Pomp and Circumstance

I am so proud of my sister-in-law! She graduated last weekend with her Child Care Certificate and is now back in school already going after her elementary education degree. Honestly, I'm a little jealous... some day I'll finish school... ;)

Oh, as a bonus, here is a picture of me and hubby relaxing before her grad ceremony...

Pencils Down!

Straight from the mouth of babes:

"The Sun is not a star because it's a circle!"

If only I had Isabella's astute reasoning abilities...

...

Wake Me Up When September Ends

It’s been a busy month in the Working Mom’s household. So here is an extra long post to fill you in on the yearly tradition we call the First Day of School.

First days of school are always milestones – signs that the world keeps marching on, and I have to move along with it before I get left behind. I remember when I was a kid, I could never sleep the night before the first day. So the next day I would get up out of bed tired and overly excited. I always ended up coming home with a migraine from lack of sleep, newness, and my brains total inability to deal with stress of change and information, even at my young age.

Now, here I am, 20 years and more later, preparing my three girls for their first days of school. Both twins went to preschool last year; they were at different schools in different programs, on different days. They both went for 2 and a half hours twice a week – so it was minimal upheaval in their heavily scheduled lives. But this year, they are in pre-K, a.k.a. 4-year-old Kindergarten. They still go just twice a week, however, their short 2.5 hour days have turned into long, full, 7-hour days. It seems like such a big step. And the girls were so excited to be going back to school.

Belle returned to her same school. Gabby made the transition to Belle’s school – the Catholic school in town. Belle was excited to see her friends from last year, and Gabby seemed to already accept them as her friends, even before she met them, after listening to Belle talk about them incessantly all summer. And me, well, I am always excited to see my girls take on a new chapter of their lives – and I am enjoying the huge cut in their hours at daycare.

In addition, Deborah started preschool at the same school. She had the first crack at school on Tuesday. Lucky me, the girl got placed in the afternoon class – right over nap time. And if there is a kid who relies on her naps, it’s Deborah. She welcomes it each day, and now I was forcing her to cut it out twice a week. What the hell am I thinking??? She did fantastic her first day, and I managed to leave her there with no major breakdowns on her part, and I smiled as I left, knowing that she would do great in school. My kid’s a freakin’ genious, so I have no worried, right? Riiiiiiight. I picked her up that afternoon, and she was happy and chipper. The second we got home she decided that she hated school and her teacher hit her. *sigh* Gotta love that kid. She promptly fell asleep on the pillow on the floor.

Belle and Gabby were both supposed to start last Wednesday. Lo and behold, both girls came down with fevers and general icky feelings on Tuesday afternoon. By morning, Gabby was all better, but Belle was worse. So, Gabby started school all on her own, with no twin sister for support. She was excited and not even phased that Belle wasn’t there. Belle, of course, was devastated, but once the puking began, I don’t think she cared any more.

When I went to pick Gabriella up at the end of her first day, I walked into the classroom and was greeted by a sweaty, sticky 4-year-old, who looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. I walked in and she ran to me and started crying. She was overheated and SO incredibly tired. I knew that it was going to be tough to handle the first few long days, especially since they usually nap after lunch for an hour or two, but I didn’t figure it would be that bad. I thought my kid was going to pass out. I got her home, and she fell asleep on the couch for the afternoon, while Belle, who was still feverish, vegged out in my bed watching cartoons. Deborah, free of her older sisters’ wrath, played quietly by herself for almost 3 hours. I had to wake the twins for dinner. It was a blissfully quiet afternoon, but I knew it couldn’t always be like that. And boy, is it true.

Deborah was due to go again on Thursday afternoon. Due to a transportation snafu (read: ride didn’t come through and hubby and I both work an hour away) she missed Thursday’s class. I called her in to school as sick. Who would question it since her sister was sick the previous day?? Anyway, the poor kid missed out on coloring a picture of her grandparents for Grandparent’s Day. All of the other kids in class have one hanging in the hallway… not Deborah.

