discovered a new hiding spot, and everyone will be resting easy tonight!!

I'll just have a salad....

2011-04-06T14:38:00.002-04:00

When you think salad, you generally think of leafy greens, tomatoes, maybe some carrots or cucumbers, right? And most places, that's what you'd get. But in the south, the term "salad" can encompass a multitude of things. Sure, we have the garden greens variety, and lots of delicious mayonnaise based dishes like potato salad and chicken salad, but look in any church cookbook, and you will find things that bear no nutritional resemblance to their leafy green counterparts.

I was flipping through a church cookbook given to me by Matt's aunt. It has lots of good recipes. I've made several things from it that have been delicious. But when I happened across some of these "salad" recipes, all I could do was laugh! Not a leaf of lettuce and nary a tomato in the bunch, but there was plenty of Cool Whip, canned fruit, marshmallows, cream cheese, and enough sugar to make a cake blush. And that doesn't even cover the ones that feature Jello as a central ingredient. But my favorite, my absolute laugh-till-you-cry favorite was, I kid you not, "Snickers Salad." Yes, Snickers, as in the delicious peanut/caramel/nougat confection we all know and love.

I know you're wondering, "What, pray tell, is in a Snickers Salad?" Well, my friends, here is the recipe as it appears in the Christ Our King and Savior Catholic Church cookbook...

Snickers Salad

3 Granny Smith Apples 1 bag fun size snickers

3 red delicious apples or macintosh 1 (8 0z) Cool Whip

Do not peel apples. Dice apples in half inch pieces. Cut snickers into 6 pieces. (Freezing for about 15 minutes makes cutting easier, not so sticky.) Mix apples and Snickers with Cool Whip and refrigerate for at least 6 hours.

So those of you who are trying to diet and eat sensibly, take heart. Salads can, apparently, be far more exciting and delicious than you might have imagined. And the next time I decide to have a salad for lunch, I'll remember that candy bars are perfectly reasonable additions!!

Firemen

2011-04-04T17:01:00.005-04:00

Today it was really nice and warm outside. The boys are on spring break, and my dad had taken Mason to a movie, so it was just me and the twinners. I decided to be a nice mommy and let them play with the hose since they love anything water-related. They were pretending to be fireman, and they were doing a very good job sharing the hose.

Will quickly discovered that he could make a really big mess by putting his finger over the sprayer...

And they were having a great time spraying everything in the yard...

Including themselves..

And mommy....

Then Hays decided to turn the hose on Will. Hays thought it was hysterical. Will? Not so much...

Will thought it was pretty darn funny when the tables were turned. Hays disagreed.

But they managed to reconcile and went back to working together to be good firemen.

"Wow! Look! I fireman!!!"

I Love Lucy

2011-03-28T07:48:00.007-04:00

This is Lucy. She and I have been together for a long time. My college boyfriend and I adopted her from a south Georgia animal shelter almost 13 years ago. The shelter workers had the cats divided into two groups- the "cool" cats and the "not cool" cats. None of the "cool" kitties really caught my eye, so I decided to check out the uncool group. As soon as I walked in the room, this pretty little black cat started to meow at me. The minute I picked her up, she snuggled in my arms, reached her paw up, and rested it on my cheek. I was a goner. So we adopted her and adored her, and when the boyfriend and I parted ways, Lucy came with me.

Not long after, Matt and I started dating. He knew that Lucy and I were a package deal, but Matt hates cats. He was perfectly nice to Lucy, but I didn't know if he'd ever really bond with her. That concern was laid to rest when I came home from working a shift at the video store to find Matt holding Lucy up to the ceiling so she could catch a bug she'd been chasing. And even if he won't admit it, I know he loves Lucy almost as much as I do. He still hates cats, but he loves Lucy.

And things have rocked along pretty smoothly with Luce ever since. Oh sure, there have been some hiccups along the way. She hid for an entire month after Tess joined the family, coming out only at night, under a cover of darkness to eat. Then there was a terrifying night when we thought we'd lost her while we were moving to a new house. Luckily, Matt's dad found her hiding in a cabinet at the old house! She made herself fairly scarce when Mason was born (though as he's gotten older and more gentle, she's decided he's one of her favorite people), and now that the twins are here, she's stays holed up in my room during most of the daylight hours. But she's been mostly happy and healthy for more than a decade.

Until now. Now my sweet kitty girl has a tumor. It's in her mouth and we have no idea if it's malignant or benign, we just know it has to come out. So she's scheduled to have surgery tomorrow. It's going to cost a small fortune- $500-$600, but what can you do? She's in good health otherwise, and as long as the tumor isn't in her jawbone, she should be fine after the surgery. As long as they can get it all, she should have several good years ahead of her. Now, if it is in her jawbone, she's pretty much out of luck. As much as we love her, kitty chemo just isn't an option for us. But we're hoping and praying that this surgery will take care of it, and that we have lots of years left with our furry friend. So, do me a favor, say a little prayer, send good vibes her way-whatever works for you- that Miss Lucille will come through this with flying colors.

Making Progress

2011-03-16T07:41:00.004-04:00

Okay, so maybe you remember that Matt and I got an elliptical back in January, and I was bound and determined to get my flabby ass into shape. So I guess it's time to check in and let you know how that little endeavor is going. Has the elliptical been relegated to an expensive coat rack? I am happy to report that it has not. No, that SOB is still punishing me on a several times weekly basis. Has it gotten any easier? No, no it has not. I'm still a panting, sweaty mess every time I get off that thing, and I still feel like there's a strong possibility that I might die at some point during every workout. But the good news is, it's working!!!!

I've lost about 12 pounds, which puts me over half way to my goal. Honestly, I find that number a bit frustrating- 12 pounds doesn't seem like much in two months. But when I bitch about it, Matt reminds me that I've built a fair amount of muscle, and that weighs more than fat. I've lost several inches and a good bit of jiggle, so I try to focus on that more than the stubborn numbers on the scale. And I'm definitely more fit. Mason and I have returned to our evening walks now that we've got daylight after dinner, and the hills that used to kill me are now easy as pie. (Mmmmmm.... pie....) And I have to admit that I'd probably lose more weight if I was stricter about my diet. I do pretty good during the week, but I kind of let things go on the weekend. C'est la vie, life's too short to live on broiled fish, and I don't want to be skinny that bad.

I've still got a ways to go before I'm happy, but I've got another couple of months before I have to face the most horrifying of horrors- bathing suit season. And quite frankly, I think it would take more than exercise and diet to make me happy in a swimsuit. That would require a scalpel, and I just can't afford the tummy tuck/boob lift/lipo that would give me a "beach body." I'm trying to make peace with the fact that you can only do so much with a body that has housed three people. And it's even worse when it acted as a duplex last time around.

But hey, it's better than it was two months ago, so yay me!!! And I'm totally kicking Matt's butt when it comes to elliptical usage. He hasn't used it since he had the flu a month ago, so I get to be smug about my commitment to fitness! So that's where things stand in Operation Taking Back My Life 2011- I'm (a little) skinnier, more fit, and I got a really cute haircut, so I'm calling it a success so far.

Ol' Yeller

2011-03-14T07:51:00.002-04:00

I am a yeller. I admit it. Some moms manage to keep a calm, collected tone no matter what ridiculous, annoying thing their kids do. Me? Not so much. I yell. A lot.

I wish that I didn't. I don't like that it teaches my kids to yell at each other (which they do, constantly) I don't like how it makes me sound. Growing up, I had a neighbor that yelled at her children non-stop, and you could hear her across the neighborhood. She was pretty much the white-trash queen, and that is not something I aspire to be. Of course, I also witnessed her beat the crap out of her kids with a plastic baseball bat in her backyard on more than one occasion, and I haven't sunk to those levels. And yet, I find myself hollering at my children in the backyard frequently, and all I can do is shake my head in shame and wonder 'What must the neighbors think?"

But in the past few days, Will's developed a new habit that I hope will help curb my yelling tendencies. Any time I raise my voice, he puts his finger to his lips and says, "Ssshhh, Mommy, be quiet.." I know it's probably not such a good idea to let my three year old reprimand me, but honestly, kid's got a point. And perhaps getting called out by my toddler will help me be a little more aware of how much I'm yelling at my kids. After all, yelling is way more effective when you don't do it all the time. Then they know you mean business.

Hopefully, I'll be able to turn myself into one of those calm, cool, collected mommies. Okay, that's probably too lofty a goal- you know how crazy my kids are, sometimes yelling is necessary. So instead I'll aim for not yelling unless I really need to. Maybe I can teach them to keep their cool by keeping mine. Hell, anything that reduces the noise level around here is worth a shot.

Escape to Bitch Mountain

2011-03-09T10:26:00.004-05:00

Finally, after months of waiting, I had my girl's weekend with my mom and sisters. You may remember that my sister, Elizabeth, rented us a cabin in the mountains as the Best. Christmas. Present. Ever. We were supposed to go a couple of months ago, but had to postpone due to widespread illness. But finally, the weekend that Matt had nicknamed "Escape to Bitch Mountain" had arrived!

We left Friday afternoon, which meant a fairly harrowing trip through rush hour traffic in Atlanta. We narrowly avoided a multi-car pile-up when mom practically came to a stop in the middle of the interstate when she thought she missed her exit, but we escaped with only a few dirty looks. Nightfall was closing in on us as we drove further and further into the hills of North Georgia, and we were racing the dark to get to our VERY isolated cabin in the woods.

I'm not gonna lie, four women alone in a cabin in the woods can be a little scary. I mean, that's how horror movies start. We were slightly jumpy and on high alert lest we be attacked by marauding hillbillies. At one point, mom had stepped out on the back porch only to race back in with a terrified look on her face. My stomach just about dropped out of my body when she said, "I think I hear someone walking around out there." Luckily, it turned out to be a decorative flag brushing up against the porch railing, and not Cletus the Hillbilly coming to get us. (But in mom's defense, it really did sound like someone walking through the leaves.) We passed the night without further scares- well, I think Paige was slightly terrified when we started singing the score of The Sound of Music, but who could blame her.

We didn't do much the next day. We spent a lazy morning drinking coffee and talking. We did have a hillbilly encounter in the form of a maintenance man- I don't know his name, but we called him Pappy. I'm pretty sure that given the chance, he would have taken Mama off to his hillbilly hideaway to make her his bride. But considering his diminutive stature, community theatre sweatshirt, and love of scented candles, we were fairly certain the four of us could take him if he tried. We spent a couple of hours bumming around the rather unimpressive town of Blue Ridge, but we were back by mid-afternoon and spent the rest of the day drinking (except for preggo Elizabeth) and watching movies.

We survived the storm of the century Saturday night without incident, and headed back towards civilization Sunday morning. We had a good time, and it was a much needed break from being the mommy. We definitely want to do it again, but no more mountains. Next time, we'd like to be a little closer to other human beings. It's just a little more relaxing when you're not worried about being killed in your sleep, ya' know??

Aquarium Adventures

2011-02-28T07:40:00.007-05:00

Ready for a fun-filled day!

Pardon the blurriness, but this is Hays trying to touch the penguins

I'm not sure if Hays is trying to touch a star fish or dive in!

Driving the shrimp boat!

Hays, Matt and Aunt Bea

This is sooooooo cool!!!!

Will's trying to figure out a way to get in there....

Will was petting a sting ray

Hays thought the fish were totally cool

So, we've already established that Matt and I are total slacker parents when it comes to taking our kids places, especially if it takes more than 15 minutes to get there. And if we have to go all the way to Atlanta to do it, we generally don't. The Georgia Aquarium is no exception. It's been open for several years, and we've always said kind of vaguely, "Oh, we should take the kids to the aquarium." But, of course, we never did. Until this weekend!!!

Rather than buy the kids another piece of plastic junk for their birthday, my parents decided to give them a trip to the aquarium instead. They bought tickets for all of us, themselves, and my sisters, and Matt and I put on our big girl panties, and took the kids to the big city. I knew it would be kind of crowded, but I figured we had six adults for three kids, so it would be a piece of cake, right? Well, sure, for most families. But most families don't have Will.

Will loves to go places. He loves to explore, and if we had just turned him loose and left him to his own devices, he would have been happy as a pig in mud. Obviously, that wasn't an option, so we encountered more than a few battles of wills (or battles with Will.) Yeah, he liked the exhibits- for about five seconds- then he wanted to climb on the rocks, pull on the plants, run as fast as he could in the opposite direction that everyone else was going, anything and everything except what we wanted him to do. That led to lots of us scooping him up, much to his displeasure, which he made clear by kicking and screaming. Or us trying to take his hand, to which he would respond by going completely limp so we were forced to drag him along. It was lovely.

Mason and Hays, on the other hand, LOVED the aquarium. Mason declared it, "the coolest place he's ever been," and that's coming from a kid who's been to Disney World. Hays loved the animals, especially the penguins. He tried desperately to touch them through the glass, and when another child dared to put his hand by the penguin that Hays had claimed as his own, Hays rebuked him with a stern, "No!!" He wasn't quite so fond of the shark tunnel. Whenever one would swim by, he would back away saying "No, no, no!" I guess he was afraid he'd become a shark snack!

All in all, it was a cool trip, even with Will's shenanigans. We got to see some amazing things. I wanted to take an otter home with me, but Matt said no. I was really glad we got to take them, and REALLY, REALLY glad we had my parents and sisters to help us with the kid wrangling!

Happy Birthday and Such

2011-02-19T22:24:00.005-05:00

We celebrated the twins' third birthday today. When Mason turned three, I did a big party with lots of kids. We borrowed a bouncy house and we got one of the local firefighters to bring the firetruck to our house. It was super cool, and we have these great pictures of the kids on the firetruck- I mean it was one cool party for a three year old. So what did I do for the twins' big three? Ummm, bought a plastic Cars tablecloth, and Cars plates. Shoot, I even went all out and sprang for the Lightening McQueen happy birthday banner, and that set me back almost $4!

So yeah, not quite as much effort was put forth for their third birthday. And I was kind of feeling bad about that. I mean, I did put some effort in. I made their birthday cake- and it definitely ranked up there as one of the best I've done. But still, no firetruck, no bouncy house, no kids..... So I thought I might be setting myself up for some major resentment down the road when the twins realized that they'd gotten the short end of the birthday party stick.

But honestly, the party itself changed my mind. Because, while it admittedly wasn't as elaborate as Mason's, it was awesome. We had so many people here to celebrate my wonderful boys that we couldn't even fit them all inside! We had to move the party out back to have enough room for this big, wonderful family that was just surrounding my boys with love. And I looked at all those people that love them enough to spend a beautiful Saturday afternoon celebrating their very existence, and I thought, "My god, they're lucky." They are cherished, and what could be better than that? Who needs the firetruck - we've got family.

So I don't think my guys got shafted after all. I think they had a wonderful birthday party, and I hope that as they grow older, they can look back at the pictures of this day and know just how lucky and loved they are.

