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twinstant family

like instant mashed potatoes. but classy.

Updated: 2018-03-06T07:58:57.513-06:00


well something happened. they turned four. love letter time!


from a negligent blogger (yet attentive mother!).dear R,today you are four. ok. you were actually four 32 days ago. we. have. been. busy. a new busy like we did not know before. and by busy i mean a never ending loop of fun. and now you're four. FOUR!this year you reached an all new high with your love for being a mommy to your babies. and i know just how you feel. you are a marvel. a precious bundle of happiness and energy and glow. you love to learn and you love to teach. not necessarily in that order. it thrilled me this year to see true love reveal itself when you met your first nutcracker ballet. i had never seen you sit still with this intensity of concentration. you sat for an hour and a half, in your princess belle dress, hands clasped in your lap, eyes glued to the stage, motionless but face full of joy. at intermission i took you to the bathroom and you ran, pulling me back into the theater because you didn't want to miss anything. and you didn't. when we got home, a curtain was born, over your closet. your new "stage." that stage has been busy. you and C often (often) perform in that space. dancing. singing. playing the guitar. playing the drums. playing dress up. immediately the scene from the nutcracker where fritz grabs clara's new nutcracker became a regular reenactment. you bring your hands to your eyes, lower your head and pretend to sob. it's a prize-winning performance. speaking of performances, you have a gift for dance. before you pull of a big twirl, sometimes you jet your arms out to one side to wind up and better propel the whirling spin. it works. you also came with the internal skill of spotting, a dancer's technique when spinning to focus on a spot while completing multiple turns so you don't fall down. ok sometimes you fall down, but rarely. someone once asked me at a play date shortly after you turned 3 where you took dance. i said you were self-taught. and you are! we did get you to your first dance lessons during the summer. now we have added ballet shoes, leotards, and tap shoes to the dress-up repertoire. this year you had a big move to a big bed in a new room. you were excited but you also asked about C a lot. and you always ask about C a lot. you melt my heart with how much you love your brother. wherever we go where there is a sample of some sort to be had, you always ask for one for your brother. a balloon at the grocery store. a sticker at the doctor's office. a piece of bread at whole food's. you're always thinking of him. and recently you said you love him because he does sweet things for you. and he can say the same of you. i also watch your empathy and care for others who are upset. you pay special attention and want to know why someone is hurting and that they will be okay. at your first trip to the dentist's office this year, there was a little girl next to you who was very upset and scared. you hopped right out of your seat and brought her your new dora toothbrush the dentist gave you. sweetest.this year we lost our beloved friend the nap. i knew it would go. people have long warned me it will come to an end and long cursed me that it lasted so long. when you're that special combination of super-tired and super-amped and trying to do anything but sleep, you go into a kind of delirious babble with a thousand different thoughts and words and motions and most people would not understand. but i do. and i love it. for a second. and then i realize you have been babbling/moving for more time than you would have actually slept and i call it. not happening. but then there's the occasional slip. our little lovey the nap comes back. maybe a time or two each month. but it's different now. there's no more "sleep tight," close door, two sleeping kiddos for two hours. there's no more sing R to sleep, now sing C to sleep, close door ever so carefully, two sleeping kiddos for one and a half hours. now there's hang out with, read, maybe sleep now?, sing, maybe now?, ok you can lay on my shoulder. day i found myself saying "my neck really hurts. she slept on my shoulder for her who[...]

on why we will never live in the land of nod. sigh.


you've heard of the land of nod, right? imagine if pottery barn and williams-sonoma mated into little baby neat and tidy gingham chairs. matching adorable alphabet rugs. squeaky clean and organized kid shelves with books in alphabetical order. transitioning seamlessly from robots and outer space to butterflies and peonies. sigh. sighsighsigh. curses. i hate you land of nod. hate. you. but i really love your organization in your fantasy world of make believe. where there are no children. actually there are no adults either. who are you kidding? no one can keep a room that neat. just enough adults and stagers to produce a picture beyond perfect fake playroom where it looks like mr. clean magic erased from top to bottom in one fell swoop. but i can't get over it.i have the "rainbow connection" track running in my head (kermit's version. obvi.) while i imagine a land where all the baby doll supplies stay in the baby doll supplies area (p.s. why am i not done with diapers? i'm still diapering. dolls.). all the trucks and machines stay parked on the trucks and machines shelves. it's always a tea party. never missing a spoon or saucer. (and said missing spoon or saucer never ends up in, let's say, mommy's laundry in mommy's closet. random.). a land where train tracks are for enabling trains t0 happily choo-choo along their way. never taken apart. over. and over. and over. so that mommy has to further herniate her disc (L4/L5, not that you wanted to know) spending hours hunched over to produce the most perfect train track configuration. ever. a land where art supplies are at the ready at all times. non-washables abound! spray paint! sharpie markers! and never a stray mark to be found on a table. or a wall. or a white linen curtain, for example. (my fault for doing white, right?).enter hypocrisy. i don't want those kids in the land of nod catalog. fake little robot kids. who put their stuff away immediately after using it. "i think i am done with the yellow dump truck for the moment. let me return the yellow dump truck immediately to it's yellow dump truck space in the truck parking garage i call shelves. thank you dump truck. it was a fun 30 seconds. i'll take you out for a run again, but only after i attempt to build something with my tools and then return all tools to my neatly organized workbench." really. reeeeeally. come on. i want three-year-olds. footloose and fancifull, fancifree three-year-olds. because really, they can get away with this s now. i am now envisioning a blog post in 2022 when i'm complaining about sweaty sweat socks that are found trickled all over the floor in various rooms of our house and half-eaten hot dogs found stuffed in the cushions of the couch. please here's to you, land of nod. i am currently living in the land of no. and i am trying to embrace it. (however, if you would like to compensate me for saying your name 6 times on my blog, a blog that coincidentally is read by 6 people, i won't turn it down. it should be, though, for at least $36,832 [roughly] since that's how much it would cost to turn my land of no into the land of nod [7!]).. my land of nod. (took 20 minutes to complete).my land of no. (took 20 seconds to complete). [...]