Belle finally went to class on Monday, with Gabriella towing along. Their day went fine, and Gabby was infinitely happier when I picked them up that day. But when we got home, all hell broke loose. I listened to fits, crying and fighting for 2 solid hours straight before I convinced them to sit on the couch to watch cartoons for a few minutes. 1.39 minutes later, both were OUT cold. Once again, Deborah played quietly by herself while I cooked dinner. I’m not sure I can handle this kind of schedule with them for long. I hope they adjust soon.

Deborah went to school again on Tuesday. What a nightmare dropping her off was. She sobbed and screamed for me not to leave her. The twins were so much easier at this age. I’m not sure why she’s so different… she’s just such a completely different entity than either of the twins…

Anyway, on to the point of this whole post. Today I finally had everything arranged so that thee twins could ride the bus to their school. That way, I could actually get to work at a decent hour, and the babysitter could pick them up at the bus in the afternoon, and I could get more then 5 hours in a day. Of course, being an important day to wake up early, I over-slept. I was having a dream about my alarm clock reading, in military time, 00:45. Hell, as far as I saw, I still had 5 hours to sleep!! Um, yeah, reality was that it was time to get my rear end out of bed, and quick. Typical me. So, I woke up at 6:50 and the girls woke right after me. In the space of 45 minutes, I managed to get every single morning chore done, the girls dressed and presentable, backpacks loaded and checked, fish and dogs in the house and fed. I tried to make sure I was also presentable, and I just barely passed.

We drove quickly down to the high school where all of the busses leave from. After running with the girls to three different busses (I wasn’t actually sure what time it was, or what time the busses left, let alone which bus my kids were supposed to get on since different busses go to 4 different schools), we finally arrived in the right line. After seeing that all of the other little ones had older kids who were in charge of them (bus buddies!), I talked to a 5th grade girl, who knew my kids, and handed them off to her to watch on the bus.


They got on with their 5th grade bus buddy and never even looked back. Deborah sobbed into my shoulder because she wanted to go on the bus with her big sisters, and I cried into her hair because my babies are growing up without my consent.

Funny how after all of these milestones over the last few days, the one that gets me is watching my twins board a big, long, yellow bus and wave at me from the window, grins lighting up their faces.

*sigh*

PostSecret

I've been a reader and fan of the PostSecret project for a little over a year, now. And now, Frank, the author of the site, has put together a mini-movie. If you're not a regular fan of the site already, this movie will make you want to be. Do yourself a favor, and watch this:



PostSecret Website

Happy 3rd Birthday, Doobs!

At 1:05am, my baby officially turned three years old. Three years ago, she was born very quickly after a long, slow, labor. She was 6lbs 2oz and incredibly perfect. In the first few days that she was on this earth, the only noises that she made were these tiny, pitiful little squeaks. Those tiny little noises earned her the nickname "Sqeaker".




Now, my "squeaker" is quite a "Squawker". She's got a HUGE personality that packs a giant punch from her tiny little body. At just 25 pounds, Deborah weighs at 3 what Gabby weighed at a year. But she makes up for her size with her personality. And it scares me how much she is like me - I think that I could be in big trouble a little later...


The years have gone by so quickly. Yet so incredibly slow.



But on Saturday, when we took her crib down and suprised her with her big-girl bed, it struck me just how grown up she has become over the last year. She was incredibly excited, and has proven that she was ready for the responsibility of bed freedom; she has slept perfectly over the last few nights. It's as if she's biting her thumb at me and my bed paranoias, and saying, "HAH! And you DOUBTED me!" I admit, I was obviously wrong to be so worried - she's earned her bed...



And this morning, as if to announce to the world that she is now OFFICIALLY three, she woke up, got out of bed, and came downstairs by herself for the first time EVER. We have always had to go upstairs to get her - even over the last few days when she was in her new bed. But not this morning. A little symbolic, I guess.