Valentine's Insanity

2011-02-15T12:46:00.002-05:00

Every classroom needs a suck-mom. You know, that mom who never contributes, and her kids always have the crappiest stuff. And this Valentine's Day, I am wearing the suck-mom crown and sash big time. I have to admit that I'm not really in to Valentine's Day. I don't see the need for a bunch of cards, candy, balloon bouquets and fuzzy stuffed animals with big eyes, clutching a heart. And it was never a huge deal when I was growing up. My parents gave us a card and a small box of candy and we exchanged paper valentines with the kids at school. Maybe you'd get really lucky and someone would toss in a box of conversation hearts. But that was about all for Valentine's Day, and that was okay with me. But somehow, in the years (okay, decades) since I was a kid, Valentine's has turned into a huge production.

Not so much at our house- the kids got a little toy and I made each one a card. I did cut Mason's sandwich into a heart shape and made them a funfetti cake, but that's about as far as Matt and I went. In my opinion, that alone would have made for a good Valentine's Day. But those were mere pebbles in the Valentine's avalanche that followed. They got Valentine's presents from all of their grandparents, so stuff was starting to add up. But then they went to school.

Someone please tell me, when the heck did it become customary for EVERY SINGLE KID to include candy with their valentines??? Mason's Valentine bag looked like dadgum Willy Wonka's factory. It was crazy- but it didn't even hold a candle to the twins' nursery school haul. Not only did almost every child include some sort of candy, over half of them made up goody bags!! WTF??? This is preschool- they don't need five pounds of candy! I seriously think they got more candy today than they did at Halloween.

It's ridiculous, and I refuse to buy into it. Therefore, I am the suck mom. I did not put candy with Mason's valentines. I did bend a little bit to peer pressure and got valentines that included tattoos- he's old enough to realize if his valentines suck, and I don't want to embarrass the poor guy. The twins, however, are not old enough to be aware of, or care about the suckiness of their valentines. And since I don't believe in giving toddlers tons of candy, I didn't include any. And their valentines consisted of pink paper cut into hearts on which I wrote "Happy Valentine's Day! Love, Will and Hays" I had planned on letting them decorate them with crayons, but when I said "let's decorate your valentines!" they laughed at me and said no. If they don't care, why should I?

I almost gave in when I took them to school and saw the extravagant valentines the other kids brought. I had to go to Party City this morning to get some stuff for their birthday (which will be a whole other post about how much I suck), and I almost caved and bought some pink and red, heart-covered crap to make up goody bags. But I stood firm. I thought to myself, "I only spent $5 on my own kids. Why would I spend $25 to buy a bunch of plastic crap- that's not even discounted even though it's the day after valentines- for kids that couldn't care less? So I didn't. And I'm totally okay with being one of only three families that didn't load up the preschoolers with sugar. In fact, I consider that my Valentine's gift to their moms.

The F Word

2011-02-10T13:45:00.003-05:00

We got hit by the flu. "Hit" may actually be too gentle of a word- I think it's more appropriate to say we got punched by the flu, or perhaps, b!tch-slapped by the flu. Whatever it was, it was ugly. Matt started feeling kind of sickly Sunday night. I figured he had indulged a bit too much in the deep-fried Superbowl feast I had made, so I kind of shrugged it off. But when he woke up Monday morning shivering so hard the bed was shaking, I thought we might be in for something worse.

I had already planned to take Will to the doctor Monday morning because he had started up with fever/coughing over the weekend. I decided to bring Hays along for the ride since he had some free-flowing snot in a lovely shade of green. Thirty minutes and a couple of positive flu tests later, we had our answer. Our utterly fantastic pediatrician wrote Tamiflu prescriptions for the entire family, saving Matt and I $80 worth of doctor co-pays to officially diagnose the obvious. I was starting to ache and cough at that point, so the doctor told me to go ahead and start the medication as well, and to hold onto Mason's just in case.

The next couple of days were brutal. Matt was sick, soooooooo sick. Seriously, this one ranks in the top three of illnesses he's had in the decade we've been together. The twins, though technically sick, were as full of energy as they usually are. Matt was convinced they're just some evil flu-carriers, because they sure didn't act like they were feeling bad. I hovered somewhere in the middle. Tired, achy, congested, but well enough to stay on my feet and look after everyone else and try to keep the house taken care of to the lowest of standards. It was not fun. Matt and I were starting to feel a little better, and I thought we had weathered the worst of it. But then Mason woke up yesterday with a fever. Yup, five for five. The flu got us all. TKO.

But I think we're on the mend. I'm feeling pretty good, and Matt felt human enough to go into work today. He went late and I don't know how long he'll stay, but he's there. (I did threaten to leave him if he goes overboard and relapses. I know I said "in sickness and in health" but I've got to draw the line somewhere.) Mason's kind of puny, but better than he was yesterday. And the twins are their usual crazy animal selves. To get this crud out of the house, I have purchased a big ol' container of clorox wipes and a can of Lysol, and I'm de-funking everything in sight. You might have won this round, flu, but I'm wiping you out!!!!

Potty Time

2011-02-03T14:48:00.003-05:00

I am attempting to potty train the twinados. It's not going so well. So far, it has resulted in lots of puddles, laundry, nudity and profanity. Imagine it if you will....

Will: I want go potty

Me: Okay, let's go

(take him into the bathroom, take off all his clothes since he insists on being naked when he does his business, put him on the potty seat and wait....)

Will: Hi mommy! Hi mommy! Hi mommy!

Me: Hi, Will. Can you go teetee?

Will: Yesh

(waiting, waiting, growing older by the minute)

Me: Hays! No! Turn off the water, it's HOT. No, stop messing with the toilet paper. Put you brother's toothbrush DOWN. No, sir! You may NOT squeeze out all the soap!! Will!! STOP FLUSHING!! We only flush after we go teetee. Hays! Get out of the bathtub!!

Will: I all done. I need tissue. I flush. NO HAYS!!!! I FLUSH!!! MY TURN!!!!

(fist-fight ensues)

Me: Stop it!! STOP FIGHTING!!! That is ENOUGH! Both of you- out of here!!!

(Tiny naked bottoms running down the hall.)

*End Scene*

And here are some pictures to illustrate the joy of potty training twin toddlers:

After a successful potty attempt, Will decides to ride his bike.

We have a little potty for when the big potty is otherwise occupied. The twins, however, discovered a new use for it.

Potty training is tough on everyone. We could all use a drink

And a snack

Follow Me!

2011-02-01T17:42:00.003-05:00

Want to make sure you don't miss a single bit of bloggy goodness? Then become one of my followers! (not in a culty way- I promise) There's a new button thingie on the right. Click it, and you will be alerted the moment I post a new gem from the forefront of domestic bliss.

Reason To Live

2011-02-01T10:04:00.003-05:00

Sandcastles

Mason's beach buds

Windblown Will and Yaya

The men-folk

They say Disney World is the happiest place on Earth- I'm not convinced.

I'm making our beach reservation today!!!!! We don't go until July, but I always make our reservation in February. I do it for a couple of reasons. First, we want to make sure we get the condo that we like. We stayed in an awesome place last year, and we want first dibs on it this year. Second, it gives me something to look forward to for the next five months. Even though it's dreary and rainy and cold, the beach is on the calendar, and that gives me a reason to live!!

I love the beach so much. Somebody told me the other day "I could never go to the Georgia Coast. The water is brown!" Well, yeah, okay. It's true that the water itself is not likely to win a beauty contest, but who cares? I don't go in the ocean above my knees anyway. Stuff lives in the ocean. Big, scary stuff. So I'm not really worried about the water. But the beach is glorious. Sure the sand is kind of brown, but the shoreline isn't covered with giant, high-rise hotels either. And the town- don't even get me started. If you can find a more charming beach town than St. Simons, I don't even want to hear about it. And even if there was a town that had more charm, it wouldn't have The Crab Trap, and that alone makes a trip to St. Simons worthwhile.

There is one downside to this years' trip- Elizabeth and Michael won't be there. Their stinkin' baby is due two weeks later, so no traveling for Elizabeth. Boo! Darn you, Tater!!! Way to mess up the vacation plans! I will REALLY miss my quality time with my sister- and our trips to Winn Dixie.

I just hope that the kids have as good a time as they did last year. They had so much fun, and they were really good. It was soooooooo much easier than the year before. It actually almost felt like a vacation! So I have high hopes for Beach Trip '11- and those high hopes will keep me going between now and July!!

Tater

2011-01-30T21:29:00.004-05:00

I've been thinking for a while that my family needs a new baby. My boys are getting big, and we are experiencing a major lack of cute, squishy babies. Problem is, I don't want a baby, don't have room for a baby, and couldn't afford a baby even if I did want one. Luckily, my sister did want a baby, has room for a baby, and can even afford one! So......... MY SISTER IS HAVING A BABY!!!!! I am so ridiculously excited. I'm going to be an aunt, and we're finally going to get another sweet, precious, adorable baby around these parts!! Yahooo!!!!

And let me tell you, this is one lucky baby- it's getting a kick-ass set of parents. Elizabeth has spent her whole life doing everything I do, only better. And motherhood is going to be no exception. She is going to be amazing. She is already one of the best teachers I have ever known- she's a thousand times better at it than I ever was. She is so dedicated and so committed to those kids. And she didn't even give birth to any of them, so imagine how great she's going to be with the one that she did! And Michael, my brother-in-law, is going to be a great dad. He'll make sure that this kid is fluent in sarcasm and dry wit by its first birthday. Hell, it will probably learn to roll its eyes before it learns to roll over!

We are so excited for them, and we're so anxious to meet this wonderful little person (currently being referred to as "Tater") that's joining our family. And now I can pass on the maternity clothes, and sit back and watch them leap onto the roller coaster ride that is parenthood. And in those early, sleepless, exhausting days, I will give my sister advice and reassurance, and then I will laugh my butt off as I head off to bed for a full night's sleep!

Coming Around Again

2011-01-24T08:51:00.002-05:00

Lately I've been feeling a sense of deja vu around my house, and it's all because of the twins. They're almost three, and while they're very different than Mason was when he was three, there are a couple of things that are exactly the same. Two in particular- movies and books.

When Mason was three, he was completely obsessed with the movie Cars. He watched it countless times and we had every single car from the movie. I stepped on them constantly and cursed them mightily, but he loved them, so we kept on buying them. He lost interest in cars when he was about 4 1/2 and it was like watching an old friend go. We packed up the multitude of cars with a sigh of nostalgia and let him get on with the business of turning into a big kid. But then, a few weeks ago, Hays discovered Cars and the obsession was resurrected.

He LOVES it. He wants to watch it every day, preferably multiple times a day. And don't get me started on Mater and the Ghost Light. When we busted out the bag of cars we had stashed in a closet, it was like Christmas all over again. Even Mason has a renewed interest in his old favorite. And Hays plays with those cars non-stop. First thing every morning I hear "I want Mater, Sally and Nice and Clean (Lightening McQueen- is that funny, or what?) So once again, little metal cars are scattered all over my house and I'm stepping on them constantly. In fact, I'm currently sporting an angry, purple bruise on the bottom of my foot from Mater- the most unforgiving of the bunch.

And it's not just Cars that has reemerged as a household favorite. Mason's favorite book at three was a book about a garbage truck called I Stink. If you have a three year old boy in your life, I highly recommend it. I've yet to meet one that didn't love it. And Will and Hays are no exception. We read it so many times a day that the boys recite it along with me. And I read it to Mason so many times that I knew most of it by heart even before the twins started with daily requests for "I Tink."

And I have to tell you, I really don't mind the deja vu (Angry, purple bruise not withstanding). It always makes me a little sad when they outgrow something they loved, so it's kind of nice to see old friends come around again. Especially since we spent a small fortune on those dang cars!!

Pits of Hell

2011-01-20T20:36:00.002-05:00

Good evening, ladies and gentleman. I'm reporting live from the pits of hell. Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration. I'm home with a grilled cheese and an enormous glass of wine. Matt's covering the night shift in the pits of hell. Will's in the hospital. Again.
He had a runny nose last Thursday, and the tell-tale cough started Friday morning. I had him in the pediatrician's office by Friday afternoon, and got the usual antibiotics/steroid prescription. But it didn't work. He got sicker over the weekend and kept running a high fever. We were back at the doctor's office Monday, and he busted out the big guns- three days of Rocephin shots. But they didn't work either. I was supposed to take him on Wednesday for his last shot and a follow-up with the doctor. After examining him, our pediatrician agreed that he wasn't getting better and sent us for a chest x-ray.
By "us" I mean me, Will and Hays. Matt and all the local grandparents were tied up, so I had to wrangle two toddlers through the hospital by myself and attempt to control them in the waiting room of the x-ray unit. That didn't go so well. The good news is that no matter how many people are waiting ahead of you, if you come in with two loud, rowdy toddlers that are attempting to dismantle the waiting area, they'll bump you right on up to the front of the line. The bad news is, Will had pneumonia.
So our doctor put him in the hospital early Wednesday afternoon. Thank God for our vast support network of grandparents that stepped in to help with the other two. Because of them, we've been able to keep things running relatively smoothly. We finally realized that it makes no sense for Matt and I to sit up in that little hospital room together. All that happens when we do is that I get bitchy and cranky and take it all out (unfairly) on Matt. But when I'm there by myself, I have to put on my big-girl panties and be the mom and act like a grown-up. So I've been taking the day shift and he's been spending the night. It pretty much sucks all the way around.
Today was especially sucky. Will's been pretty agreeable and easy going. (He's been too sick to be anything else) He's been super-polite to his nurses- thanking them for everything and just being cute in general. And that was what did me in this afternoon.
They put in an IV for his antibiotics yesterday. It took them two tries, but they finally got it in. However, by this afternoon it had clotted and was useless, so they had to try to put in a new one. The nurse tried once, and the vein blew. Second try, same results. The whole time, I'm holding him, talking to him while he's strapped down on a table, screaming. I can handle the screaming. What reduced me to a bawling mass of snot and tears was when he cried, "All done. Thank you. All done. Want to go home. Thank you, Mommy."
We gave it one last shot after he'd had a chance to calm down (and a popsicle), but it was no go. His veins just wouldn't cooperate. So after enduring three IV attempts, he had to get ANOTHER shot of Rocephin. And he gets one more tomorrow. That makes a grand total of NINE needle sticks in five days.
But it's finally working. He's getting better. He sounds better, not great, but better. And his fever is gone. As long as it stays gone tonight, he'll get one more shot tomorrow morning and then they'll send him home. We're sooooooo ready to be done with the hospital. It's so boring, and time just drags interminably. Not to mention trying to keep Will somewhat entertained when he feels good enough to play. So keep all your fingers and toes crossed that he stays fever-free tonight and we're all home tomorrow, and we don't see the inside of the hospital again this year. I mean, we love St. Mary's, and we love those nurses, but I would be 100% okay with never setting foot in there again.