i only have brain space for four thoughts. awesome.


random thoughts of the moment:

1. last night at a movie a stranger thought i was part of a group of high school girls. i was flattered that he thought i looked so young. or. OR. what if he thought i was their mom?

2. a slip n' slide is not nearly as fun when you have boobs. just FYI.

3. go away flatty flat sandals of the season. particularly the ones full of beads and/or bling. i am 5'2". after years and years (and years except for my recent hiatus from stilettos for the safety of the two babies i was likely carrying/pushing/shuffling) and flat shoes are less comfortable to me than stilettos. for real.

4. i am on a quest to find the following items:

a. i really want harem pants. don't judge. i don't want mc hammer harem pants. but i DO want the ones that are tight with the big pockets. those are cute. no silk. no jewel tones. you can't touch this.

b. good exfoliator that does not rank at an 8 (out of 10) on the toxic list. (if you do not know about this, you must.

c. karaoke set list so i can begin preparing for a one-night only appearance in NYC. tickets are going fast.

d. robert downey, jr. you know. just in case someone on the interwebs has a connection. hey, you never know.

don't just talk amongst yourselves (or to yourself) here people. please share.
hate you
love you

and now i am my mother


clue #1:you know. there have been plenty of days that i return home after attempting to leave my neighborhood because i have a not-fleeting feeling i left the garage door open (it was closed). but what if it was open? what if then the door from the garage to the house opened and my dog escaped and he's not street smart because he's a maniac and not allowed on a leash and so he ran right smack in between two headlights of an oncoming car because he thought he smelled peanut butter? what IF? that could happen. but it didn't. or one time my fear was rationalized because i came home after several hours when i had left the straightening iron on. ON. OMG it no fire. no burns. but justified my somewhat frequent returns to the scenes of the not crimes. just to make sure. this does not make me my mother. but i have been told more than a few times to unplug EVERYTHING. and not to put wooden spoons in dishwashers. and i still cannot walk over those holes in the street with metal fence-like barricades over them. what are those exactly? regardless. what do i think i'm going to fall in there? i would have to pry my tiptoes down in there. pretty sure my entire body is not going to fit. or is it going to break? it's not aluminum foil. am i maximum capacity? now i am sure i'm going to pass this worry wartness onto my offspring. hello. their feet COULD actually fit in there. and maybe their whole leg. now i maneuvered a little C leg out of the crib rails once or twice. but a gutter? not interested in that rescue mission. and not saving it for the wonder pets. we'll just walk around.clue #2:why am i lecturing the friendly gymboree employee about why toddler girls' skirts are made SO SO SHORT and why can't someone just make some moderately short skirts that have shorts attached? why? WHY? especially when i am purchasing a gymboree skirt at that exact moment that does in fact have shorts attached. not this lady's problem. leave her alone. but seriously. first of all, let's put some length in the skirts and/or shorts. i don't care if it's hot. 2 more inches is not going to up the already too hotness. it's not possible to up the already too hotness unless the extra 2 inches are made of fleece. second of all, even if it's moderately short, let's throw some little shorts under there. i'm not talking about a skort. no. no. no. NO. i don't want the mullets of clothing on my child. i just want her bootie covered. is that too much to ask? i know it's a little tiny bootie and i know it's cute. but it's not for public viewing. there's a reason dora doesn't make it to any shirts. only suitable for undies. maybe pj's. all of a sudden i'm remembering my first fight with my bff, holliday, when we were in 4th grade and made our classmates pick their first teams. you know, you're on team holliday or team betty. choose. choose if you think it was ok for someone to tell a little girl that she shouldn't be flipping over the monkey bars showing everyone her business in her short skirt and hello kitty undies (team betty) or if you think it's fine for a 6-year-old to dangle while onlookers laugh and point and mock (team holliday). if i had to choose a team today, i don't know what i'd do. except. except i'd suggest to the girl's mother that she put some damn shorts under the skirt so she can act like a little 6-year-old nadia comaneci wannabe and uneven monkey bars her little heart out. because that's what my mama told me. i would have been in shorts. and now my R will be in shorts under her skirts. thankyouverymuch.clue #3:what preschool in their right mind would have painting at preschool, done by preschoolers, with NOT washable paint. i'm sorry, that's NOT washable BLACK paint. that makes sense right? oh. no smocks either. nope. just go for it! i have encountered many an art stain by the washable paints. me and my oxyclean. we've tackled some trickiness. but non-washable paint. really? and how was i to know? i didn't see it coming. i let her wear her new favor[...]