So tonight we will be having a dinner by Deborah's request - Macaroni & Cheese and Cheeseburgers - and some birthday cupcakes. And I'll remember again the night that she entered my life with her huge, wide, newborn eyes, and her beautiful face. I'll remember the snuggling with her when we used to co-sleep, and the nights I fell asleep next to her while she breastfed. And the giggles and tears thats she shared with me over the last few years. And I'll look forward to the future - starting preschool next month, learning more about the world, and making new friends.



Here's to an amzing, perfect three years, and to the rest of your life.

In My Back Yard

I've crossed that bridge thousands of times. Thousands. It used to be part of my daily commute. On my way to Twins games and Vikings games. On my way to the hospital to deliver my babies. On my way to visit family and friends. On my way to the mall.

And today, all I can do is thank God that me, and every member of my family is accounted for this morning. You see disasters like this and you think, "wow, thank God that doesn't happen here." Only it does. Today it happened in my own back yard.


As far as I can tell, we've been lucky. Only 4 confirmed dead this morning, down from 7 last night. But there are 20-30 more missing. It could have been much worse. MUCH worse. The bridge was down to one lane, under construction for resurfacing. Had the bridge been open as it usually is, there would have been 4 lanes of stopped, rush hour traffic heading in each direction. So, instead of 8 packed lanes of cars, trucks, and buses, there were 2. Thank God for small blessings.

Hubby's best friend works as a process server. He drives 10 hours a day. He crossed that bridge just 15 minutes before it collapsed. He called us soon after we heard that it had collapsed to say that he's never going over a bridge under construction again. He said that when he was driving over it, there were large patches of the bridge missing where you could look straight down into the water. While that's freaky, the experts keep telling us that had nothing to do with the collapse. We'll see how that turns out in the end, but I'm going to have to agree with the best friend for a while - I'll contain my trips over bridges to those that are fully intact.

I'm sending out thoughts and prayers to those who died, and to those who are still missing, and to their families. And I say thank you to all of those who risked their own lives to rescue and help others. And today, I'll count those small blessings that I usually take for granted. Because when something like this strikes so close to home, it's impossible to do otherwise.

A Chapter Over

Last night when I got home after another long day at work, I went upstairs to the girls' rooms, as I usually do when I get home, to look at the sleeping. It's become a nightly ritual for me lately, as I rarely make it home from work before 10pm, and the girls are always asleep. Yesterday was a particularly hard day, made worse by the fact that my body seems to have begun to shut down from lack of sleep and good meals. By 8pm, my eyes began to blur, and my eyes went on strike and tried to close permanently. I managed to make it to 10:00, and by the time I got home at almost 11, I felt like I was suffering from a sleep hangover - only the misery was from a lack of sleep, rather than an overabundance. So, I trudged up the stairs in the dark, silent house, prepared to turn off tv's, and cover my girls with the blankets that they so often dump off the sides of their beds in their sleep. I went in to the twins' room, noticed with disgust the fact that their room had not been picked up at all, turned off the TV and DVD player which was stuck on the main menu, and stepped over the discarded toys to kiss my girls.

I bent over to pick up Gabby's sheet from the floor, covered her up, and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. Then, I went over to Belle, pulled her bedspread up over her, and kissed the back of her head. I shoved some toys to the side to make a path in case they had to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. Then, I headed to Deborah's room to watch her sleep.

I opened Deborah's door as quietly as possible, and realized that the mess was not contained to just the twins' room. I ignored it and tiptoed over to her crib. Usually she is sprawled out in her crib, all askew, with baby dolls and blankets bunched up, pushed aside, or twisted around her legs. But tonight I saw one eye open lazily, and then the other. She was half sleeping still, but noticed that I was there.

"Hi Mommy", she drawled sleepily, and reached up toward me.

"Hi Baby. Mommy just came in to see you and kiss you goodnight." I reached down to hug her and she grabbed on to me so I was forced to pick her up.