Snowmageddon '11

2011-01-13T19:16:00.003-05:00

We are snowbound, iced in, totally stuck. It is, quite literally, Snowmageddon. I have seen a fair amount of snow and ice in Georgia in my lifetime, but nothing in my 32 years like this. We knew it was coming, but nothing could have prepared us for how long it would stay. We are coming up on day FIVE of being stuck at home. That is absurd and unheard of. So here's how it all went down...
The Snowpocalypse was supposed to start Sunday night. The news was calling for all kinds of mass power outages. Having been through that two years ago, I was in no hurry to suffer through a cold, dark house with three bored kids again in this lifetime. So we decided to relocate to Matt's mom's house. Her neighborhood has buried power lines, and if that didn't keep the lights on, she had a fireplace so we could at least stay (sort of) warm. But since we had no idea how long we'd be there or how cold we might get, packing everything we might need was a guessing game at best. That meant I had to pack up anything we might possibly need for any conceivable situation. By the time I was done, it took us not one, not two, but THREE trips to get everything and everybody (including the pets) over to Pat's house.
And let me tell you a bit about Pat's house. It's beautiful. It has lovely, expensive things. It looks like something straight out of a Pottery Barn catalogue. Or at least, it did until my brood descended upon it. Then it looked like a catalogue shoot gone horribly, horribly wrong. There were toys and junk strewn from one end of that house to the other. And here's the kicker- the power stayed on. It stayed on at her house, my house, everywhere. So all that packing and worrying was for absolutely nothing.
Well, maybe not nothing. It was, at least, a change of scenery. The kids got to play with different toys, and it was kind of a novelty for them. I called it our "snowcation." But after three days, the novelty had worn off and everyone was ready to get home. Luckily, the inches of ice on the road had thawed enough that we could slowly, but safely drive home. Well, Matt could. No way in hell was I driving my babies home on that ice rink.
So we made it home yesterday, and that was nice for about five seconds. Then the mantel of cabin fever that had been building up since Sunday settled over us once again. Because while we could get home, the roads were in no shape to be driving unless you had to. So we were still stuck inside. And I was slowly going bat-shit crazy. Truly, it's starting to resemble The Shining around here. I keep expecting to see Scatman Crothers show up at any moment. The kids are bored and whiny and demanding, and Hays is sick as a dog!
That little guy started running a fever Tuesday, and we were finally able to get him to the doctor this morning. (But my daddy had to drive us because the roads were still too icy for my liking) He has a double ear infection- his third this month. So after a nasty, painful Rocephin shot and a prescription for Zithromax, they're referring us to an ENT to get tubes in his ears and his adenoids removed. Yay, the fun is never-ending!!
And now school's been canceled again tomorrow. And Monday is a holiday. And if I don't get out of this house soon (by myself), somebody better hide all the axes.

Things Are Coming Along....

2011-01-06T10:23:00.003-05:00

So I told y'all I got an elliptical and it was killing me. That was a week ago, so here's my update. It's still killing me. BUT, I've stuck with it, increased my time, and- drumroll please- lost four pounds!!!! That's right, one week in, and I'm a fifth of the way to my goal. (At least, I think it's a fifth, I'm really bad at math.)

It's not just the elliptical, I'm also doing all that other crap like watching what I'm eating, portion control, cutting back on the vino. And it's working- at least according to the scale. And the weirdest part is that I look forward to exercising each day. Not because it's fun. Hell no, it's not fun. I feel like I'm dying. My legs feel like they might fall off and I'm sweating like a whore in church. Actually, probably more, LOTS more. But then, I'm done, and I've burned a bunch of calories and done something really good for myself, and it makes me feel freakishly good.

Even minus the four pounds, I'm still way more of a fatass than I'd like to be. I mean, I'm not circus fat or anything, but back in the day I was really little and cute. Now I'm more short and squat, kind of like a fireplug. But even though I still look in the mirror and sigh, it's a hopeful sigh. Because while I'm not there yet, I'm on the road. I'm getting there, and that feels much better than looking in the mirror, sighing, and eating ice cream! It's also motivating me to work on other things, like turning the twins into humans.

Let's face it, if you read this blog, you know they're pretty much wild animals. Part of it is just who they are, but part of it is me being lazy. Imagine if you had two chimpanzees loose in your house all day. You'd try to train them and housebreak them, right? But keep in mind that the whole time you're trying to train them, they're mashing bananas into their fur, throwing poop at you, and swinging from your chandelier, all while pointing and grinning their big chimp grins at you. It would get exhausting, right? And you would want to park their monkey butts in front of the TV just to get a moment's peace, right? Well, yeah, me too. But at some point, you've got to get those monkeys trained before they grow bigger than you and rip your arms off and beat you to death with them.

So that's what I'm trying to do with my chimps, I mean, twins. Less TV, more attention to manners, being persistent when it comes to making them listen and follow directions, more consistent with enforcing rules and consequences. It's exhausting. But I've been pleasantly surprised at their response. The better I am, the better they are. I took them to the library for story time yesterday, and it wasn't even awful! I'm going to socialize those cute little primates if it kills me!!!

I know we're only a week in, but I'm telling you folks, I'm going to own 2011. (Maybe? I hope??) But I've publicly stated it, so now I have to stick with it or face the shame and humiliation of failing in front of my entire internet community. Here's to hot, skinny mamas and well behaved kids!!!!

Happy New Year!!!!!

2010-12-31T21:52:00.002-05:00

I hate New Years. Especially this New Year. I hate New Years because it's all about organization and self-improvement. Isn't it? Everywhere you look, every magazine cover "Lose 20 lbs. by Valentine's Day!!" "This Is the Year to De-Clutter!!"

Normally I manage to resist the pressure- I proudly stay fat and slovenly. But this year I feel the need for some self-improvement and de-cluttering.....But lest you think I bought in to all the New Year's propaganda, these are not, in any way, New Year's Resolutions. I've been feeling the need to shape up and clear out for a while. And, dear god, did I start a big ol' ball rollin' with that one.

I decided a while back that I wanted an elliptical. I just wanted a little small, cheap, unobtrusive one. But Matt was appalled. This was one venture that he was not going to let me cheap out on. (An aside here- I still think we could have gotten a perfectly good one for half the price on Craigslist, but was outvoted by the masses due to lack of warranty. Psssssh, warranty, schmarranty...) So he spent a month or so diligently researching ellipticals, and when winner went on sale for New Years, we used our Christmas money (thanks lovely family!!) to buy it. We were most grateful to The Old Man for being our delivery man, and now I have a HUGE behemoth of an exercise machine in my playroom, and it hurts. Seriously, today was day one, and it kicked my ass!!!!

The upside is that it forced a major playroom overhaul. I am talking de-cluttering on an epic, furniture-moving, multiple trashbag/donation box-filling, get this crap outta' here, scale. A new toy storage unit made (most) of the baskets that held toys unnecessary. Old toys were tossed or donated, same for books, home decor stuff, everything under the sun. I took a big load to Goodwill today and I have another one to take. And while my house is still torn apart, and filled with boxes from Christmas, it is slightly more organized.

And here's the really funny part- I'll be having family and friends over for lunch tomorrow. Yup. I'm nuts. But my attitude is, I'll have it (the parts you can see!) fairly clean, and everyone that's coming over has already pretty much seen us at our worst, so they'll probably forgive a little disaster. Hell, they knew disaster was inevitable if they were coming over here! And I do this every year. It's the one holiday that I host despite my tiny house and chaos, and I love doing it. I love cooking all the old soul food, and my grandmother's banana pudding, and having almost all the people I love gathered in our home. So mess be damned, the collards are done, and the black-eyed peas are on!

I wish all of you out there in my little cyber-community, those of you who are kind enough to care about my life, or even if you just find it funny enough to read, a happy and blessed 2011. (Although you may just not be able to look away from the hot mess that is our household. That's okay) But all of you, whomever you are, wherever you are, may this be your best year yet, I hope this is the year your dreams come true, I hope it's your happiest year so far!

What a Holly, Jolly Christmas!!!

2010-12-25T19:09:00.006-05:00

I think Santa's getting ready......

One of my fancy snowflake ornaments that I made this year.

Boy toys galore!!

The twins' haul- not bad, not bad at all.

All is calm, all is bright

Just what I wanted!!!!

Will's feeding his new baby a bottle after a ride in the doll stroller!

Merry Christmas, everybody!!!! I'm sitting here watching it SNOW- in Georgia, ON CHRISTMAS!!!!! That is totally unheard of- hasn't happened in a hundred years. And yet, big fat snowflakes are falling outside the window, capping off what may have been a perfect Christmas. The boys got a pile of cool stuff from Santa and great stuff from the assorted grandparents/aunts/uncles, so they were happy as pigs in mud all day.
Matt got some cool stuff. He'd already gotten his big surprise from me a couple of weeks ago when I took him to see Cirque Du Soliel, so he got smaller stuff today, but it was pretty great stuff. I, on the other hand, got FAAAABULOUS stuff. Seriously, I was the Christmas queen this year. Tickets to go see West Side Story, my favorite musical of all time, from my FIL, a huge, expensive, gorgeous, fancy-girl pocketbook from my MIL, a sparkly ring from Matt, and my parents I got this awesome painting of a cow that I've been coveting. It's like, the sweetest cow face you've ever seen. So me, the cheapest girl in the world, got theatre tickets, art, jewelry, and a designer purse! Damn, I feel fancy, kind of like Cinderella- thanks Fairy God-parents!!!! (Hopefully it won't all turn into pumpkins at midnight!)

And as if the fanciness wasn't enough, my sister gave me and my mom and my youngest sister possibly the Best. Gift. Ever.- a girl's weekend at a cabin in the mountains! She's already booked it!! How cool is that? A whole weekend's break from the nuthouse, hanging out with my very best girls? My sister rocks.

And now it's snowing. Seriously- could it get any better? I hope all of you had an amazing Christmas. I hope you felt as lucky and blessed as we did. And I hope that your kids got quieter toys than ours did. My mother bought them little plastic recorders- they're louder than a whistle. Thanks, mom......

PS. Hays celebrated Christmas with us, even though he's woefully underrepresented in the picture department. Not only did he get lots of toys, he got a fever as well : ( So he was slightly pitiful all day- but overall, it was a pretty darn good sick day!

2010-12-19T09:02:00.003-05:00

Better late than never! Merry Christmas everybody!

It's the Most Exhausting Time of the Year

2010-12-16T07:32:00.003-05:00

Ah, Christmas, a time filled with joy. It's wonderful and nostalgic for adults, magical for children, and exhausting for mommies! I didn't realize until I had a family of my own how much goes into making Christmas happen. When you're a child you just take it for granted that sparkly ornaments and lights wink from every corner, piles of presents pop up overnight, and elves magically appear in funny spots all over the house. But have a kid and all of a sudden you realize that you have become the magical elf that makes everything merry and bright!

The other night as I was wrapping presents, I asked Matt, "When Christmas comes around and you don't have to do anything but show up, does it make you glad you're married?" He was like, "Uh, yeah, sure, I guess." He'd probably never given it much thought, but he should! I'd love to hire a wife for the Christmas season. Imagine it, having someone to do all the shopping, decorating, wrapping, cooking. Someone to buy the perfect teacher gift, address a million Christmas cards, bake for the coworkers, bus drivers, neighbors, etc. Heck, I'd be happy if I could just have someone that would remember to move the elf on the shelf to a clever new hiding spot each night!

But since no one has come up with a rent-a-wife operation (well, they probably have, but I couldn't afford to hire one anyway), it's all on me. And though I complain about it sometimes, I wouldn't have it any other way. Because even though it's exhausting, it's so worth it. Seeing my kids' faces on Christmas morning makes it all worthwhile- even though all the credit for that goes to a jolly fat guy. I'll stand back and smile knowing that I am Mommy, and I make magic happen. Then I'll go take a nap.

After Midnight....

2010-12-12T23:59:00.004-05:00

It's midnight on Sunday night and I should be snuggled up in my cozy bed sleeping soundly. Why am I in the drafty playroom blogging instead? Because Hays and Matt are out on a little ER adventure, and I'm anxiously awaiting their return, that's why.

Hays was fine this morning- eating, playing, driving me crazy- the usual. This afternoon I went to run some errands with my mom and got a call from Matt saying that Hays had thrown up twice. We figured he had a little virus, but later in the afternoon, he seemed fine. He didn't throw up any more and ate a huge dinner. We thought it was weird and kept musing aloud, "I wonder what made him throw up?" But he went to sleep with no problems, so we kind of shrugged it off.

Fast forward to 11:30 pm. Matt and I were picking up the playroom, getting ready to go to bed. Matt found a battery operated candle lying on the floor- minus the battery. A quick search around the floor turned up the casing to the battery, but no battery. We searched every nook and cranny, but couldn't find it anywhere. With a growing sense of dread, I called the poison control center to let them know that our two year old possibly swallowed a button battery, and to see what steps we should take. They recommended an immediate x-ray. Apparently, that particular type of battery can separate easily- particularly if it's sitting in a child's stomach, and the leaking battery acid can burn a hole in the child's stomach.

We really hated the idea of waking up our soundly sleeping baby and taking him out in the frigid cold, but we hated the idea of battery acid burning holes in his internal organs more. So I woke the little guy up as gently as possible. Gave him some milk, bundled him into his coat, and sent him and his daddy off into the dark, cold night with Stinky monkey, cozy blankie, and his chocolate milk. So now I'm just waiting (and blogging) to hear the results of the x-ray. Chances are, the battery is somewhere in a hidden corner of the house, and this was a pointless middle-of-the-night excursion, but what can you do?

**UPDATE**
According to the x-ray, Hays did not, in fact, swallow a battery. So we totally woke our kid up and drug him out in the middle of the freezing cold night for nothing. Yay. But such is life. We couldn't take the chance. But the question remains, where the hell is that battery?????

**UPDATE- Part Deux**
So after my last update, they tested Hays for strep, RSV and the flu. Turns out, he has strep. Poor baby. The silver lining on that little cloud is that we caught it early, so he didn't have to sicker and sicker for the next day or two. He's on antibiotics now, so he should be right as rain in a day or two. Of course, he'll miss the last day of preschool tomorrow (picture me sobbing uncontrollably), but he'll feel better. Now we're just crossing our fingers and toes that no one else gets strep, because that's some nasty funk.

Adios, Paci

2010-12-03T13:12:00.004-05:00

Let me start by saying that I am aware that almost three years old is too old to still have a pacifier. I know it, and if you'd told me that I would allow a child of mine to still have a paci at almost three years old, I would have called you a dirty, rotten liar. But that was before I had twins. I confess, we did not break Will of the paci habit by two as I swore I would. So what, sue me. Part of it was laziness- it was so much easier to put him to bed when he had a paci, it soothed him when he was sick, and quite frankly, there were days when shoving that paci in his whining mouth was the only thing that kept him alive at 5:00.

Plus, I had a bit of an emotional attachment to Will's pacifier. I know that sounds odd, but back in the dark days of his early infancy, there wasn't a lot that could bring comfort to Will, but that baby loved his pacifier. It was the one thing that never failed to soothe him. And then we discovered Wubanubs, the pacifier with a Beanie Baby-like stuffed animal attached to the end of it. We bought a red dog we named Clifford for Will, and it became his constant companion. I couldn't be at the hospital with Will all the time, but Clifford could. And while I'm not suggesting that a stuffed animal pacifier is a suitable stand-in for a mother, it did give me some measure of comfort to know that he had his Clifford. He always had something that made him feel safe, secure and soothed. I loved Clifford about as much as Will did, and when the paci part fell off, I kept Clifford for sentimental reasons. (Though once he didn't have the paci part, Will had little interest in it.)