i am not the next american idol


holy hell i haven't posted on here since the end of january and i just checked my google analytics and like 3 people have been checking this blog at least once a year and i had like 2 unmoderated comments and i am a blogger. fail.with no good reason because i'm still holding on to those beloved naps. i could blog during naps right? wait a second. don't even think about jinxing this one, universe. you cannot take the naps away. you. can. not. period. double period. i really mean it. so what if i have to sing my pre-schoolers to sleep every single day? so what if it sometimes takes THIRTY minutes? so what? so what. i get at least an hour of peace and quiet and aloneness. and you know what? i'm not a particularly talented singer so when else will i have the stage and have requests thrown at my feet. true story. somewhat recently R heard cat power on the radio and asked "Is that mommy singing?" i sound nothing like cat power. nothing. i couldn't even sneeze like cat power. but. but someone (two someones) wants to hear me sing. and someone (two someones) want me to hang out with them until they are asleep. and that someone (two someones) soon enough is going to think i am categorically destroying their cool. or their game. or their fun. or their something else that children think their parents destroy for them. and so i'm hanging on. i'm enjoying my 10 maybe 25 minutes of auditioning for fake ellen degeneres', making the wrong song choices of "goodnight sweetheart" (didn't bring anything new to it) and "you've got a friend" (didn't engage the audience).so i've also been planning an overprogrammed summer since we will not have school. omg we won't have school. and i do mean we. because we all benefit from school. first of all C and R are in big time LOVE with school. i mean big. i mean they don't want to leave. today i bribed them out of school with fruit snacks. mom of the year. but it was the first truly successful, seamless departure from school EVER. so cost-benefit analysis is win. i keep telling myself this is a good problem to have. lots of kids hate school. they cry when parents drop them off. who wants to leave a crying, sappy sad puddle of mush, crying "moommmmyyyyy! please don't le-eave me-eee." i know because i had a few of those (one or two or twenty) in the early days. but hey, it's great when they're all "why can't we go to school every single day? it's more fun at school. school is more fun than home. school is more fun than you. school is better than you. we hate you." those aren't direct quotes but i'm pretty sure that's what they said. and that's why they run away from me when i go to pick them up. and sometimes there are tears (happened this week). and sometimes there are parking booties down on the asphault in the school parking lot (happened this week. different kid. not the crying kid.). so, hey a whole summer of no school. should be delightful! so i'm intentionally overprogramming them. hey, apple doesn't fall far. they'll be able to keep up. they'll get color-coded planners. correction: they'll design and craft and utilize color-coded planners. or they'll just run amok and be so happy they're not stuck in the clink. i mean our house. because you know it is only nice outside for 2 weeks where we live. and we're on week two right now. so we have to seize the opportunity for outdoor fun before the sun's scorchy rays seize and singe and make us slather sunscreen so we can walk to the mailbox to get the mail. cross fingers. please be something good. make it worth the sunscreen and heat. maybe anthropologie catalog? or dsw reward? or a nice bottle of pinot noir?please, universe dear universe, let us keep our sacred naps through the summer. if not for me. for my people. my fans. p.s. will this fit in my mailbox?[...]

round here


we always stand up straightwell, maybe not "we" as in people. but definitely "we" as in our belongings. this is how things show up in our house. yes, someone has an affinity for order. and i don't just mean me. makes me feel warm inside though. no snuggie necessary.of course, also round here we talk just like lions (or monsters. roar.). ohmygosh. maybe we are a counting crows song. thank everything we don't stay up very, very, very, very late. wait. a. second.ok i'm back.i had to check out some more counting crows lyrics. scratch that. ever paid attention to counting crows lyrics? depressing. not childlike footloose fancy free at all. at. all. more like i'm alone. i've been laying on the floor. i love someone who left me. i'm depressed. i'm trying to get sober. blah blah blah. this is not what we are about. at all. and don't go thinking mrs. potter's lullaby is any better. or anything lullaby. crying, sorrow, rejection. nothankyou. this makes tori amos seem cheerful. anyhoot, it is pretty entertaining to enter a room and see that the order fairy has paid a visit. that's the yin. here's the yang:shoetastrophe. clearly the catastrophe fairy has paid a visit. ok i'm not over this counting crows thing. i know. so 90's. but how did i not know that every song was deeeeepressing. seriously. i challenge you, dear reader to come up with a happy counting crows song. or line of a song. it's hard. and i must now drown myself in carebears and "these are days" by 10,000 maniacs to make myself feel better. OMG i said drown myself! see? see?! depressing. what am i talking about? i'll play candyland too. that will help. candyland. carebears. happy music. and i'll organize something.enter smiley emoticon here.[...]