"I love you, Mommy."

"I love you, too, Sweetheart." And with that she closed her eyes, snuggled into my arms and neck even closer, and fell back asleep. I stood there and swayed back and forth, enjoying the smell of her, and the feel of her tiny, warm hands around my neck. I stood there until I felt her breathing become deep and regular, and then put her back down on the mattress. When I let go of her, she half-woke again, and grabbed her baby doll as I covered her up with her sheet and blanket.

"Goodnight, Momma."

"Goodnight, Baby. I'll see you in the morning."

And she rolled over and fell back asleep.

I know she's about to be three, and her babyhood is almost over. But I am going to absorb as much of it as I can before she becomes too big and too independent to be babied. In the meantime, I am mourning the end of a chapter in my life and in hers. I'm sorry that I've missed so much of the plot lately, while I've been away at work. One day things have got to get easier, and more settled. I hope that the next chapter is as wonderful and as sweet as this one has been, and I promise to have more appearances in it.

Birthdays, Milestones, and Motherhood Hell

So this weekend is Deborah's 3rd birthday party. She doesn't actually turn 3 until the following Tuesday, but the celebration is Saturday, of course. She is very excited about her party, and about her birthday. Me - well, I'm not so excited. I am dreading the party. The reason? The toddler bed.

As her birthday present from us, we are replacing her crib with a toddler bed. And this whole concept makes me SHUDDER. And the reason is pure selfishness. That kid goes to bed like a DREAM. I mean it - a DREAM. 8:00 rolls around, and we ask her if she's ready for bed. 99% of the time, her answer is yes. And SPONGEBOB! She must have SPONGEBOB at all costs! Thanks forever to my father-in-law who decided to buy her a TV for her bedroom for her birthday LAST year... and it's a Spongebob TV. Really. Seriously. Shaped and yellow like Spongebob. And how must she fall asleep each night? With a Spongebob DVD. LOL Or, sometimes, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, or, occasionally, Cinderella. And if we had any Dora DVDs, you can guess that she would be wired and wide-eyed with glee at 3am watching the episode of Dora repeat over and over and over again. And yes, call me a horrible mom. But she's usually out by 10 or so... sometimes 10:30. And she's never any trouble. I mean, who can beat that? The twins - well, they watch TV for bedtime, too, but that doesn't stop them from getting out of bed 50 times each night because they need water, or another movie, or hugs & kisses, or another story, or... and THAT is why I SHUDDER at the thought of the toddler bed.

I'm afraid the toddler bed is a curse in my house. I LOVE that Deborah can't get out. I LOVE that she doesn't WANT to get out of her crib. She's my bedtime angel... and she sleeps until 9am if we're quiet enough or if we don't have to get her up for daycare... and my worst fear is that she starts with the same horrible bedtime habits that the twins have.

Please, please, please. Goddess of Motherhood, Father Time, and Mr. Sandman: please don't jinx me.

We're surprising her by setting her new bed up while she is otherwise occupied at her party. So wish me luck, everyone... Saturday night could either be the end of my fear and stress, or it could be the beginning of a whole new motherhood hell...

In the meantime, join me for a toast. To birthdays. To the end of my baby's babyhood. To the beginning of the rest of her life.

Happy third birthday, Baby. Mommy loves you!

UGH, a Countdown.

So, there are many times in life that we count down to certain things. Such as counting down to the weekend. Or counting down to a wedding day, or a birth. Or a retirement. And I think that there are times in life when the countdown begins to define us.

I have begun counting down to a lot of things. And I have never in the past been much of a countdown kind of person. I like to enjoy the life that I live between important or exciting events, rather than allowing it to slip away in the form of a countdown. My last pregnancy may be an exception, but when you are in that much damn pain, I think that it's different. LOL Anyway, so I've found myself counting down to things. The end of my workday. The weekend. My next day off. The next episode of Big Love. My daughter's birthday party. A possible trip to Savannah. The end of my misery. And that last one... that's the one that worries me.