And while my other kids had lovies, Will only had his pacifier. Mason was a paci baby, but he also had his beloved stuffed dog, Buddy. So when it was time to take his paci, I didn't feel too bad because he still had Buddy to sleep with. And Hays was never really into his pacifier, but I can't imagine putting him to bed without Stinky Monkey. But Will never really developed a strong attachment to a particular animal or blanket, so all he had at bedtime was his paci. It seemed sort of cruel to take it away. But cruel or not, damned if I was going to be one of those moms that lets her five year old walk around with a paci. (And if you are one of those moms, I'm sorry. I hate to judge you, but honey, it's time to lose the binky)

So Matt and I made a plan. We were down to one pacifier, and we were already limiting it to naps and bedtime (or major illness). We agreed that when that paci got torn up or lost, we were done. We were not buying any more under any circumstances. About two weeks ago, we noticed that he'd bitten a small hole in it. It was in no danger of coming apart and choking him to death at that point, so we let him keep it. But we knew the end was near. The end arrived yesterday.

He got up from what was supposed to be naptime, but which was actually jump on the bed and play time, with a paci mangled beyond redemption. I told him, "Uh oh, Paci is broken. We have to throw it away." He gave it a kiss and hug, told it bye-bye and threw it away. He didn't seem at all distressed, but I wondered what bedtime would bring. I was able to conveniently push that off on Matt because I had to take Mason to a thing at his school. I expected to hear tales of woe, great wailing and gnashing of teeth. But actually, Will did okay. There was a little bit of crying, but not much, and he fell asleep fairly quickly. He did wake up early this morning and cry a little bit, but he went back to sleep. And while I figured naptime today would be a bust, he only asked for his pacifier once, and fell asleep within 15 minutes.

So we are officially a pacifier-free zone. I'm proud of him. A little wistful to see one more vestige of baby-hood cast off, but proud nonetheless. And very, very grateful that it has gone much more smoothly than I anticipated. My baby's growing up.....

Dog Days

2010-12-02T14:39:00.005-05:00

Tess in her heyday as our beloved dog child (excuse the freaky, glowing eyes)

Tess in her current pitiful, second class citizen state. Note the huge, mangled hot spot on her flank.

Tess. Sigh........ Tess is our dog. Matt and I got her almost a decade ago, not long after we made the move to Athens. We were young, in love, and living in sin- obviously it was time to adopt a dog child. There was no question about it, we were going for a shelter dog, preferably a large breed since I hate little yappy dogs. Much to our delight, we found an 8 month old lab mix that a shelter was giving away free because the dog had asthma. Never one to shy away from a good deal (free asthmatic dog? Awesome!) we adopted her despite the fact that she was wheezing, painfully skittish, flea-ridden and had the worst teeth imaginable. She didn't seem like such a bargain when we got her home and took her to the vet- his exact words "Take her back where you got her. This dog's about to die." She'd apparently had pneumonia over and over, and her lungs were ravaged. But despite the vet's dire predictions, she rallied after a course of steroids and antibiotics, and became one of the most loving, loyal dogs we could have ever asked for.

And we adored her. She had baskets of toys, we never went anywhere without her, hell, she even had a Snow White Halloween costume. She was our beloved dog child. Then, we had our first human child. Things kind of went downhill for Tess after that. I mean, we still loved her, but in our sleep-deprived haze, we often forgot to feed her, make sure she had clean water, and forget walks or trips to the dog park. As Mason got older and slept more, things improved for Tess. She never returned to her glory days as top dog, but at least she wasn't starving and thirsty.

Cue the twins arrival. Oh lord, if she thought things were bad when Mason came along, it's a wonder she didn't give up when the twins got here. If I had been her, I would have packed my chew toys in a hobo bindle and set out for greener pastures. (Who are we kidding, by that point, she didn't have chew toys anymore!) Now, not only was regular feeding out the window, our house was so full of people and stuff that she was frequently yelled at for being underfoot. Poor dog. Things have improved slightly. I remember to feed her most days, and she's learned to stay out of the way. But now she has to suffer the indignities the twins heap on her, including, (but not limited to) using her as a step stool, attempting to ride her, and poking her in the eye while saying "dog's eye?"

I think that the stress is getting to her. Over the past year or so, she's started to develop terrible hot spots and she's chewing herself bald and bloody. Today she had the mother of all hot spots, seriously, her flank looked like it had been mauled by a bear. I finally gave up and took her to the vet. He claimed it was a flea allergy, but I'm not convinced. Either way, I shelled out $150 to get her partially shaved, the hotspots treated, antibiotics and steroids and different flea medication. I hope it works, but really I think she just needs a vacation. A quiet place where no one will step on her or smear her with jelly. A house free of shrieking and screaming and fighting. So when I give up and run away to Tahiti, I'm taking Tess with me.

Just Another Manic Monday

2010-11-30T12:58:00.002-05:00

This is the text I sent to Matt yesterday around 5:30:

I am in hell. No nap, Hays peed on the tree, Will painted himself with poop, and they've been whining and fighting all afternoon. Come home!!!!

The day got off to a promising start. Hays told me he needed to "teetee potty" and, sure enough, he did. As a reward for being such a big boy, I let him wear big boy underwear instead of a diaper. I was monitoring him closely and taking him to the bathroom every 30 minutes to avoid any accidents. Just as I was marveling at how well he was doing, and patting myself on the back for having such success with potty training, I hear "uh-oh." I look over to find Hays standing next to the Christmas tree, watering it in a most unconventional fashion. Well, to be fair, he was really watering the floor, the giant tree cage, and the tree skirt, though I think he managed to sprinkle a branch or two. So much for the potty training success.

As you can imagine, I was relieved to put them down for a nap an hour or so later. I breathed a sigh of relief as I closed their door and reveled in the anticipation of an hour or two of peace. Yeah right. Apparently they had already reached a decision that they were not napping, and no amount of stern admonishments or spankings would convince them to do otherwise. So I decided that I'd show those two punks who was boss. I might not be able to force them to sleep, but I can by god keep 'em in their room. Well, Will decided he'd show me what he thought of that plan by using poop as a means for creative expression. It was no where near as bad as the epic poop incident that happened several months ago. (If you feel the need to revisit that particular adventure, here's the link http://theamazingtwinadventure.blogspot.com/2010/02/theres-story-thats-been-told-for-years.html) but it wasn't good either. He was completely covered, so it was obviously bath time for the poop monster.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of screaming, fighting, running, biting and a massive mountain of laundry to fold and put away. At one point my mom stopped by to give the kids a book she'd bought for them, and all I could do was sit and fold clothes while she dealt with the hellions for a bit. She told my sister I looked like I was catatonic. I wasn't really, I was just trying to have an out of body experience in the hopes that I could block out all the crazy surrounding me, and let my mind sunbathe on a beautiful beach somewhere. Unfortunately, it didn't work. And my mom could only take 30 minutes or so of being in the frenzied monkey cage that I call home, so she abandoned me. That's when the SOS text was sent to Matt.

He eventually came home (after forwarding my desperate pleas to his boss so they could laugh at my pain. Jerks.) I drank a glass (or two) of wine, got the kids to bed, and fell on the couch in an exhausted stupor. One more day down. Only 16 years to go......

Have a Holly, Jolly Thanksmas

2010-11-27T12:42:00.006-05:00

Mason in front of this year's winner.

Will examined the branches to make sure the tree was fresh....

While Hays decided to hide in the tree.

Will had no problem sitting on Santa's lap. Hays, however, was a different story...

Mason liked Santa. But poor Santa looks quite weary. Was it Mason's list? The post-traumatic stress of the twins? We'll never know, but I think Santa could use a drink.

Hays loves animals- especially donkeys

Hays was laughing with delight at the donkeys

I know this is blurry, but it was too funny not to post. Will was looking at the chickens, and every time they would shake their feathers, he would laugh and slap his knees like it was the most hysterical thing he'd ever seen!

Hays likes chickens! (But not as much as Will!)

Will decided to help Daddy with the lights

The tree in all of its finery!

We're still decking the halls, but I can definitively say that Thanksmas was a success. The weather didn't really cooperate with us, but we refused to let rain, wind, falling temperatures, and a whole lot of mud get in the way of our Christmas tree mission. We didn't make it to the tree farm until mid-afternoon, so we spent the morning assembling the giant tree cage, pulling out boxes of decorations, and doing the fancy garland around the front door.

Once we got the tree (we picked the first one we saw!), the kids saw Santa- some enjoyed that more than others- and they checked out all the animals at the petting zoo. Hays was particularly taken with the donkeys, while Will thought the chickens were the funniest darn things he'd ever seen. We got the tree home, unloaded, and upright in the giant tree cage with remarkable ease. We were actually surprised at how well everything was going- until we remembered that we had no lights to hang on the tree, because we threw out all of our old, half-burned out strands last year. Sigh. I knew it was too good to be true. So Matt had to make a light quest to Walmart while I whipped up a pot of butternut squash soup for my decorating crew that would be arriving shortly.

We had a lovely dinner with my parents and Matt's mom, then after we got the twins safely tucked away in bed, we decorated the tree. Decorated may, actually, be an understatement. This thing is dripping with ornaments- almost to the point that you can't tell there's a tree under it. But it's sparkly and pretty! Now I just have to finish all the other stuff and we'll be ready for the holidays!

Happy Thanksgiving and Stuff!

2010-11-25T20:42:00.002-05:00

Over a week since I posted- yikes! (but lord knows, I've done worse). Everyone has stayed fairly healthy, so that's the good news. We got hit by a small stomach bug, but it was a 24 hour thing and seemed to get less severe with each victim. By the time I got it, it was just a general feeling of queasiness. Will has been 100% healthy all week long, and he's back to his usual shenanigans. While I'm grateful for good health, I wasn't so glad to see the return of his hijinks. I'd almost gotten used to him being calmer and more compliant over his month of illness, so I was kind of unprepared for him to come raring back, into everything he can get his hands on.

The craziness was magnified by the fact that Mason had the whole week off of school. I tell you what, three boys are LOUD. And my three boys are incredibly loud. There were days where I thought about hiding out in the bathroom with the door locked and a bottle of wine!! But I had to resist that temptation, because there were errands to run in preparation for Thanksgiving. I had the usual grocery store, Target, Walmart things to do, but I also had to take all three boys to get a haircut by myself. (We did not go to the beauty school- I've learned my lesson) Our regular hairdresser was closed the day before Thanksgiving so I took them to some chain store. Whereupon I waited 20 minutes, threatening their lives the entire time to keep them in chairs and out of the displays of hair products. Then I attempted to wrangle the twins during Mason's cut, keep Will in the chair for his, and bodily restrain a crying, screaming Hays for his. That was an adventure that I have no desire to repeat at any point during the rest of my life.

And today was my favorite of all days, Thanksgiving. I, for the first time ever, did the turkey. I've been reading recipes and techniques for a month. I'd even done a practice run on a turkey breast. But no matter how well-prepared you are, it can still be kind of nerve-wracking to roast the bird for the feast for the first time. There are so many things that can go wrong- overcooking it and winding up with a dry, tasteless turkey, or worse, undercooking it and everyone winds up in the emergency room with food poisoning! Luckily for all of us, I did neither. It turned out beautifully. In fact, everything did. It was a smaller crowd for us this year. My grandmother's been in and out of the hospital for several months and just wasn't up to making the trip out here. And honestly, we weren't up to carting the kids down to Macon. So my aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents had Thanksgiving there, and we stayed here with my parents and sisters. We missed the big crowd, but it was kind of nice to have a really laid-back holiday as well.

So now we're gearing up for Thanksmas. Mason's already got his tree in his room up and decorated, and we'll be getting ours tomorrow (as long as the weather cooperates). Matt and I will be busting out the giant tree cage and all our holiday finery. The twins were really taken with Mason's tree, so I hope the tree cage will keep them out of ours. They wanted to touch all the ornaments, and Will kept kissing it and saying, "High five?" I've got a lot of ornaments that might not survive an exuberant high five, so I'm really counting on the tree cage!!

You Get What You Pay For

2010-11-17T11:57:00.004-05:00

I've been in desperate need of a haircut for a while. My hair was seriously long- most of the way down my back. And when I had time to blow dry and flat iron it, I absolutely loved it. Really, I felt like Rapunzel. But, let's be honest, how often does that actually happen? Once a week, or if I'm feeling really fancy, twice. But on all those other days, it looked like a scraggly mess, so a haircut was in order.
Yesterday the twins finally went back to school after two weeks. Those three blissful hours were going to be the last ones I had to myself until the week after Thanksgiving, so I was bound and determined to get that mop cut. The problem was that payday isn't until Friday, and we've done the majority of the kids' Christmas shopping over the past week, so money was a bit on the tight side. I decided to go the frugal route and get my hair cut at the beauty school. It's only $5, and I've had it cut there before and the girl did a really good job. I'm thinking she was an A student, or a lot more experienced, because yesterday's cut didn't go so well.
I asked the girl to trim about three inches off, leaving it well below my shoulders (I told you, it was really long) and cut some long, loose layers in it. She slooooooowly got started, trimming a tiny section at a time. I didn't mind too much, after all, I wanted her to take her time and do a good job. But I'm pretty sure a snail could cut hair faster. Then she got to work on the sides. After 45 minutes of cutting she says, "Okay, how does it look?" Ummmmmmm, not so good since the right side is a good inch and a half shorter than the left. So she tries to even it up, then tries some more, then tries a little more. At this point I'm starting to get quite worried about the amount of hair she's cut off. We're already way past three inches, and I'm afraid if she keeps trying to make it even, I'm going to wind up with a pixie cut! Then she says, "I'm really sorry- this is not my area of expertise." Wow, so not what you want to hear from the girl that has scissors in your hair. And honestly, if giving the most basic of haircuts isn't your area of expertise, what the hell is???
So I finally told her, "It's okay honey, let's quit while we're ahead." By then, I had resigned myself to paying a professional to fix this mess, but the girl said, "I can get my instructor to help me." I agreed, and the instructor came over to help guide her through this disaster of a haircut. The instructor gave up on coaching this hapless hairdresser within a few minutes and decided, much to my relief, to finish it herself. With obvious, palpable relief, the girl handed over her scissors, and after one hour, six inches and an instructor, my hair was finally even. Then, that crazy girl asked the instructor, "Now how do I go about putting layers in her hair?" I practically leaped from the chair exclaiming, "Oh no, never mind the layers! Really, it's fine. Let's just leave it one length!" Layers, dear God, I would have been bald!
So I got my haircut. It's (significantly) shorter than I wanted it, but I can still put it in a ponytail, and that's all that really matters. But I have learned a VERY valuable lesson. There are many ways to save money, but a $5 haircut shouldn't be one of them!

Lucky

2010-11-14T07:48:00.004-05:00

I have seen a light at the end of the tunnel of illness, and I'm pretty sure it's not a train!!! Everyone's feeling better, Will's coughing has subsided and I think we might be getting well (at least until they bring home some other bug from preschool.) And since you guys have been so incredibly patient with my bitching and moaning, I'm going to take a day to post gratitude instead of attitude.