barium is the new lead


so melissa and doug has become my go-to. when the lead paint freakout of 2008 started and every plastic everything started getting recalled, i went wooden. even though wood still gets painted. with paint with lead in it. bygones. plus i like the way wooden toys look. i came across a recall notice in canada for a melissa and doug toy we have. stackable train. i called the number. here is my best recollection of the conversation that followed.let's call her "melissa."melissa: melissa and doug greeting blahdity blah blahme: hi. i'm calling about a recall notice on the stackable train.melissa: oh. that is like a year well my kids have been playing with it for the last year and i just found out about the recall.melissa: what's the blahdity blah blah number.melissa: well your train was not in the bad batch. so it's well what was wrong with the other ones? something toxic in the paint?melissa: barium. it's totally fine. they actually give it to people [me thinking: um yeah. if your going to get an xray. not if you're going to a playdate]. and your kid would have to eat 45 trains in order for it to be a ok. well that's a lot of trains to eat.melissa: yeah. so i would say, you know, if you're kid is hungry, try a thinking: not a melissa and doug cookie. those will help you in an xray situation but otherwise will kill actually: nervous laugh. end scene.this is not normal. this is not a normal interaction. right? what do i do? ban melissa and doug toys from my home? they're kind of taking over the joint. what's worse? the barium paint or the customer snarkice? p.s. customer snarkice is the new buzz phrase. feel free to use it but make sure you cite me.bring your train![...]

aw freak out


not fabulous. not fierce.
this is what freaked me out today.
i know. it's sweet. someone tucked him in. IN MY BED. unbeknownst to me.
freaked. me. out.
and in case you were singing...
aw, freak out
le freak, c'est chic
freak out
le freak, c'est chic
here i am, gonna stand my ground
nothin' in the world's gonna bring me down
hear me yell and hear me roar
i am somethin' that you can't ignore
i am here for all of us
i am fierce and we're all fabulous
freak out
so fabulous, so fierce
freak out
so beautiful, so freaky
freak out
so fabulous
so fabulous, so fierce
freak out
so beautiful, so freaky
freak out
le freak, c'est chic

they stayed in their seats


in the movie theater for curious george.
will they stay in their seats in the theater for the nutcracker?
R: "can i wear my tutu?"
me: "yes, of course."
R: "and i can dance?"
me: "well, the ballet dancers will dance. and we will all watch."
R: "and i can dance?"
me: "um. they will be on stage. and we will be sitting in our seats. on our booties. watching them."
R: "and i can wear my tutu?"
me: "yes"
R: "and i can dance?"
me: "you can watch them dance, learn the moves, and then dance when we get home."
R: "but i already have moves."


three. is the magic number.


dear r, today you are three. three years old! three! years! old! for the last three months you have been asking me pretty regularly "today is my birthday?" "it's my birthday today?" is your birthday! it's your birthday today! you love birthdays. and not just your own. sometimes it's your baby stella's birthday (recently renamed baby ivy). sometimes it's mommy's birthday. sometimes it's baby elmo's birthday. and there's always cake involved. and usually candles. this year i have fallen more in love with you, my baby. and you have fallen more in love with your babies. you have a lot of babies. you take such good care of them. and one of your favorite all time things are real live babies. which our friends have been gracious to share with you. and you are a very good mama. you push your dolls in the stroller. you take them to "the park." you rock them. you feed them. you change their diapers. you read books to them. you sing to them. repeat. you put them down for naps. you even put me down for a nap a time or two. you dress them too. but you also love to dress yourself. it started with dress up. shoes, tutus, hats, beads, singlasses. every accessory possible. and then you started really having opinions about your own clothes. so in the mornings you will tell me what color you want to wear. or what outfit you want to wear. sometimes you really have a strong opinion. of what you. must. wear. you really know what you want. and you really know how to get it. you make things happen. and then you tell everyone about it. in great detail. you had a way with words early on. people are often amazed by your vocabulary and how well you speak. what really amazes me is when you use words like "actually" and "in fact" in sentences. correctly. when you were about two and a half you almost knocked me over when you put your hand gently on my shoulder, looked into my eyes, and said "sweetie. it's ok." "well the thing is" is how you start many sentences. and you also thanked God for delivering your papa's birthday card. to florida. you are also very good at speaking spanish. and let me not forget the singing. oh the singing. i have never heard a more touching rendition of "this little light of mine" than yours. it brings joy to my heart and a smile to my face every time i hear you singing. and that's often. because not a day goes by that you don't burst into song. in fact, you kind of sing more than you talk. and shortly after your second birthday you busted out full choruses of songs. some of your favorites include indigo girls, stevie wonder, james taylor, and sha na na. sorry about that last one. your memory astounds me. you are still talking about the day at baby yoga when you were one and a half (exactly one and a half years ago) that a block fell on a baby and the baby got hurt. sometimes months will go by and we're on our normal errand to the grocery store, close to yoga, and you repeat the story. you really remember. especially people. you love to talk about people. names. kids. mommies. where they live. you could go on and on. but your favorite person is C. you always want to know what he is doing. where he is. sometimes you want to stand by his seat and feed him his food or give him his drink. or put on his shoes. you want to take care of him. the other day you and i went out to exchange one of your birthday gifts you received that you already had. you chose a cool new book. for C. you are a very good sister. plus you are lots of fun. you are a total firecracker. you can dance like nobody's business. and you have the best expressions. of. all. time. you are so animated. you have these beautiful daddy blue eyes. but i think you must actually have a light switch too because they can sparkle up a room. this year you got your first official haircut. you hair has gotten so long. it ha[...]