I hate being miserable. And I've been feeling it more and more, lately. I just wonder if there is a light at the end of the tunnel. For as much as I am trying to enjoy my life right now, nothing is going as planned... and I keep trying to convince myself that I will be fine in the end. But I wonder if I will be if things stay as they are. I'm not living my life the way that I want to live it. I am not the mom that I always wanted to be. I'm not doing the work I wanted to do. I'm not learning the things that I want to learn. And I'm not the wife I always thought that I could be.

So I wonder how to change it. I am already tired of counting down. All I want to to live my life with joy and with purpose. And I want to know that I am doing everything that I can to be the best everything that I can be. I want to stop feeling...trapped.

TRAPPED.

Yes, TRAPPED. That's it. There's the truth. I feel trapped in my life. And I want out.

I want my life back. And I want it all. Selfish? Yes. Necessary? I think so.

Does the Word Procrastination Mean Anything to You?

Yeah, I lied. I said I was going to start writing regularly. That was back in March. Here is it, 4 months later. No new entries. Until now.

So, what's happened since my last entry? My twins turned 4. I can't believe that I'm that much older than I was the day they were born. And hey, I guess that means that they are, too! I kind of forgot that it's important for them, too... Anyway, they had a birthday. Honestly, only 3 months later, I can't even remember their party. Which is weird because I am always excited to throw them birthday parties, and take lots of pictures, and celebrate the onset of a whole new year of their life. But with all of the work hours I have been putting in, and the lack of a camera, I can't even remember my name most days, let alone what I'm doing and who I'm with. Oh, WAIT. I remember. Well, I still don't remember much of the party, but I do remember making their F-ing cakes! I waited until midnight the night before the party to put them in the oven. Then, at around 1am, I ran to Wal-Mart to find something...ANYTHING... to top them with. Yep, there goes that procrastination thing again. I ended up buying Belle a My Little Pony figurine, and Gabby a Tinkerbell figurine, and some minitaure silk flowers. I used the toys as toppers, and used the flowers to accent. They actually turned out beautiful. Cake decorating is one of my talents - I just don't get to use it much. Which is WHY I wanted to make the girls' cakes myself... only I waited until the last minute, so it was more like hell than fun. Oh, and in my haste to get them finished and get my ass in bed, I made the buttercream frosting too milky, so it kind of sagged and ran here and there. But what the hell. They're only 4. But I digress...

This summer seems to be treating me okay. I had a few weeks off from the restaurant which gave me some much-needed R&R. I took some time off from my day job over the 4th of July, too, so I had 5 WHOLE CONSECUTIVE DAYS OFF without having to go into work of any fashion. It was fabulous. I recommend it once in a while...

My birthday came and went. Another year older. For the last time. It was the first of many 29th birthdays. I have declared that I will never turn 30. I will be 29, now, for the rest of my life. Convenient, huh?

Next up is Deborah's b-day. My baby is going to be THREE. *sob* She's not allowed to turn 3. EVER. I have procrastinated (there's that word again!) in putting her big-girl bed up... so she's still in her crib. She loves it in there, so I felt no need to hurry, but it's definately messing with her night potty training, so it's time. I just can't face that she's going to be 3. *sniffle*

So, we decided that since Doobs was getting upgraded, and since Gabby's legs have started to hang off of the side of her bed (they would hang off the end, but that darnned footboard is messing with her!! Damn the man - er - I mean, footboard!), that it was time to face the music that it's time the girls get out of their toddler beds. We have a set of bunk beds for them, but I just didn't want to go there yet. But we have to. So a friend is giving us some new twin mattresses and will be bringing them to D's b-day party in August, and that's when we'll bite the bullet and allow the twins to grow up. I guess if I have to... *stomps foot*

Oh, by the way, Belle gave me a black eye this morning. It's so VERY attractive, believe you me! I can't WAIT to go into work tonight... and let everyone see my gorgeous shiner! *eye roll* I wonder how long it takes for one of the regulars to ask me if my husband beats me. Too funny.