Yesterday I had a day where I felt so very lucky at so many different times during the day. Lucky to the point that I had to offer a quick prayer of gratitude to God. The first was at the grocery store. I was behind a family with three young children, who were carefully adding up every penny to try to stay within a strict, and very small budget. At the end of their tally, they had to tell their kids to put some things back, and my heart went out to them. I know it must have been tough to tell their kids that there were things they couldn't buy for them. Now, we certainly don't buy our kids everything their hearts desire, but when I made my grocery list this morning, I didn't have consider every dime. I could just make a list of the things we wanted and go get them without worrying if I could pay for them. This hasn't always been the case, and may not always be the case. But yesterday morning, it was, and for that, I was very grateful.
Thank you, God, for giving us the means to provide for our family. Thank you for helping us keep them fed, clothed, healthy and happy.

Later on, my best friend came for a visit. We met up with my mom and Paige and had such a fun afternoon together. We had lunch and did some shopping, talking, and lots of laughing. It was such a fun day spent in the company of women that I love so dearly. And it was much needed, since we've all been dealing with some hard times lately. It was so nice to put aside illness, worry, sadness, and just have fun together. Thank you, God, for blessing me with amazing friends and family. Thank you for the strong, wonderful women that surround me and inspire me.

Then I came home to sweet, loving, funny children, and a kind, supportive, wonderful husband that looked after them all day so I could go and play. Not all men would be willing to do that (though they all should), and I'm grateful to have one of the ones that will. And even though my kids are crazier than drunk puppies, they are so cute and funny and I love them so very much. Thank you, God, for my family. They make life worth living, and I am very glad that they are mine.

My mother and sister joke that whenever their own lives get hard, they just think, "Well, it could be worse. At least I'm not Cameron." They're joking (sort of), but I get it. My day to day life isn't always easy, and it's certainly not calm. But it is full and rich and very, very blessed. And while there are certainly days that I would run away to Tahiti in a heartbeat, I'd always come back (after a few peaceful days in the sun, and many tropical cocktails). I am grateful for this crazy life, and I will leave you with the words of my cell phone's ringtone- Lucky I'm in love with my best friend, lucky to have been where I have been, lucky to be coming home again.

Things Are (Hopefully) Looking Up

2010-11-11T13:24:00.003-05:00

I'm going to say, with VERY cautious optimism, that things are getting better. We had the last of the shots from hell today, and Will did amazingly well. I mean, he cried, obviously- you would cry too if someone was shooting liquid flames into your leg. But he only cried for a minute, and he didn't freak out the minute we walked in the door of the doctor's office (though he did whimper a little). And the shots have done their job and cleared up his nasty ear infection.

He's still coughing up a lung on a several-times-daily basis, so our pediatrician sent him to have a chest x-ray just to rule out lower-lung pneumonia. That meant another fun-filled trip to St. Mary's, but thankfully the x-ray showed no signs of pneumonia. He's just still got a ton of congestion that's making him cough. The good thing is that he doesn't have to take any more antibiotics. The bad part is that we're doing every single thing we can possibly do, and we just have to wait it out.

Will was pretty wiped out after this morning's adventures in medicine, but not too wiped out to go to Walmart to get a new Elmo movie. I promised him I'd buy him a new one since he's been such a tough, brave boy through those nasty shots. In fact, he's been so tough and so brave that I bought him two new Elmo movies! I'm hoping that he'll keep on improving steadily and we can put this crappy month of sickness behind us. And then everyone has to stay well for a while. Seriously- has to- Mommy can't take any more!!!

Bringing Out the Big Guns

2010-11-09T13:20:00.003-05:00

Did you check in hoping to hear good news? Sorry, haven't got any. We found out that the antibiotics we've been forcing down Will twice a day have been about as effective as gumdrops. They haven't touched his nasty ear infection, and the congestion has started to settle in his chest, hence the raging fever. In a last-ditch effort to keep us out of the hospital, the doctor gave him a shot of Rocephin, which is a heavy duty antibiotic, and he'll have to go back for two more shots over the next two days. And these aren't just little nothing injections. These are thick solutions given with a giant needle that burn like the flames of hell going in. It's so bad that he can't even walk for a while afterwards because his leg hurts so bad. And we get to do it two more times!!
Holding that poor screaming baby down on the exam table is just about more than I can bear. And it's made worse by the fact that he cried "Ow, ow, ow" all the way out of the doctors office. Is your heart breaking? Well this will just send it right on over the edge- all this happened after my poor, sweet baby looked at me and asked in this hopeful little voice, "Yummy medicine?" Oh yeah, it practically killed me. Matt's taking him for tomorrow's shot because I just can't bear to do it three days in a row.
He came home from the doctor and fell asleep on the couch almost immediately. He slept through Hays marching through the living room yelling and banging on a tupperware container with a turkey baster. He only woke up because he was wracked by a horrible coughing fit. At which point I got to subject him to a hose nose and a giant dose of disgusting steroids! And this is what we'll be doing, over and over for the next three days in a desperate attempt to avoid the hospital.
It seems like it's never ending. And the worst part is, if he gets sick again, I have to take them out of preschool!!! Not preschool!! Please don't take away my blissful six hours of freedom a week!!! Of course, he's only been twice in three weeks because he's incessantly sick. And quite frankly, if keeping him out of school means we never have to go through the Rocephin torture again, I'll freakin' home school him if I have to. I can't stand to watch my sweetie hurt anymore. He has been through too much in his short little life already, and I just need him to get well and stay well.

You Can't Fire Me, I Quit

2010-11-08T19:44:00.005-05:00

Misery at its finest

Okay, I give up, I can't take it anymore. Somebody is going to have to come into this cootie cave and take care of these sick-o children because I have had all I can take. I have cleaned up puke at least once a day for over a week now. Today, I had the fun of cleaning up puke puddles THREE TIMES!!!! I'm serenaded by a symphony of coughing from sunup to sundown, and I can't take it anymore. My poor Will is sick as a dog and just can't seem to get better. He's been coughing for two weeks straight, and it's gotten so bad that it leads to the aforementioned vomiting at least once a day. And as if that wasn't enough fun, he's had a fever ranging between 101* and 103* since Friday. Antibiotics aren't doing anything but giving him killer diarrhea, and I don't know what to do anymore. He's going back to the doctor tomorrow morning, which will officially make 6 trips in two and a half weeks. Yay...........

Hays has been sick, too. But in light of Will's extravaganza of illness, Haysie's snot and fever barely register. Oh, and just for the record, I've managed to catch two colds in two weeks as well. So on top of dealing with sick, whiny kids, cleaning up after puke-fest, and being woken up seven times in seven hours, I've gotten to do it all while feeling like crap! Oh, and let's not forget my stupid dog, who, due to some sort of allergy, skin condition, or just general stress from living in this hell-hole, has been chewing herself bald and bloody. And when she's not chewing, she's frantically rubbing her dirty self against my living room chair while whining pitifully. I swear to God, it seems like it's never going to end. And we're only at the beginning of cold season!

My mom asked me tonight if there was anything she could do to help. I told her I needed:

A. a nanny

B. a trip to Tahiti

C. Someone to take these sick pitiful kids off my hands

And that worthless girl could not provide any of the above! So come on, beloved readers, surely one of you is incredibly rich and wants to provide me with household help or a fabulous vacation, right? Anybody?????

Damn you, Halls, you've decked Thanksgiving!!!!

2010-11-07T12:09:00.005-05:00

This weekend I have seen no less than six Facebook posts about people putting up their Christmas trees. Christmas trees? What???? Did I miss something? Isn't it only the first weekend of November? I mean, seriously, I know Christmas comes earlier every year, but the first weekend in November????????? Call me Scrooge, but I am not a fan.

It's not that I don't love Christmas- I do. It is, as the song says, the most wonderful time of the year. It's absolutely magical and joyful, not to mention, sparkly. And since I'm drawn to shiny things like a raccoon, Christmas decorations are right up my glitter-strewn ally. I get just as excited as everyone when it's time to break out the tinsel and stockings (Hmmmm, I just realized that could apply to either a strip club or holiday decorations.....) But in my house, it's not time yet.

One of the things that makes Christmas so special is that it's only here for a brief time. And frankly, a month is plenty long for me. If I put up a tree now, it will have become a part of the scenery by Christmas day. I won't even notice it anymore. If anything, I'll be ready to get it down just so I can have that corner of my living room back! But if it's only up for three or four weeks, it's still special and fun. If I turn on Christmas carols now, I'll be ready to punch Rudolph right in that red, glowing nose by December first!!

But the main reason I don't decorate early is because I feel like Thanksgiving gets robbed. It gets squished into this whole holiday hoopla with Christmas and New Year's, and doesn't get the appreciation and celebration it so rightly deserves. I've said before on this blog that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It's all about family togetherness and decadent food, and it brings with it the promise of the Christmas season. I adore that day from the parade in the morning, to the huge family gathering in the afternoon, right up to the lighting of the Rich's great tree that night. When the soprano hits that high note on Oh Holy Night, and that tree blazes into all its glowing glory, the Christmas season officially begins for me. But not one moment before. I want to fully embrace Thanksgiving day and take that time to count my blessings, enjoy my family, and humbly thank God for all that He has given me. So while I'll be decorating, it will be with pumpkins, gourds and fall leaves. You won't see one speck of Christmas cheer around this house until November 26th.

Now if you're one of those early decorators, that's okay- to each his own. I fully respect your right to deck your halls as early as you want to. (Unless you start in July like Hobby Lobby. I'm sorry, at that point, I just can't be your friend.) But I'm stickin' to my guns. We'll welcome Christmas with open arms- just as soon as we've polished off the turkey and pumpkin pie.

Birthday Wishes for My Sister

2010-11-04T10:46:00.004-04:00

Here's me at 19 and Paige at 6 with Elizabeth and our cousins

With the madness that's gone on around here this week, I let an important day get by me without comment. My tiny baby sister turned 19 on Monday. I'm not really sure how that's possible, because if she's 19, I'm far older than I care to acknowledge. She was born when I was in the 8th grade, and I vividly remember coming home from school to find a note on the door telling me to go next door to the neighbor's house because mom was at the hospital. I don't know how nearly two decades have come and gone since then, but apparently they have, because now she's 19 and a freshman in college. So here's what I wish for her this year, and the next few years to come.

I hope that she will make friends that will last a lifetime. The kind of friends that, 15 years later and miles apart, will still be her best friends. The ones that know her better than anyone and will always be there to laugh and cry with her.

I hope that she will fall deeply and truly in love for the first time. Even if she discovers, like I did, that your first love isn't necessarily meant to be your forever love.

I hope that she gets everything she wants. But if she does and then realizes it's not actually what she wants after all, I hope she'll fearlessly go down new paths, following new dreams.

I hope that there will be few struggles along the way. But when she does struggle, I hope that she'll come out of it stronger and wiser and even more confident in who she is and what she believes.

I hope that she will challenge herself to get out there and do new things- even things that scare her a little bit.

I hope that she will get in trouble from time to time. But not too much trouble!! Not anything that will leave her scarred for life or with an arrest record, just enough that she'll have some great stories to tell.

And finally, I hope that she will be happy and blessed. I hope that she will wake up some days bubbling over with joy at the sheer wonderfulness of her life.

So, happy belated birthday to my baby sister- may you get everything you wish for!!!

The Halloween from Hell

2010-11-01T10:46:00.005-04:00

Don't let the smiling faces in the cute pictures fool you- this was the weekend from hell. It should have been an awesome weekend, and it would have been if things had gone according to plan. But when do things ever go according to plan? Here's what was supposed to happen. Saturday morning, Matt had to go into work for a few hours. He was going to come home in the afternoon to take the kids to the big trick-or-treat bonanza that takes place downtown. Then his mom was going to come over and babysit the kids so we could have a lovely date night dinner and a movie. That would be followed by a relaxing Sunday, ending with me taking Mason trick-or-treating in Yaya and Grandaddy's neighborhood. Sounds lovely, right? Here's what actually happened....

Matt headed out the door at 6:30 a.m. He was working on a big moving project for a client, so we knew it would take a while, but no one could have predicted how long it actually took. We were scheduled to take the kids downtown at 4:00, but I started to get concerned when I still hadn't heard from Matt at 2:00. 2:30, no Matt, 3:00, no Matt. By then it was obvious that he wasn't making it home in time to take the kids. Luckily, my mom came over to help me get them ready and came with us to the awesome trick or treat fest that our town holds each year. That was actually really fun. The kids all had a good time, and even though Hays refused to wear his puppy ears, they all looked really cute in their costumes. But the fun ended there.

We got home around 5 and my mother in law was coming to babysit at 6. I called Matt to make sure he was at least going to make it home in time for date night. His response was, "I hope we're going to be done in an hour." Considering that he was thirty minutes away and that they're NEVER done in an hour, I knew with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that date night wasn't going to happen. I called Pat to let her know that she was off the babysitting hook. She kindly offered to bring dinner over for the kids and give me a hand, but I foolishly said, "No, that's okay. I'll just feed them here and eat take-out with Matt later." The kids, having been promised McDonald's with Nana, outright refused every dinner suggestion I had. When I called my mom to complain about the disaster my evening had become, she offered to meet us at the Mexican place nearby.

I hate taking my kids out to eat. It's always much more trouble than it's worth. But I was hoping to salvage some small piece of the evening and make the kids happy, so against my better judgement, I agreed. It wasn't as bad as I thought. It was much, much worse. I have never, ever seen my children behave as badly in public as they did that evening. Mason was impossible. He wouldn't listen, messed with everything on the table, just made a general pain in the ass of himself. Hays was out of his mind- screaming and refusing to eat, and when he wasn't doing that he was making a disastrous mess and getting into everything in sight. Will was actually fine. He just made an epic mess and got silly with Mason, but he was the best of the bunch.

It doesn't sound that bad, but honestly, you just had to be there. It was awful. It was so bad in the first five minutes, that when the waitress came to take our order, I didn't even order. I knew I'd be so busy trying to wrangle the evil demon that had taken over Hays, that there was no hope of actually eating a meal. By the end, all mom and I could do was laugh, but it was that laughter bordering on hysteria that you do when things can't possibly get worse. But they did.

I got the kids home, bathed and into bed. I poured myself a jug of wine, Matt finally got home and we settled for Chinese instead of a fun date. I was exhausted and collapsed into bed around 11:00. An hour later I was awoken by a crying Mason, barking like a seal and gasping for breath. Croup, for the second time in as many months. Twenty minutes later after sitting in a steamy bathroom and giving him a hit of Will's Albuterol (doctor approved!) we were back in bed. An hour later Hays wakes up crying. And hour after that, Will. Then Hays. Then Mason, crying barking, gasping. Oh yeah, it was quite a night.

Sunday morning started with a trip to the urgent care center for Mason. Steroids for the cough, Tylenol for the fever. The usual. We get home to find that Will is coughing an awful lot. I try to give him Robitussin- he throws it up. Wait a while and try again- he throws it up again. We give up. He feels fine, he's just coughing, so figure we'll just wait it out and keep an eye on him.Matt's mom had offered to watch the kids so we could go to lunch since our date night had been thwarted, and we took her up on it. That was lovely. We had a nice lunch (during which we were only interrupted by one work-related phone call), then a trip to Target to scout out Christmas presents for the kids. As we're leaving Target, Matt's mom calls. Will is coughing badly and can't stop.