excuse me


for not blogging lately but i've been separating white smarties out of individual smarties packages. and let me tell you, in case you were wondering: there may or may not be even one freaking white smartie in each little pack. unroll unroll unroll. unroll unroll unroll. one white smartie. thank you very much. 73 packages later (which equals exactly 60 white cookie monster eye whites)...voila! this obsessive compulsive thing does pay off every now and then.
cookie decorating by approximately 15 in the under 3 crowd. booming success. of. course. we chased halloween with steady flow of sugar. cookies. sugar. cupcakes. and bright blue icing. but look how cute! hopefully my kids are not being ostracized as all their friends' parents demand break ups. i sent everyone home with cookie monster toothbrushes though! can you tell i was raised on italian catholic guilt?
why do i feel like they're looking at me?

twit or tweet


i feel like more of a twitterer (tweeter?) than a blogger these days. because i think in single sentence structures. facebook status updates. rhetorical questions.

yesterday C barged into my room when i had just gotten out of the shower.
he said "whoa. those are big. they're all grown up!"

that is all.

things i love right this second


kid art. washable paint on canvas. c. 2009.does it ever get old? i think i'll love it forever.ok. this is a women's shirt that i stitched up in the back and voila! perfect dress for perfect r. i tried to talk through it with the salesperson who so wasn't with me. but look! i love it! for her. not me. um this one is a joke. i do not love this. but if i did want to freeze my children and have exact replicas that would last forever. well, here they are. bet they don't wake anyone up at 5 am for potty breaks (but some dolls do. weird). speaking of freaky. i do not love rachel zoe the person. i love rachel zoe the cartoon character (and why is she so wrinkly everywhere but look at that forehead. someone snorts cocaine off of that forehead, it's so sleek [ie botoxed]). i also love rachel zoe as a second language. bananas. die. beyond. litrally. and my recent favorite "i would eat those shoes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner." (don't pretend you know what eating is like, rachel zoe. hello.) my kids' lunchboxes. i want to kiss them on their little mouths (slug, mouth with braces) everyday i make their lunches. they picked out the stickers to put on the front. one container. little compartments. all in the dishwasher at the end of a hard day. done and done. and you're welcome, environment. nothing disposable to pitch. hearts and rainbows. i feel like a care bear. the. cutest. food. of. all. time. i mean, it should win an award. for the cutest food of all time. and it was delicious. afternoon tea at the encore (via a pool cabana. happiness.) in las vegas. look at those tiny delights! and they were tasty too. and not in a tiny way, either. scrumptious. who doesn't love tim gunn? really. this photo must have captured one of his "conundrums." and what i really love right this second about him is when he recently told someone their garment had the potential to be a "hot mess." we have his and hers nail polish in our household. and i love it.[...]

but at least we already have halloween costumes


omg. i've been down and out. over and out. out and over. down for the count. broken down. broken. times are tough when you're kids are all of a sudden 13 overnight. no more baby swings. check. no more diapers. check. check. no more cribs. check. check. check. i should let them out of their highchairs too but hello when will i empty the dishwasher? i'm not ready to have free-range chickens. oh no. this crib to bed transition is all that i dreamt it would be. and more. in a very bad nightmare. and it's exactly what everyone i know who took twins from cribs to beds told me it would be. a nightmare. when i say nightmare, it implies slumber of some sort. au contraire mon frere. i haven't been sleeping. it's worse than when i was breastfeeding 3 week olds. well maybe not that bad but i'm living in the moment here and it feels bad. they have already come so far. they are still napping most of the time. hallelujah. but you just never know. and that's the hard part. coupled with the obvious hard part of waking up at 5 am. that's 5 am central time. or whatever time zone you're in. imagine 5 am. it's dark. it's nighttime in my book. no one needs to be awake. but they pop up at 5 am. turn on the light. it's a party. or they have to go potty. potty i can accommodate (and even find the positive and be grateful for that) but a party. i cannot accommodate. i will not accommodate! i go in. everyone back in beds. lights off. "but i can't see." oh really? there's a reason you can't see. because you don't have to see. you have to sleep. it's dark. for. a. reason. several reasons in anyway. i'm tired. so tired that i cannot string together a complete thought process. even for a blog that 7 people read. i know you read it. thank you 7 readers! and i'm so sorry i've neglected you!because i cannot string together meaningful anything right now (as though i ever have), i will leave you with this question (please i need all 7 of you to weigh in on this one):if she loves loves this brand new halloween costume so so much on october 5, 2009 (wore it to eat two meals and getting it off for bedtime was a grand task), i ask you: what are the chances she will still love love it so so much on october 31, 2009?i'm getting a different one, aren't i? [...]

sometimes "shh" doesn't work. just fyi.