I suppose. Enough rambling. Suffice to say that the procrastination is over - well, as much as it can possibly be in my life - for a little while. I've got new sunshine in my life, and a new resolve. So wish me luck...

Parental Paranoia

Recently someone posted a debate on a website that I frequent regarding the paranoia of parents. If you would like to read the article, click here. Reading this article really gave me something to think about, and allowed me to examine my own parental paranoia.

I have always been very careful about making sure that my kids are under supervision at all times when they are outside. Now, granted, they are still all under the age of 4, so I think I am simply practicing good parenting. But I have always looked at those kids who roam around the neighborhood unsupervised as delinquents, and at their parents as lazy, bad parents. I have always said that my kids won't be roaming around without me until at least high school. But our desire to live somewhere where our children would be safe, and could roam around outside on their own is the EXACT reason that Rick and I moved to a small town, and far away from the city.

So, I'm thankful that someone posted that article. I think we are too paranoid, and are urged by the media, society, and other parents to be so. I won't be. I will still want to know where my children are at all times, and will exercise reasonable caution, and teach my children to do the same thing. But I will choose to let go of some of the paranoia and allow kids to be kids. I say that we all should challenge ourselves to do the same thing.

Electronics and Those Pesky Little Logistics

Thanks to a totally erratic and undependable daycare provider, I have missed the last two days of work. Add to that a scheduled couple of days off for surgery, and it was time to call in my mom. Mom to the rescue! First off, let me tell you how much I have missed my mother. I got so excited on Monday night when I realized it was just 24 hours before she would be there, that I almost cried. My girls love her, and having her around is just a major comfort for me; sometimes I almost feel as if I can relax and not be an adult anymore. I can slip back into the responsibilitylessness (yes, I made that up) of childhood. Of course, that's not how it happenes, but it's all mental, I think. I've just been so stressed out and totally overwhelmed, that it's just a relief and so joyous to have my mom around, if only for a couple of days.

Anyway, enough about my desire to be a kid again and not deal with life. So my mom has spent plenty of time with my kids since they were born. I have every confidence in her ability to care for them, and to know their schedule and routine to a point. But now that we live 100 miles from her, and don't see her on a daily or weekly basis, there are a lot of little things that go on from day to day that she is not familiar with. For example, I spent about 45 minutes last night getting all of Gabby's stuff ready for school, and explaining when and where the bus picks her up each day, and what she shoudl wear, etc. It seemed rediculous, but it was necessary so that my mom knew what was going on, and so that I felt confident that my daughter would get to school and home with no issues today. I also let my mom know what was in the fridge and cupboards to make for lunch and snacks, and made sure she knew my work phone number in case she needed to call. What I did leave out, stupidly assuming that it needed no explanation, was instruction on how to use the TVs and DVD players. Doh!

I have received two calls from my mom so far today. Both calls have been quesitons on how to use this electronic device, or which channel this device should be on, etc. Things that we take for advantage... that even our almost-four-year-olds know how to work, are NOT totally self-explanatory. Lesson learned.

Giving Back

Tuesday, I was one miserable mommy. I was sick to my stomach, and wanted nothing more than to sleep my miserableness away and forget I existed for just a little while. I couldn't leave work early because we only have one working vehicle at the moment... the car is sickly and we can't afford to fix it. So, I was responsible for picking daddy up from work at the end of the day, and then we could go pick the girls up together. This would have normally made for a very nice night - one where we could spend a lot of time together. But I was so miserable sick, that once I got the girls settled, and dinner on the table, I left daddy with instructions to give the girls a bath and make sure they got to bed on time. Then, I went and layed in bed. The girls would have nothing to do with the fact that daddy was giving them a bath, and that I wasn't playing with them. So I explained that mommy was sick; mommy wasn't feeling well and needed to lay down. But that if they would just allow daddy to give them a bath, they could come lay in bed with me afterwards and watch the Playtime video before heading off to bed. This placated them enough that they went off to the tub without much complaint.