When we get home, he's coughing his brains out. Matt's mom has successfully given him Robitussin and we gave him a breathing treatment, but the coughing continues. Then he throws up the Robitussin. Off to St. Mary's we go. When we get there, his oxygen levels are fine, he has no fever, and the coughing levels off some. He still has bad coughing fits, but it's not so constant. They do a chest x-ray and give him a breathing treatment, but determine that it's post-nasal drip from allergies, and not a relapse of pneumonia. We're on our way home with a prescription for very strong cough medicine in time for me to take Mason trick-or-treating!

Trick or treating was great. My mom, my sister, Paige, and I took Mason around the neighborhood. He collected his fill of candy, then headed back to my parent's house to hand out candy with Grandaddy. I got to hang out with my mom and sister for a while, and at least the weekend from hell ended on a high note.

Well, for me anyway. I came home and got Mason to bed and fell into bed not long after myself. Poor Matt was working from home until 4 am, got up 3 1/2 hours later to start the grind again, and God only knows when he'll get home tonight. So I'm on my own all day today with all three kids. Yay. And there's no school tomorrow because it's election day. Double yay. Surely things will get better? Right??????

Mason's Awesome Faux-hawk

2010-10-28T07:40:00.003-04:00

This week is Red Ribbon week at school and the kids have a dress-up theme for each day. It's been fun. Monday was sports jersey day, Tuesday was tie-dye (which led to our first attempt at tie-dying a t-shirt. It was messy and fun, and successful!), Wednesday they wore red, and today is crazy hair day.

Mason wanted a mohawk, so I did my best to punk him out good! We used some super-hold gel that felt like elmer's glue and the hair dryer to make it stand up as much as possible. It's a little droopy, but he still looks pretty darn cute!! Now I have to go wash his favorite jammies for pajama day tomorrow. I wonder if I can declare it pajama day for me as well?

Mom, You're Embarrassing Me!

2010-10-26T07:36:00.007-04:00

You know when you have kids that one day they're going to find you incredibly embarrassing. Even when they're itty-bitty and think that you hung the moon, you know that the day will come when that will all change. I knew it would happen with Mason, I just didn't think it would happen when he was six! But lately, Mom's not quite as cool as she used to be.

It was brought to my attention a couple of weeks ago when we were coming home from soccer practice. Mason suddenly piped up from the backseat, "Mom, I don't like it when you talk to the other moms at soccer practice." I asked him why. "Because I just don't. It makes me feel weird. You're too loud when you say 'hey' and it makes me kind of feel like I hate you." Ouch. So I asked him what he thought I should be doing. "Nothing. You should just sit there and watch me and not talk to anybody." I told him that just wasn't going to happen. I tried to explain that I get precious little time to talk to other moms, and like it or not, I'll be taking every opportunity I get to have a real conversation. He wasn't thrilled with that, but he didn't say anything more.

Until this Saturday. We were at the soccer fields and this time it was a game. I was cheering for his team- nothing out of the ordinary, just "Go Michael! Good job, Robert," etc. But then I get, "Mom, I don't like it when you cheer." Dang, man, slap a muzzle on me and sit me in the corner why don't you! I had to fight the childish urge to cheer for everyone else, but stay quiet as a mouse when he was on the field- since it's embarrassing and all. (Though I admit to chilidishly responding, "Well, I don't like it when you do cartwheels on the field!) I kept cheering, but only when they did something really great like score a goal. Now, I did jump out of my chair and yell, "YES!!!! Go Mason!!!" when he scored a goal, but that was pure reflex.

The good thing is, even though we're in the beginning stages of finding your parents utterly humiliating, we're still only at the beginning. He still loves us for the most part. He came off the field after scoring two awesome goals and hugged me and sat in my lap. So thankfully, we've got a ways to go before he refuses to acknowledge me in public. But even when he gets to that stage, I'll still be there, cheering him on- even if it embarrasses him to death!

The So-Called "Twin Bond"

2010-10-25T07:31:00.004-04:00

Lately I've been pondering the mythical "twin bond"- whether it actually exists and if my boys have it. It's hard to say. I wouldn't say from watching them on a day to day basis that they have some deep, psychological connection. For the most part, they each kind of do their own thing. They have remarkably different temperaments. Will is an outgoing charmer. He's busy and into everything and usually has a smile on his face. Hays is quieter and more self contained. He's moodier than Will, but he can also entertain himself for remarkable periods of time. He'll spend 30 minutes running his Hotwheels up and down the window sill, during which time Will will have dismantled the kitchen, escaped out the back door and hot wired the car.

But just when I think they couldn't be more different, I notice odd connections. Pooping for one. I swear to God, 9 times out of 10 they poop within five minutes of each other. (I don't know if that's a psychological connection or weird coincidence. Probably TMI either way...) And when they're sitting on the couch together, they usually wind up sitting side by side, leaning on each other, even if they start at opposite ends. But while those things certainly don't prove the idea of a twin bond, there's no denying they're connected.

I rarely go anywhere with just one boy, but when I do, he's always looking for his brother. The other day I took Hays to the store with me and left Will and Mason home with Nana. Even though he was very excited about a trip to the store "jus' Haysie and Mama" he still asked "Where Will?" as I was buckling him into the car. As we were walking into the store, he was looking around calling, "Wiiiiiiiilllllll!" And as soon as we left he told me, "Go home see Will!" Now, I don't know if this is due to the fact that they're twins, or just a natural result of being together all the time, but they definitely don't like it when the other one is not around.

Twin bond or just plain old brother bond, it puts a long standing worry to rest. When they were born and then spent the next five months separated, I worried that untold damage was being done to their special twin relationship. I was afraid that they would never have the closeness that twins are supposed to share. But I don't worry about that any more. When I watch them work together to get into something they're not supposed to, I know that regardless of how different they are, they're still two peas in a pod!!

Back to School and other Fall Fun

2010-10-22T13:58:00.004-04:00

Can't have Halloween without a tombstone or two!!

Pumpkin gravyard, perhaps?

Lovely pumpkin/leaf/gourd thingie

Our Halloween display!

My very festive fall leaf garland and wreath

The twins finally went back to school this week! It was glorious. They haven't been in two weeks, and I was oh so ready for them to go back. They'd settled in really well at school and had gotten to the point that there were no tears when I left. I wondered if we'd have to start all over after after our two week sabbatical, but luckily that was not the case. They were very excited when I told them Tuesday morning that they were going to school. It went something like this:

Me: Boys, guess what? You get to go to school today!

Twins: Yay, school!! Miss Angie! Miss Diane!

Me: Yes, you get to see Miss Angie and Miss Diane! School is awesome!

Hays: School awesome!!

And it was indeed awesome when they ran into their classroom, hugged their teachers, and said, "Bye mom!" without a single tear!! And I had, for the first time in two weeks, three quiet hours to myself. Of course, I wasted it by coming home and mucking out the playroom, but at least we're down two giant bags of broken toys and junk!

Now we're counting down to Halloween. We've got our front porch decorated, and Mason's got his costume (Mario of Super Mario Brothers). The twins almost have costumes. I decided that I wasn't going to shell out $40 or so for crappy costumes that they'd probably refuse to wear anyway, so I have to make costumes. Will is going to be a fireman. He's wearing a fireman raincoat that was Mason's when he was little and a red plastic fire chief hat that currently resides in the dress-up box in our playroom. Cost for his costume- $0. Hays is going to be a dalmatian. I've got to get a white sweatshirt and sweatpants for him, but I already have black felt to make spots and puppy ears. Cost for his costume- less than $10. That I can live with! Our town has Halloween festivities downtown where all the merchants pass out candy. Since our little guys are a bit too young for trick-or-treating, this daytime celebration is perfect for them. I'm planning to use cardboard to decorate their little wagon like a firetruck and use that to pull them around downtown. We'll see how it works- I don't really have a whole lot of confidence in my artistic ability to pull of anything that even remotely resembles a firetruck, but it's worth a shot.

Mason's True Colors Revealed....

2010-10-18T09:05:00.002-04:00

My favorite monster

Seriously, how freaky is this???

We roasted marshmallows Saturday night after we finished decorating the front porch for Halloween. Our neighbors, Charlotte and Diane, came over to roast marshmallows with us. Charlotte brought her very cool, and very realistic, horns. Mason was very excited to wear them, and they really brought out his inner demon!!

Coughing, Coughing, and More Coughing

2010-10-16T12:05:00.002-04:00

It's been a looooooong week around here. Will's been getting progressively better. He feels better and has more energy each day. The problem is that he still has a horrible, racking cough that strikes him several times a day. At it's best, it's incredibly annoying. At it's worst, it chokes him to the point that he's gagging and his lips are blue. Obviously, it's scary and upsetting to him, and he just cries, "Mommy, mommy" until it's over. Just imagine how frustrating it is to hold your coughing, gasping baby over and over each day, knowing that there's not a damn thing you can do to help him. It's awful, and it's been happening all hours of the day and night for the last seven days. It's maddening and exhausting.

And as if the coughing fits weren't enough, it's been an endless cycle of medicine and nebulizer treatments (or as we call them, hose noses) I swear, every time I turn around it's time to force another spoonful of antibiotics, or steroids, or cough medicine down his throat. And if I'm not doing that, I'm fighting with him to keep the mask on while I administer yet another hose nose. All of this punctuated by incessant coughing! It's enough to make a mom lose her mind!!!

I just keep telling myself that it won't last forever, and doing it at home beats doing it in the hospital. But it's very little consolation when you're by yourself, day in and day out, trying to be the nurse and the mommy and the cook and the housekeeper. (though from the current state of things, it would appear that the housekeeper took the week off. But hey, something's gotta give!) Hopefully we've only got a few more days of it sounding like the tuberculosis ward around here. I'm not sure I can take it for more than a few more days, so I'm crossing my fingers really hard.

My New Blog

2010-10-14T14:08:00.003-04:00

After thinking about it for a while, I started a new blog. It's called "What Cameron's Cooking..." and as the title would lead you to believe, it's all about what I'm cooking on any given day. I love to cook and collect awesome recipes. I especially love to cook for my friends and family. Since many of you are too far away to come for dinner, I'm sharing the recipes I love. So now, not only can you read about all the craziness of daily life, you can feel like you're sitting at our dinner table (minus the twins throwing food at you). There's a handy dandy link to your right, click on it and join us for dinner!

Screw You, Three!

2010-10-14T08:37:00.004-04:00

I've been a member of a message board for twin moms since the day I found out I was expecting twins. I came home from that fateful doctors appointment and went online in search of someone to talk me down from the ledge of panic and fear I was standing on. I found a great group of girls that did that and more. Over the last three years we have shared confidences and given advice, and while I have only had the pleasure of meeting one in person, they have truly become soul sisters. I realize that, as with any online community, any of them could actually be creepy guys in a dark basement with pictures of their "kids" coming right out of the frame they bought at Walmart (that would actually explain a lot about one girl, but that's another story for another time). But creepy guy possibilities aside, they're awesome and I love 'em.

I checked in yesterday to see that one had posted a thread asking if anyone had started planning for their twins' upcoming third birthdays. That stopped me in my tracks. Third birthday? THIRD BIRTHDAY?????? How can they be turning three?? And how can they be turning three so soon that we're talking about birthday parties? Three is so old. A three year old is a preschooler. Not a baby, not even a toddler, a preschooler. And Will and Hays are my babies. Two I can handle, even 2 1/2, but three is out of the question.

I am not ready for them to move completely, irrevocably out of the baby stage. Plus, three means that I absolutely have to get them potty trained, and that is a monumental task that I'm not sure I can fully face. We've been dabbling in potty usage, but I have not committed to hardcore potty training. That's okay at two, but unacceptable at three. Plus, three year olds need to know their colors, numbers and ABCs. Mine still insist that everything is red, count "1, 2, 2, 5, 8...." and Will sings "A, B, C, D, D, D, D..." (Hays has a little better handle on the ABCs, but I'm still not sure he's at 3 year old level).

And plus, I'm not ready to let my sweet babies become big boys. I love my cuddly, snuggly boys that still say, "Mommy hold you" every day, and I am not ready to let that go. These guys are the last stop on the baby train for us (unless we win the lottery or science finds a way to guarantee a girl) and I'm not in any big hurry for it to end. Sure, you can do more with big kids, and big kids are really funny and insightful, but babies are SO SWEET!!!!

So I'm boycotting the third birthday. I'm keeping them two, and that's all there is to it. I'm not quite sure yet how I'm going to do that, but I'm going to find a way!

Home Sweet Home

2010-10-13T12:15:00.002-04:00

We're home, thank goodness, and Will is MUCH better. We were released around 7:00 Monday evening. Will had had a pretty good day, and his sats were staying in the mid-high 90s even when he was sleeping. He was still feeling pretty crappy and laid around most of the day, but he didn't have any fever and wasn't requiring any oxygen. I spent the whole day praying that we would all be sleeping in our own beds that night!!!

Admittedly, it wasn't a very restful night. I was coughing my brains out, Hays was waking up over and over (the pediatrician thinks Hays and I both had walking pneumonia as well) and we had to give Will nebulizer treatments every four hours. But I'd rather have a sleepless night at home than a sleepless night in the hospital!

Both boys were pretty puny yesterday and spent most of the day lying on the couch watching tv. Will had a bad, bad coughing fit in the morning. It lasted about a half hour and had him turning purple from time to time. I was scared to death that we would be heading right back to St. Mary's, but the pediatrician reassured me that it was to be expected, and that a bigger dose of cough medicine would help. It did, and though he did a fair amount of coughing throughout the day, he stopped turning bluish-purple!

And today, they both seem just about back to their normal, rambunctious selves. They have a little less energy than they usually do, but not much less. They have more than enough to fight, play, and attempt to take the house apart, so I think they're on the mend!

The Funk

2010-10-10T07:26:00.005-04:00

The plague has descended upon our house. Hays started getting a cold last weekend, I followed suite a couple of days later, and now Will is in its clutches. It has made for a long, miserable, snotty, whiny week.

It's been fairly impossible to make Hays happy all week. He's normally a pretty laid back, compliant little dude, but not when he's sick. If he's not feeling good, he's a grumpy little bear, and that's certainly been the case this week.
"Hays, do you want to watch a Baby Einstein movie?"
"No!"
"Do you want a snack?"
"No snack!!!"
"Do you want to play outside?"
"No play outside!!!"
It was particularly fun when I had to take them to Publix. I made the dreadful mistake of getting Hays a chocolate chip cookie, instead of the sprinkle cookie he apparently wanted, so he promptly threw it on the floor and screamed "Cooooooooookie" through the rest of the shopping trip. Lovely.

Now, when Will's sick, he doesn't get mean, he gets pitiful. He's actually ten times easier to manage when he's sick because he's too listless to get up to his usual shenanigans. The downside is that Will being sick is terrifying. From the first sniffle, we start worrying if his cold is going to settle into his lungs. The more congested he gets, the more we worry. Once the coughing starts, I'm constantly wondering if it's just a matter of time before we have to head to the emergency room. He had a rough time last night. Lots of bad coughing fits, and we had to get him up twice to give him Albuterol. For now, it's working, and hopefully a strict regimen of steroid breathing treatments twice a day and Albuterol every four hours will get us through this bout of funk without a trip to St. Mary's, but only time will tell. Who knew the common cold could be so freakin' scary?