you know how there is always that one kid. running recklessly through the aisles at top speed. screeching (note: screeching, not screaming. screeching. there's a difference.), arms flailing. screeching peppered with bouts of gleeful laughter. today there were two of them. at. the. library. on a non-story time-so-normal-adult-people-are-here-so they can, you know, read-day. um, did you guess? and. they. were. mine. we might not be allowed back. and the hell to the no broke loose while i was checking out books. so i'm on record. they know what we did this summer. i utilized eloquent parenting tactics, such as time-out, once we got safely outside. ahem. "safely" because i finally caught the little buggers and stopped them from running directly under moving vehicular tires in the parking lot. really they were just going to run right to a moving car to see if they could fit their little bodies under there. i just know it. and seriously. who drives a hummer anymore? save the environment, people. drive a suburban. and why are you even at the library, mr. hummer (you know it's a dude)? buy the damn book. probably some bratty less than zero teenager that parked there so he didn't have to walk so far to the high school. which he was late for. because he is too cool (and too high. ahem.) to get to school on time. helloooooo digress. once time-out is over (why did i ever let them get off that bench once i had them sitting there? why? WHY?!) they immediately pick up right where they left off. running amok. A.M.O.K. effective. pull. grab. "james spader is about to run your asses over." they're not listening. but i'm listening. that sounds like...rain. it hasn't freaking rained in 4 months. but it's raining now. dear father in heaven let me get these kids safely to the car where it's dry and safe. so i can lock them into seats. click. click. click. aaaaaamen.
photo copyright my local library

mom of the year


i have had some moments when i have felt like mom of the year. toot toot goes my own horn. ok, well, at least mom of the moment. the moments when my children are happily consuming a dinner of salmon and brussel sprouts. the moments when my children say "thank you" and "please" to others, unprompted. but today. oh today. today at toddler yoga while other little toddler yogis gracefully placed one block under their little bodies to establish that perfect virasana pose, my little toddler cried because he needed more than one block to build his building (obvi). today at toddler yoga when the teacher asked the class what kind of music do you like? and one little toddler yogi said "merengue" and another little toddler yogi said "mozart," my little toddler shouted "dora!" and today at toddler yoga when the teacher asked what we should plant in our garden, one little toddler yogi said "carrots" and another little toddler yogi said "peas" and my little toddler shouted "cookies!" and today at toddler yoga, after receiving a parting gift of a single piece of chocolate, my little toddler dropped (accidentally, i'm almost positive) one single piece of chocolate into the toilet. and i flushed. thank shavasana it flushed. so today at toddler yoga my kids cried, shouted out curses like dora! and cookies! and sent chocolate into the toilet. mom of the year. at least the moment. i have failed to mention the moment that the teacher asked the little toddler yogis if anyone wanted to give anyone else a hug. my two. only ones to stand up, embraced. r said "that's my brother." so really, everything else i wrote about doesn't matter. but it still happened. but hello, i had my moment.
when you look up mom of the year, this is what you find. and it somehow makes me feel better. but i guess her kids are older. so i've still got time.

fashion forward


ahhhh, it's a brisk 103 degrees as i type this, the wind camly blowing fresh, light 103 degree disgustingness. and yet, people tell us, fall is upon us. you know i love fall. fake fall. with the onset of fake fall comes the onset of shopping. i get the fever with the change of fake seasons. i can't help it. so the sales hit, the new fake fall season of clothes is here. so i thought i'd throw some eye-candy your way. you. are. welcome. here are some items i'm loving FOR MY TODDLER? um. no. FOR ME. but these precious pretties are, in fact, wait for it. for toddlers. i know. it's a sickness. i would totally wear these (even if i shouldn't wear these). I should get to wear these. (like i need more what department should i really be shopping in confusion). but no. they're toddler gear. allegedly. not my toddler's gear. because these items cost up to $5,493 per item. ok, only up to $180 per item but that seems like $5,493 per item to me due to the reeee-diculous factor. seriously. so if you see suri cruise toddling in one of these frocks, you can tell her you saw it here first. OMG so last season, suri[...]

update on scratchy satan


apparently satan is a coward. this may not come as a surprise to some of you, as i recall a lesson or two in my private school education stating this fact. but the toddler-sized, scratching satan from gymnastics was a no-show this week. i know you've been waiting to hear. the day after scratchfest 2009, i was going to visit the nordie's sale and blabbing to a friend about said scratchfest because clearly this has affected me more than anyone who, i don't know, was actually scratched, when who should appear? i know. satan is tricky that way. right there. in the nordstrom. being carried by her father. because let's face it. it's not safe to let that kid loose. i almost went into post traumatic stress attack. but i pulled it together. so apparently they still let her out in public. who knows if she has returned to the scene of the crime since the incident. who knows if her ass got kicked out. and that's why she has to hang out at the mall. who knows. but this i know. today at school, R and C were referred to by their teacher as "heavenly." good prevails over evil. take that.

turn the other cheek?