While they were in the tub, I gloriously fell asleep. But I was rudely awakened by one very incessant knock at the door and Deborah yelling, "MOMMMY! MOOOOOMMMMY! LET ME IN!" One of the other girls opened the door and suddenly, I had three little girls cudding up in my bed with me. Belle was on my left side, Deborah was cuddled up on my right, as close to me as she could get without literally crawling inside of my body, and Gabby was on the other side of Deborah. The video began to play and the twins lost themselves in the songs and movement of the TV.

But Deborah, she wanted to take care of me. "Mommy, you sick?"

"Yes, honey, mommy's sick. Mommy just wants to sleep so she can feel better tomorrow so we can all play together."

"I make you feel better, Mommy." And with that, she snuggled in closer, her face inches from my face, and laid her tiny, soft, warm hand on my cheek. Then, she began to rub my face in that gentle, loving way that I do to her when she is tired, or hurt, or sick. She pushed the stray hair from my eyes, and leaned in to kiss my nose, and then my forehead. And, miserable as I was, I knew true happiness in that very moment. It's those moments, when our children give back to us, in ways that we never believe are possible, that we know why God blessed us with children. If I didn't have any, and lived life without experiencing that very moment, I would have missed out on so much joy.

It's all worth it. When we think that we just cannot possibly give any more of ourselves without breaking down, and giving up; when we have put so much into providing for our families, and restrained ourself so valiantly in the face of three simultaneous kicking, screaming, tantrums-- it's these moments of giving back that ground us, and make us KNOW that we would do it all over again without a second thought.

25 minutes later, as the tape ended, all three girls said, "Goodnight, Mommy, I love you", and I had gotten loves from all of them (except for Belle who didn't want to hug me or kiss me in case my sickness spread to her-- have I taught her that well??), they all climbed the stairs with daddy to snuggle in their beds. And I went back to sleep again, to rid myself of my miserableness. Only this time, I fell asleep with a tear of happiness hanging form my lashes, and a smile on my face.

The giving back - it makes it all worth it.

Resolutions... or Revolution. You decide.

It's been a long time since I blogged, but last night, while lying in bad after being wakened by Deborah's cries to fetch her the YELLOW blanket - no, not THAT yellow blanket, the YELLOW blanket - I realized that I may be missing out on a unique opportunity to document your childhoods. I stopped taking pictures about a year or so ago, when our digital camera stopped uploarding to our now defunct computer, and when we got to the point where film for the 35mm was a luxury we just couldn't afford any more, let alone processing. So now, it's just special occassions that get pictures, and even then, the pictures usually come from relatives who are kind enough to share their digital pictures with us. So what's left? Nothing but stories that I manage to forget hours after they happen because I am usually too busy or distracted to remember my own name, let alone yours.

So here's to a new resolution. It doesn't matter to me that this resolution is taking place mid-March. I am proclaiming this my new New Year. In the last few days, I have taken a long, hard look at my life, and I don't like what I see. I feel like I am missing my life. Like it is going by in fast forward, and I am watching it whiz by me. I feel as if I am cheating my husband of a good marriage, and I am cheating my kids of a good mother, and a good childhood. I want you girls to look back on your childhood and remember all of the wonderful memories you have - not all of the things you missed out on. So here goes. A resolution. Maybe a revolution to topple my life as I know it, and replace it with a better one. One worth living.

Wish me luck, girls.

I've always sort of thought of myself as white trash, so I took this quiz that Lady Katya had in her Blog:

I am 22% White Trash.

I, my friend, have class. I am so not white trash. . I am more than likely Democrat, and my place is neat, and there is a good chance I may never drink wine from a box.