***UPDATE***
Maybe I should be careful about what I blog, because not two hours after I posted this, we were sitting in the ER. Will woke up this morning with a near-constant cough, and having been through this before, I didn't hesitate to head over to St. Mary's once an Albuterol treatment didn't make a dent in his symptoms. We spent five hours in the ER to get 3 breathing treatments, one RSV test, two chest x-rays, a dose of steroids and an antibiotic shot. I figured they'd send us home after that, because they always have in the past, but no such luck.
He fell asleep for a little while on Matt's chest, and his oxygen sats dropped way low- like 85- and they had to put him on oxygen. Oxygen= at least one night in the hospital. So they finally admitted us after we spent five hours in a tiny curtained cubicle, listening to the woman next to us moan like she was dying.
Once we got to the room, Will was all jacked up on breathing treatments and steroids and spent the next 30 minutes trying to take the room apart. Luckily, he ran out of steam pretty quickly and was relatively content to lay around and snuggle with me. I stayed with him all afternoon and Matt's spending the night with him. Matt can sleep anywhere, so while it won't be a pleasant night, he should be able to get some rest. I, on the other hand, often can't sleep at home in my own bed, so I sure wouldn't sleep at the hospital. And God knows, we both need sleep because tomorrow will be another long day. But I'm still sitting at home dealing with my mom guilt over not staying. Even though his daddy is there and he was dead to the world when I left. Doesn't matter. If I was there, I would feel mom guilt for not being home when Mason and Hays got up. And now that I'm here I feel mom guilt that I'm not at the hospital. You can't win.
But I talked to Matt about an hour ago. Will's passed out cold. He woke up briefly, got some cough medicine and refused to sleep[ without his oxygen mask. We figured he'd fight that thing tooth and nail, but I guess he realized it's a heck of a lot easier to sleep when you can breathe easily. He's surprised me a lot today. I swore up and down to the nurses that he'd yank an IV right out, but he's been perfect with it. Every time he started messing with it, I just had to tell him, "Leave your robot arm alone or you'll hurt it," and he's quit messing with it. I guess that kid knows what he needs. He's always been quite intuitive about what he needs. Don't forget, this is the child that removed his own trach and g-tube. Guess we just have to trust him!!
So now I'm heading to bed, trying to rest up for tomorrow. I know that my future holds a toddler with 'roid rage who's feeling better but is still cooped up in a little hospital room. I've got a backpack of toys ready for him. Pray that his oxygen stats stay up and we bring him home tomorrow. This is one mama hen that does not like having a chick (and her rooster) missing from her nest.

Ouch.....

2010-10-06T22:27:00.001-04:00

This is the result of a backyard fall today. School pictures are tomorrow. I hope the photographer is good with photoshop.....

Walking Man

2010-10-06T07:28:00.003-04:00

During the last week or so, Mason and I have started walking together in the evenings. It has obvious benefits, such as getting me and our dog off our fat asses to get some exercise, but it's had unanticipated rewards as well. I hadn't planned to make this a mom and Mason activity. He used to start complaining thirty feet into a walk about his feet being tired, being bored etc., so the last thing I expected to hear when I told him I was taking the dog for a walk was, "I think I'll come with you." At first I was wary and gave him lots of warnings like, "we're going all around the neighborhood, even the big hills, and I don't want to hear any complaining!" I was pleasantly surprised when not only did he not complain, he wanted to walk much farther than I had planned!

And that long walk turned out to be an amazing thing. I got 30 minutes to just be with my son. We got to talk with no interruptions. He told me things about school and his friends. I got to take a break from telling him what to do and just enjoy him, and it was awesome. I had this time to appreciate how smart and funny he is, to look at him and truly see him, instead of casting a harried glance as I rush to get everything done. It was really a precious time, and I told him when we got home how much I'd enjoyed his company. I figured it would be a one, maybe two time thing before he tired of it, but so far he's asked every night if we can walk together. And every night has been just as special as the first.

I realize that I am really lucky to have these moments with him. I know that all too soon the day will come that walking with his mom will be the last thing on earth Mason wants to do. But I'm going to relish every bit of it while I can.

Mmmmm, butter......

2010-10-04T06:38:00.001-04:00

If you ever come to my house for dinner, you might want to avoid the butter.....

Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My!

2010-10-03T22:23:00.003-04:00

It's sort of embarrassing to admit, but Matt and I, until yesterday, had never taken our kids to the zoo. That's such a staple of childhood, and yet, somehow, we'd just never quite made it there. Maybe it was the fear of driving an hour with three kids who potentially might scream the entire way. Maybe it was concern over becoming one of those stories you read about where a parent looks away for two seconds, and next thing you know, a toddler's in the lion cage. (That actually isn't too far-fetched- y'all know how Will is.) Most likely it was the astronomical costs of taking a family of five to the zoo that's kept us away. $65 bucks for tickets alone- keeping in mind that the twins don't even need tickets yet- is enough to make anyone think, "do they really need to see lions and panda bears?" But since my mom was kind enough to buy us tickets, and we have, after all, made it driving 5 hours to the beach every summer without killing anyone, it was time to man up and take the kids to the zoo.
Saturday was perhaps the most perfect weather on earth, and my sister and her husband kindly agreed to meet us to help wrangle the children. And I think everyone actually had a good time. Hays LOVES animals, so he was in hog heaven. He greeted all the creatures enthusiastically, "Hi, famingos! Hi, zebra! Hi, gidaff!" And he really wanted to get close to them. He told the elephant, "I hold you? High five?" Unfortunately the elephant didn't seem too interested in letting Hays hold him. Neither did the meerkats. Luckily, the goats and sheep at the petting zoo were happy enough to have Hays love on them. Good thing since he insisted on kissing each one. Will, on the other hand, was way more interested in the hand washing station. Why pet a goat when you can play in water?
I thought that they would all love the panda bears, and I was sort of right. Hays did indeed love the pandas- the stuffed pandas in the gift shop that is. We passed the store on the way to the panda exhibit and he practically had a conniption fit trying to go in. I promised we'd come back after we saw the real pandas. Well, he took one look at those adorable bears being all cute with their bamboo, and was ready to head back to the gift shop. Sigh. At least I managed to talk him out of the $75 life size panda and convince him that the $8 version was even better.
Mason liked the zoo but he told me it wasn't like he'd dreamed. When I asked what was different, he told me "Well, I thought it would be one big building with lots of animals in different cages." I explained to him how animals are much happier and healthier when they're outdoors in areas that resemble their natural habitat, but he didn't seem too impressed. I'm pretty sure he would have preferred his version. Sure the animals are miserable, but you can see them really well!
All in all, it was a great day. We were whipped by the end of it, but it was worth it. We fulfilled our parental obligations to take our kids to the zoo, and nobody screamed the hour there or back- not even me!

The dreaded meeting with the teacher....

2010-10-01T07:25:00.002-04:00

I had a meeting with Mason's teacher yesterday. It didn't come as a big surprise. I had the same meeting in kindergarten, and preschool, and I'm sure I'll have it next year. So what was it about? The same thing it's always about: "Mason is so smart, but he's not focused/doesn't pay attention/doesn't listen/doesn't follow directions. He is so capable but he rushes through his work/makes careless mistakes/ doesn't work to his full potential. Mason is a good kid and a natural leader, but he talks too much/ wants to do things his way/ wants to call the shots."

I've heard it over and over since he was three years old (and I've known most of it since he was about three days old!) We've talked to him, lectured him, punished him, rewarded him, bribed him, begged him...... And we do see improvement, but so much of that is just who Mason is. And I get it, I so get it, because you see, Mason and I are exactly alike. My mother sat through that very same teacher meeting every year of my academic career. She talked, implored, bribed, threatened me every school year of my life, all to no avail. (So you know that while she's sympathetic to my plight, she's also laughing her ass off just a little bit!!)

And because Mason and I are basically two peas in a pod, I know that he's compelled to rush through his work and finish it as quickly as possible, attention to detail be damned! I understand that unless it's something he finds interesting, he's going to do as little as he possibly can to get by so he can move on to other things. And am very familiar with the daydreaming that leads to missed instructions and a confused, "Now, what are we supposed to do????" I've been there. For 32 years now, I've been there. And I'm still a disorganized daydreamer. I still rush headlong into something without paying attention to directions or details. It makes my life harder than it has to be, and it will likely do the same for him.

Even though I completely empathize with Mason, I'll still stay on his butt to pay attention, follow directions, do his best work, etc. That's just what moms do. And no doubt I'll punish him for getting in trouble at school, or getting grades that don't reflect his full potential. But while I'm fussing at him, the schoolgirl inside of me will be saying, "Dude, I totally understand." Hopefully, he'll have an easier time of it than I did. But until he does, I might as well go in on the first day and schedule that conference for right about the second month of school.

Fire, fire!!

2010-09-28T08:02:00.004-04:00

Will tried to burn the house down yesterday. Okay, that's not entirely true. I don't think he actually was thinking "Hahaha, I'm gonna burn this sucker down," but since it was his actions that led to a small kitchen fire, I'm blaming him.
I was making dinner yesterday and I turned on the oven to preheat so I could make some biscuits. While it was heating, I went in the playroom to waste time on Facebook. Mason said, "Mom, something smells like roasting marshmallows." I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, so I said, "Oh, that's just dinner cooking." I few seconds later, I got a whiff of something distinctly campfire-ish. I turned around to see smoke pouring from the oven vents. Uh-oh. I ran into the kitchen to find a flaming potholder burning away in the oven. After a moment's panic of "Oh God, fire, kids in the house, what do I do?!!" I grabbed kitchen tongs, told Mason to keep his brothers out of the way, pulled out the burning potholder, threw it in the sink and ran water over it. Crisis averted.
We have Will to thank for the smoky kitchen and blackened mess in the sink. He's discovered that he can open the oven, but I didn't realize he was filling it with kitchen supplies! Now I guess we'll have to get a lock for the oven and it can join the ranks of the locked dishwasher, cabinets and pantry. But until I get one, I guess I'll be checking the oven before I try to preheat it again!!

Facing my addiction

2010-09-26T19:15:00.005-04:00

Chair before.....

chair after!

(the distressing looks better in person)

No one is safe from project mania!!

The footboard that we turned into a fabulous headboard!

Hi, my name is Cameron, and I am addicted to home decorating. It has been almost 24 hours since I have painted or reupholstered and already I'm getting antsy and anxious.....

If there was such a thing as home decorators anonymous, I would sooooo be there. In the last few weeks I have painted until my hands feel like they might fall off. I don't know what it is. I always like to have some kind of crafty project going, but lately, I've taken it to new levels. It all started three weeks ago when I decided that the deck on the front of the house and the shutters needed painting. Then I decided we really ought to install window boxes in all the windows. That fun little adventure stretched over two weeks, and it's still not completely done, we've got one window box left to install- trying to drill into brick is much harder than I thought. It was an insane amount of work, but yielded lovely results. I'd take some pictures, but it's raining, and like I said, we still have one window box to go.

But somehow that project started this whole ball of home improvement rolling. The next weekend brought the quest for kitchen chairs. My crappy, cheapo chairs were falling apart, so I decided to go junkin' to find some new ones that I could fix up. Sure, I could just buy normal, finished kitchen chairs that required no work, but where's the fun in that? The finding of the chairs was easy enough- found 'em the minute I walked into my favorite junk shop. And I didn't have any trouble finding the fabric to reupholster the seats either. But the amount of work it has taken to refinish them is insane. I wanted kind of a shabby chic look, so after I spent several hours painting them with three coats of white paint, I took sandpaper and scuffed them all up so they would look old and beat up. One might wonder why I didn't just buy some old beat up chairs to begin with? Well, duh, that would never do. I can't just have any old raggedy chair, they have to be beat up in a certain way! There's a science to this.

I claim no responsibility for the project that snowballed off the chair search. I blame that one entirely on my mother in law. After we found chairs, she mentioned that she had a seen a chest of drawers that might look good in Mason's room and offered to buy it for him. Sweet! But then we started worrying that this nice, new piece might make the rest of his furniture look crappy. Obviously that would never do, so what could she do but buy him a new nightstand and shelves? Which meant that he would need a new headboard. And we would have to paint his bookshelves. And hamper. And install new blinds. And while we found a headboard, it just wasn't quite right, so we decided to use the footboard as a head board and mount it on the wall- after I painted it. You understand right? We had no choice. It simply had to be done. On the upside, it looks fabulous!

See, it's like a drug habit. You try just a little bit, then you need just a little bit more.... then it spirals out of control and the next thing you know you're standing in Lowe's with a cart full of tools and supplies begging the guys at the paint counter to mix just one more color. And if I'm not redecorating, I'm thinking about it. Sometimes thinking about a new project will literally keep me awake at night. I know, I know, it's ridiculous. But I can't help it, it's an addiction!!

But I'm trying to get it under control. I'm nearing the end of project-palooza. All I've got left to do is refinish the kitchen table and reface the kitchen cabinets, and then I'm stopping. I promise. Maybe. Unless the the gussied-up kitchen starts to make the playroom look shabby and tired.....

Pay up, Tooth Fairy!!!

2010-09-25T19:34:00.004-04:00

Today is a big day for the Mase-man. He lost his first tooth!!!!! And since he's one of the last among his friends to lose a tooth, it's a really big deal. He'd been worrying about it for about six months, and I promised him that if he hadn't lost one by Christmas, we'd go to the dentist and ask her about it. But no worries now! He is officially a member of the snaggletooth squad!!

I'm a little worried about the Tooth Fairy's going rate these days. In our house, she will be giving $5 for the first tooth and $2 for subsequent teeth. I think that sounds reasonable, but who knows? I swear if he goes to school on Monday and some kid goes, "Five dollars? All you got was five dollars? The tooth Fairy left me a twenty." I'm going to go to that kid's house and punch his/her parents in the face for being an idiot and setting a bad precedent!

Mason's actually had lots of big days lately. He's playing soccer again, and this year he's on a team that actually wins sometimes! I mean, sure, it's all supposed to be fun whether they win or not. But let's be honest, winning is always more fun.

He's also joined the cub scouts. I signed up to be the assistant leader- partly because no else volunteered, and partly because I need to learn some boy stuff. As a girly-girl with no brothers, a have a shameful lack of knowledge about stuff like campfires and bb guns. If you need somebody to put tiny shoes on Barbie's feet or braid My Little Pony's tail, I'm your girl, but tell me to tie a square knot and I'm sunk! Hopefully this way I'll learn some useful skills.

School Daze

2010-09-22T11:33:00.008-04:00

How cute are these? I did the letters myself!

No, Mommy! No picture!!!

Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to school I go

Come on, Mom! Let's gooooooooo!!!
(And that's where the pictures stop. No cute going in the

classroom shots, because there are two of them and one

of me, and that equals not enough hands to take pictures!)

Since I gave up blogging for the summer (it was too hot and boring- nobody wants to read two months of posts complaining about the weather and my whiny kids), you haven't heard about the twins latest adventure: preschool!!! Three weeks ago they took the first step down their educational path and began preschool one morning a week for three hours. Thus far, it's been glorious- three beautiful hours to myself (and I think they're having fun, too!)