dear mother whom i don't know who was with your child in the waiting area of gymnastics before our class began,remember when R and C and i walked into the small waiting area at gymnastics, before our class began?remember when you asked "are they twins?" and i said "yes" and you said "oh, they're beautiful."?remember when your satan daughter proceeded to shred my "beautiful" son's "beautiful" face for no reason whatsoever, treating it as though his "beautiful" face was a scratching post and someone had just declawed her back claws with no drugs and this was her last chance to scratch so damnit she was going to scratch and claw the beautifulness until it was shredded and begging for mercy?hmm. well i remember. apparently in great detail. and you saying "sorry" while saying nothing to your 2-yr-old daughter, other than "use your words"...well, um, what words do you think she was trying to express through maniacal thrashing of another human being? "stop looking at my puzzle motherf*cker or i'll scratch your face off?" because if that was it. it still would have been better than a random act of violence. though he did cry. because he was injured. he was also confused. i have seriously never seen a child behave that way before. or a mother behave that way before. also, for your information, telling the other kids "everyone takes turns" on your way out the door, troubles me. a child should be able to, i don't know, look at something that another child is playing with, particularly when it is community property that belongs to no individual. hell, i don't care if he walked up to her and swiped the damn puzzle out of her hands and stomped on it gleefully (which he didn't). as long as he didn't bash it over her head, watching as puzzle pieces and chunks of hair and flesh plummeted to the ground. which is what i want to do to her now. and i guess technically you did warn me. remember when my son with the beautiful face walked over to your demon and you looked at me and said "she'll bite and scratch him" but as the word "bite" was coming out of your mouth, the rampage had already begun. it was like the time i took my sweet puppy to a dog park for the first time. and some dumbass with small boyparts, i might assume, brought his rot (not fixed, by the way) to co-mingle with the unsuspecting puppies who just naturally sniff things out. gus got mauled (but was fine).so, i'm thinking...mother to mother. maybe the dog park, i mean gymnastics, is not the place for your toddler of terror. maybe anywhere where there is another human (maybe animals too) in a 2-mile radius is not the place for your monster.but know this. i'm coming back next week. and i'm bringing my A game. i'll get hockey masks and mouth guards for the kids. i'll even get them shin guards, just in case. you won't be able to distract me with feeble compliments about my children's beauty or some half-assed warning about a potential and probable slaughter. oh no. i'll be ready. i'll be wearing a crucifix. and i'll lace the gymnastics' anti-bacterial gel dispenser with holy water.sincerely,prepared to do unto othersnote to readers, other than satan's mommy: C is fine. it was the first outright attack i have witnessed. there was no blood (surprisingly). in addition to being hurt physically, his feelings were hurt. he was confused. he happens to be beautiful and sensitive (and smart too. and have i ever mentioned his natural athletic and artistic talents?). and resilient. full recovery.this is how i remember her. but with horns. and fire.[...]

more firsts


hmm. what have i been up to...what have we been doing...just business as usual. not much going on. it's one thousand degrees. so we don't go out. except when we take a family trip to florida just in time for the groundbreaking hottest days in florida history. thankyouverymuch. it was a great first trip to the beach for R and C. they loved. and i loved it for two days. and then i was ready to not have to rescue sand from peoples' crevices and sweat, not just to the oldies, but all. the. time. oh and C and R went to their first movie a la movie theater! are you curious? it. was. awesome. (and it was, obvi, curious george). we came. we sat. we saw. we ate our weights in popcorn. and we made it through the entire movie! i was fully prepared for a fight and a departure and another fight b/c C would not want the departure. but it was all harmony. i even got the soundtrack to remind us of our success. oh, another first...first baseball game. and i thought our first year was our year of firsts. third year? firsts o' plenty. i ate a hot dog (for shame!). let's not talk about contents. and how i don't really eat meat. and when i randomly decide to randomly eat a meat product, i go for just the by-products. the nastiest of the nasty. and then i share it with my children. and it.was.awesome. i doused it with ketchup, mustard, and relish, so there was only a hint of hot dog flavor. um... am i talking more about a hot dog than my kids? i think so. but it was probably the beer. the beer helped. anywho. first, first, first. and they're giant people. real bonafide humans. they use words like "actually" and "although" correctly in sentences. i've been thinking this whole time that it may be easier to have two kids going through the same stages at the same time. rather than, let's say, a toddler and newborn. that sounds hard. to me. so i'm all...hey, teething at the same time! check! it's bad. and then it's done. hey, diapers at the same time! check! it's bad. and then it's done. and why am i now thinking 15 years ahead when they will both graduate from high school. at the same time. hey, childhood at the same time! check! it's happy. and then. it's. done. waitasecond. no need to stress now. but it just reminds me. even in the middle of a bad. i'm going to cling to it. even amidst cryingscreamy time, sometimes accompanied by stomping of feet, i'm going to hold on to it. because that stage will be gone with the others (please). and then it will be high school. and i'm not in a hurry. even though i'm currently thinking about halloween costumes (um, october) and birthday party (um, november). and a new iphone (um, next week) and wallpapering one wall in my dining room (um, never). and a hot dog.[...]

diapers or car?


"oh, those are the expensive ones" said a mommy at the library after she borrowed one of C and R's seventh generation diapers.
later i watched her get into her range rover.
and even later...i had a thought.
maybe if i switched to a cheaper diaper, i could get a new car.
maybe diapers are the only thing holding me back!
maybe i should have used newspaper this whole time.
apparantly these are the only people who can afford seventh generation diapers.
but this is the car i want:
really i just want to load the kids in, roll down the windows, and sing "i think i love you" really loudly.

mr. robot-o


word to the wise: don't teach your kids songs that A. you don't really know the words to, and B. contain words in another language (ie., when you find out the words you didn't know, it turns out you cannot pronounce them.) they're not in english. this is not a learning opportunity for my kids (or I) to learn a new language. that's what dora is for. how can anyone think of anything but "Mr. Roboto" when you see a robot? what else is there? the song just leaped from my lips. "do do do do do doh Mis-ter Robot-o" C and R caught onimmediately. "what's the other song?" asked C. translation: what are the words? what are the words to the song besides do do do do doh and Mister and Roboto? we got that. what else is there? mommy mental note was made. look. up. words. it should be harmless enough and if it gets raunchy i can just change the words like i did for rebel rebel by david bowie (ie., instead of "hot tramp i love you so" i simply insert a real kid's name for the "hot tramp" part. done and done. none the wiser. and before you go thinking i am crazy for introducing this song, i need you to know that the words "rebel rebel your face is a mess" also leaped from my lips one time long ago with the introduction of food. i didn't exactly plan it out. i'm sure you understand. and let us not forget how i saved the falling baby by changing the words of "rock-a-bye baby." true humanitarian.). so back to my robot-o lyrical blunder..."domo arigato, mister roboto." thankyouverymuch. literally. it means thank you. in japanese. maybe this is a learning opportunity for my kids (and me)! except. they didn't stop there. damn that styx. as if cursing our world with songs like "lady" and "come sail away" wasn't bad enough. "domo arigatou o-hima dedomo arigatou himitsu wo shiritai domo arigatou." um...shittake. what am i supposed to do with that? i just got domo arigato down. now this? apparently when mr. robot-o has time, styx would like to know what his secret is. (loose translation. by me.). and then it occurred to me. OMG WHYHAVEISPENTTHISAMOUNTOFTIMEONSTYXLYRICS? seriously. cultural enrichment aside. so here we are. i will choose my songs more carefully. i will make sure i know the lyrics. i will try to keep lyrics from leaping. i will try. suddenly i am thinking that R and C probably think i also don't know the words to that police song i keep singing to them. "da do do do da da da da." no really. that's it. i found mr. robot-o like this in the dining room. apparently he needed a diaper change. domo arigato.[...]

parting is such sweet sorrow


or is it? i used to have to hide from my kids when i was, say, in the kitchen and they were in the living room. they couldn't see me. or the MAAAMAAAAHHHH (while standing behind bars, ie. gate, with their little fingers clenched). would ensue. it. was. torture. for all of us. and sometimes when i leave, even now, there are tears. and sadness. it makes me feel terrible. like i'm abandoning them. even though we just spent the last 11 hours together for the day, i am now abandoning them. um, with. their. father. i'm pretty sure they're ok. and i'll be back! i promise! i always come back! don't they understand?! it's sadness. and then, sometimes, it's not. and i'm all "what the H?" R just said "big hug" and C just said "bye mommy!" a little too enthusiastically. don't they love me? won't they miss me? why are they not crying and blubbering that i am leaving? hello i'm abandoning you! be sad! cry! show a little emotion!
bipolar, much? (me, not them. they appear to be chemically centered, barring the occasional 2.5 year-old-melt).
i don't think it's long before R packs my bag for me and scoots me out the door. thanks for playing. unless i just jinxed myself and from here on after there will be epic meltdowns and i won't be able to leave the house ever at which point i'll post another blog entry about how i am a prisoner in my own house. i mentioned bipolar didn't i?
p.s. if someone is going to pack my bag, can this be it?

dressobsessed update


well after trying on a kagillion dresses, i was starting to lose my obsession. quickly. but i'm reporting back with my purchase. i'm excited to tell you that i will be wearing the same dress (well, same-not exactly the same-mine is new) worn by kim cattrell on oprah this year (though if i did have her dress, ebay would be profitable post party). i tell you this not to dress namedrop, but because this is as close to samantha as i will ever be. and i like the dress. thank you neiman marcus last call for not making my CPW (cost per wear) ridiculous. and i found a babysitter! (and i still get to drink lots of wine).
dress success



with the new found fun of constant questions and constant repeats and well, just constant talking in general, we were bound to run into some inappropriateness right? right?! i'm sure it's fine. it was a kid-friendly church service after all. we're strangely quiet for a moment. actually the whole church is strangely quiet for a moment. uh oh. "EASTER BUNNY!" "Where is the Easter Bunny?!" "See him." "I want to see him."
it's not like we don't talk about Jesus. you couldn't yell out a little "Jesus" on a day like today? you picked the easter bunny? um, we're kind of at church. not the egg hunt. that's what i get for bribing you to stay in your seats with fruit snacks (compliments of the easter bunny, ironically. see how i do this to myself?). i think they still think Jesus is a baby (since Christmas). i tried to explain that the picture they saw of Jesus today was of grown-up Jesus. but. it's a process. C thought the grown up Jesus was "Jesus' daddy" (still thinking of the nativity, i would imagine). thank everything (well, God, in particular) that we all got to sing "Jesus Loves Me" (fan favorite). then R brought us all home with some huge and critically timed AMEN's. sounds like AHHHH MEN. with a nod.
oh. you know i totally watched this show back in the day.