I was a little nervous about starting them so young- Mason was three when he started and they're only 2 1/2. But I figured, they've got each other, so it's not like I'm dumping them alone in a roomful of strangers. Of course, the sobs you hear as I walk out the door would make you believe otherwise. This is a typical drop off: We get ready and they're all excited, "Yay, backpack! Yay, school! Yay, Miss Angie, Miss Diane!" We get to school and they dash to their classroom, run in the door, wave to their teachers, and...... burst into tears, but according to their teachers, they settle down quickly. And I get to walk out the door, free as a bird, for the first time in, well, ever. See, when Mason started preschool, I was newly pregnant with the twins. So instead of enjoying three hours of freedom each week, I used his school days for the 900,000 doctors appointments that crazy, medical mystery of a pregnancy required. But not this time, my friends. These three hours are mine, all mine!!!!

Sadly enough, three hours goes far too quickly and I generally use them to do something totally boring, like clean house. (And the fact that I can't manage to finish cleaning it in that three hours should tell you something about the general state of my house!) But still, it's three hours of quiet. Three hours of bathroom doors that can stay open, three hours of pet food that can stay on the floor, and sometimes I can even carry on an entire phone conversation without having to stop and yell at anyone!! And then, before you know it, it's 12:00 and I have to pick them up and the peace and quiet fades to a lovely memory. but I have the promise of next week's preschool morning to sustain me!

Batman

2010-09-21T17:43:00.005-04:00

We've got a bit of an embarrassing problem in my house, and it's getting to the point that I'm not sure we can take Hays out in public anymore. I'm not really sure how to explain this without coming off as the world's biggest racist, but I swear we're not. I'll start at the beginning....

A few months ago, Hays developed a real fondness for his older brother's action action figures, Batman in particular. And who can blame him- Batman's a cool guy, he's got the cape, the mask, the Batmobile. The problem is the way his fondness for Batman has translated into real life. You see, we live in a pretty non-diverse community, and Hays hasn't had a lot of exposure to those that are not of the caucasian persuasion. I didn't ponder this too much until we went to Sam's a month or so ago and Hays greeted the cashier, who was a black man, with, "Hi, Batman!" At first, I was confused. Batman? Why Batman? Then I realized, Batman has a black mask covering his face, and this guy is.... Oh, crap, this is not good.

I hoped (and prayed) that this was an isolated incident, but no, of course not. For the past several weeks, every time Hays sees a black man, he yells out a friendly, "Hi, Batman!" Most of the time I try to keep walking and hope they don't hear him, but sometimes that's not an option. Like when we go to Publix, and invariably see the one black guy working there (seriously, the lack of ethnic diversity out here is kind of embarrassing) who is now familiar with Hays' s "Batman" routine and seems less than amused by it. Especially now that one of the cashiers has caught on, and asks Hays every time we go in (2-3 times a week) "Where's Batman?" I want to yell, "For God's sake, don't encourage him!"

This weekend it got to the point that something absolutely had to be done. Mason was playing with two little boys from the neighborhood, one of whom was black, and Hays was following him around saying, "Hi, Batman! Batman, hi!!" And seriously, enough is enough, so the following conversation took place:
Me: Hays, that's Raymond.
Hays: No, Batman.
Me: No son, not Batman, Raymond.
Hays: Batman.
Me: Raymond. Say Raymond.
Hays: Waymond.
Me: (clapping) Yes!!! Raymond!! Say, "Hi, Raymond!"
Hays: Hi, Waymond!
So I'm hoping that will end our unfortunate Batman confusion. Of course, now he'll probably call every black guy we see Raymond. Sigh........ Maybe we'll just stay home until we're all a little more politically correct.

The Great Closet Battle of 2010....

2010-09-20T07:30:00.004-04:00

I have to start by saying I love my husband. He is a good man and I love him very much, but Matt and I have very different ways of doing things. My mother has always said that I have two speeds- full out and asleep. Matt, on the other hand, has three speeds- slow, slower, and asleep. It drives me nuts, but his laid back also helps balance out my frantic crazy, so most of the time it works for us. This weekend, it didn't.

Weekends around here are for all the projects we can't manage during the week, and this one was no exception. And this weekend's project was a doozy. Matt was going to tackle (with his mom's help) our god-awful disaster of a utility closet while I ferried Mason to soccer practice and the boy scout store 45 minutes away. He was going to put up new shelving, toss the mountains of junk that had been collecting dust for months and organize what was left. When I left the house at 11 am, I had visions of coming home to a nicely organized storage space instead of a cluttered closet that resembled an episode of Hoarders (minus mummified cats and rotting food). What I actually came home to four hours later was my MIL home with the kids while Matt was at Home Depot getting the shelving to get started cleaning the closet! Bear in mind- this was 3:00 in the afternoon!!!! What had he been doing while I was gone? Napping!!

Oh honey, you don't even want to know the details of the fight that went down then. My poor mother in law got to witness the door-slamming, cussing, ball of fury that I was at that point. It was not pretty. But geez, seriously? Nothing got done in four hours?? Oh wait, I take that back, he did manage to break the baby gate that keeps the twins out of the closet of danger and doom, so he had made it utterly impossible to keep them out of the disaster area. So essentially, he hadn't accomplished anything, but had instead made the situation worse, and made it so that the only way this closet was getting cleaned was if I helped him do it after the twins went to bed- arrrrgggghhhhhh!!!!!

I was so tempted to sit my big ol' behind on the couch and let him deal with that bio hazard all on his own, but being the sweet, kind, wonderful wife that I am (ha!) I got in there and helped him muck out that disaster. Four giant trash bags and 3 1/2 hours later we had a beautifully organized closet that we can actually walk in without killing ourselves. And we can find stuff!!! It's glorious and amazing, and I've almost forgiven him for being lazy and worthless- almost.

Will

2010-09-17T13:53:00.006-04:00

After an unfortunate run-in with a poke berry plant

Will. God, help us, that boy has had a heck of a week. Not that that's anything particularly out of the ordinary, since Will seems to have a magnetic attraction to trouble, but this week has taken the cake. It all started Monday afternoon soon after he woke up from a nap. I was in the kitchen cooking some chicken and Will was sitting on the sofa, quietly watching Sid the Science Kid- or so I thought. He was watching tv, however, he was also slowly jamming a long, skinny hair barrette into his ear and twisting it to the point that he lodged it in there. I had no idea this was going on until he ran to me crying with a barrette sticking out of his ear.

A trip to the doctor's office later, we had established that while he (luckily) hadn't punctured his eardrum, he had scraped up his ear canal beyond anything the doctor had ever seen. Awesome. His ear canal is still filled with dried blood that liquefies and drips out every time I put his antibiotics in, and he still tells me every day "ear hurts!" but I haven't seen him stick anything in there since. So hopefully he's learned a valuable- albeit painful- lesson about sticking things where they don't belong.

Tuesday was the day of Houdini-like escapes. Even though we've known of his escape artist tendencies for a while and had taken safety precautions to thwart his attempts, he has gotten smarter and more wily since, so Tuesday morning while I was in his room rooting through drawers in a desperate attempt to find two matching pairs of little socks, he was in the den pushing the armchair over to the door so he could stand on it, undo the chain latch, open the door, and run across the street to the neighbor's house. And since one great escape was apparently not enough, he was returned that afternoon by a different neighbor who discovered him playing in her yard after he escaped the confines of the backyard. After a trip to Home Depot, the house and yard are now locked down better than a state prison, and if he can get past our latest safety measures, I swear to God, I'm putting together a traveling show and taking his act on the road!

Wednesday, what did he do on Wednesday??? Something- I guarantee it, but it slips my mind at the moment. We'll come back to Wednesday.

Thursday he managed to injure himself on a Rubix Cube. Seriously, his finger was bleeding. How do you draw blood on a Rubix cube? It's plastic. It has no sharp corners! But Will managed. And keeps reminding me by coming up to me every hour or so, holding up his tiny index finger and saying, "Finger hurts! Kiss?" Luckily, kisses seem to be doing the trick.

And this morning, in the span of one hour after waking, he poured creamer all over the floor while trying to drink it, grabbed a glob of butter while I was making their toast and proceeded to butter his hands, feet and hair, and gagged himself with his toothbrush to the point that he puked on the floor.

And honestly, while the injuries were a bit extreme this week, all of the other stuff is just par for the course with Will. He is exhausting. He is constantly and actively looking for ways to get into trouble. It's really no wonder that Hays' latest sentence (because he hears it so often) is, "Oh man, Will, dammit!" And yet he brings me more joy and makes me laugh more in the course of a single day than you can imagine. His smile lights up a room, and he has the sweetest, most loving heart. He is pure sunshine. And I just have to keep reminding myself of that as I clean up yet another mess, or rescue him from yet another predicament, or shame-facedly retrieve him from a neighbor's house after yet another escape!

2010-06-30T16:03:00.003-04:00

Haysie on his big boy bed

Will pretending to be a doctor on a no-nap day

Mason and Chuck E. Cheese

Silly birthday boy

Looking all snazzy before Paige's fancy-pants graduation party

Well, my father in law pointed out last night that I'd basically abandoned my poor, lonely blog, and I felt guilty enough that I had to post! It's been basically two months since I've made it here, and plenty of things have happened. I've just been too lazy and facebook dependant to post about them! Okay, so we'll take it month by month.

May:

School ended- BOO!!!!! Mason was so incredibly sad. He seriously cried for close to an houthe last day. He kept telling me, "Mom, I'm going to miss school! I don't want kindergarten to be over. I love kindergarten. I'm going to miss Miss Kelli and Miss Beth and all my friends!" It was sort of hard to comfort him when I really wanted to cry too! I loved kindergarten as much as he did- he learned so much, and they kept him entertained and out of my hair 8 hours a day!!!

Matt turned 32 and we celebrated our 7th anniversary. Neither of those things were over-the-top exciting. We cooked steaks for Matt's birthday, woohoo, exciting. And for our anniversary, we got cheap tacos and margaritas at Taqueria Del Sol and went to see the new Sex and the City movie. It probably won't go down in history as the world's most thrilling anniversary celebration, but we had fun.

June:

Mason turned 6!!! Holy cow, 6. That doesn't seem possible. I have to admit, I was actually kind of depressed. Six seems so old. I was totally okay with five. Five is still a little kid age. But six seems to be the first step on the road to big kid, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that. Ready or not, the birthday happened and we celebrated in high style at Chuck E. Cheese. It was a zoo but the kids had a big time. And the grown-ups were happy because Chuck E. Cheese serves beer and wine. I will point out that my mother gave me a hard time about drinking wine at my own child's birthday party, so I did not partake of the crappy mouse wine. Instead, I had to make do with diet coke while my husband, father, sister and brother in law enjoyed mouse beer. (I do find it interesting that it was okay for Matt to have a beer, but not me. Hmmmmm)

Mason got more Bakugan than any one child ever should. Seriously, every gift but one was Bakugan. I guess his friends know him well. Of course, I'm sure the fact that he brought a Bakugan every week for show and tell kind of tipped them off.

After the birthday festivities, we settled into the long, hot, boring days of summer. It's averaged 10,000 degrees every afternoon, so we've been stuck inside waaaay too much. We've made it to my mom's pool a few times and the kids have had fun with that- even the water temperature is that of a warm bath. There has been lots of whining and fighting from the kids and plenty of yelling and threatening to run away from me. Luckily, we've had some visits from Aunt Ninny to distract us.

Mason had a week of bible school which provided not only spiritual enlightenment, but also a blissfull three hours of entertainment a day for an entire week. He's also been taking swimming lessons for the last two weeks, and he's really doing great with that. I mean, he's not Michael Phelps yet, but he can get partway across the pool without drowning, so yay!!

The twins made the switch to big-boy beds a couple of weeks ago, and that's been quite an adventure. They've actually done okay with it. There have been many times that they've played for an hour or more before finally giving up the good fight and going to sleep, and we've had to dole out a fair number of spankings and admonishments, but they're getting the hang of it. They're not getting out of their room- only because they can't since we've got a cover on the doorknob- but as long they're in their room, they're out of my hair.

I had a good time re-doing their room. It has a cowboy theme! I still have a couple of things to do to it, but maybe I'll post pictures when I'm finished. (I'm no longer making promises for future posts, because we have established that I'm lazy and unreliable)

But I will make a good effort to post again in no more than 2 1/2 weeks, because we're going to the beach!!!! Woohoo, St. Simons, here we come. And I know I'll have lots of tales and pictures to share with you, so check back soon.

2010-05-03T10:58:00.003-04:00

So did y'all think I ran off to Asheville and never returned? No such luck. We had a fabulous time, but we did, alas, return to the cold harsh reality of three kids and a messy house. It was tons of fun and when I win the lottery, I'm definitely going to buy a log cabin on the side of a mountain complete with hot tub.
We haven't had any major milestone events since we returned. Well, Mason scored his first goal at this past Saturday's soccer game, so that was a milestone. I, unfortunately, missed said milestone because I was home sick with sick kids. Over the past two weeks we have hosted a revolving door of illnesses. It started with a sinus/ear infection for Will, followed by a wretched cold for Hays and pinkeye for Will, immediately followed by a wretched cold for Will and concluding (hopefully) with colds for mom and dad. Yay........
And today I finally got back to blogging because we're stuck inside due to torrential downpours. I currently have the twins parked in front of Barney and I refuse to feel guilt about that. I have already taken them outside in their rainboots to splash in puddles, and then I let them paint. And if you've ever allowed one toddler to paint, you know I damn near deserve a medal for letting two of them to go at it!! It was messy, but now we have some lovely art.
Speaking of art, I have to brag on my latest culinary accomplishment- I learned how to make bagels!!! Is that cool or what? Don't even try to tell me you're not impressed because even my husband was impressed, and it takes a lot to impress him!! Yeah, they're fabulous. The only downside is the carb-loading that comes from having fresh bagels at your disposal.
Oh, and one more big, fat brag. (I'm just full of myself today aren't I?) March of Dimes March for Babies was this past Friday and I raised......drumroll, please...........over one thousand dollars!!!!!! And that, my friends, is awesome. I walked with my Mothers of Multiples group and our team raised over $3000, so we were darn proud of ourselves.
And now we're plowing through the last three weeks of school. I'm looking towards the summer with a mix of excitement and dread. It's going to be awesome to sleep in, but summer afternoons can get awfully long. I'm trying to come up with a bit of a schedule so we don't all die of boredom. Plus, I've decided to embrace my white-trash side and buy a big ol' plastic pool for the backyard. It's one of those that's a step up from an inflatable pool, but not an actual permanent above-ground pool. It's tacky as hell, but if you've ever experienced summer in Georgia, you know it's impossible to get outside past 8:30 in the morning unless you're in a pool. And since 2 1/2 months of being stuck inside with three kids will certainly lead to matricide, white-trash pool it is!!!!
And one final note, a big happy birthday shout-out to my in-laws who share the same birthday. The Old Man is turning 60, which officially makes him the REALLY Old Man, but I guess that beats the alternative. So happy birthday, Pat and Ron, hope it's a good one!!!!