Take the
White Trash Test
@ FualiDotCom

I guess I'm not white trash... but I AM a republican, thank you very much! Oh, and I have had wine from a box... quite a few times, actually! LOL

Haircuts, schmaircuts.

So last night hubby wanted to go get his hair cut. Since I wanted to get the girls' hair cut, also, I had a bright idea... "Honey, why don't we all go and get our haircut??" Bright idea, especially since we didn't leave the house until 7pm... bedtime is 8.

So, we get to Great Clips. If anyone else has taken a toddler to get their hair cut, you have an idea of the struggle that can ensue when you try to place the child in the chair, put a drape around them, and expect them to stay still. HAH! Who are you kidding? Now, expand that vision to include two tired toddlers, a baby, hubby getting his haircut, too, and having to wait for a half hour before the kids got into the chairs. By the time we left, we had two crabby, very sticky (from bribery suckers) toddlers with uneven haircuts, an overheated baby with a horribly poopy diaper, a harried mom with NO patience left and not even a haircut to show for it, and a calm, cool and collected hubby acting like it was the best experience he has ever had in his life.

Figures.

So then we have to go to Target to pick up the kids' prescriptions. While we are there, hubby gets some wild hair up his butt and we need to spend money. A Disney CD, a Wiggles DVD, two Elmo DVDs and three childrens' books later, we left the store. Just what we needed, of course. (Imagine, if you will, how my eyes are rolling at the moment.) Oh, and by the way, the batteries in one of the "noisemaking" storybooks are already dead-- they lasted 5 minutes into playtime at home.

*sigh*

To Everything, turn, turn, turn...

So lately I feel as if my life's theme song should be Turn! Turn! Turn! by the Byrds...

Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There Is a Season)

The Byrds

words adapted from the Book of Ecclesiastes by Pete Seeger

music by Pete Seeger

To everything - turn, turn, turn

There is a season - turn, turn, turn

And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die

A time to plant, a time to reap

A time to kill, a time to heal

A time to laugh, a time to weep

To everything - turn, turn, turn

There is a season - turn, turn, turn

And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to build up, a time to break down

A time to dance, a time to mourn

A time to cast away stones

A time to gather stones together

To everything - turn, turn, turn

There is a season - turn, turn, turn

And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time of war, a time of peace

A time of love, a time of hate

A time you may embrace

A time to refrain from embracing

To everything - turn, turn, turn

There is a season - turn, turn, turn

And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to gain, a time to lose

A time to rend, a time to sew

A time to love, a time to hate

A time of peace, I swear it's not too late!

And why do I feel that way, you may ask? Because it seems as if there is never any sure stability in life, you know? Changes and unexpected things happen all the time. And then there are the things that you plan for. Even though you plan them, they feel like a complete and total upheaval of your life and your existence.

Take, for example, the family change that we have been planning for a while, now. As of tomorrow, hubby will be Mr. Mom. He is staying home with the kids and I will be working. I suddenly have to learn how to ride the bus to and from work since we only have one vehicle. Then, I have to take care of the kids all by myself at night-- the only chance we have for family time anymore will be on the weekends. Hubby has to find a way to take care off all three kids every day for 10 hours a day and then go straight to work, all the while staying sane. And I will not have a car at night to go anywhere or do anything. I can't even drive hubby to work because to pick him up at 10pm I would have to get all of the kids out of bed, in their coats, in the car and off to pick him up. Then we would have to try to get them back into bed once they have gotten all excited to be going bye bye... well, you get the picture. It's going to be an extreme change for us and I'm just not ready for it.

*sigh*

Barbie, Flames and Underwear... All in One Post.

I just had to post this. While Googling the WWW for Barbie underwear for my girls, I came across this article. In the midst of reading it, you should have seen me rolling on the floor in hysterics... Blading Barbie Sparks Up Hell on Wheels

Gotta love Dave Barry...

Potty Training - The Adventure Begins...Maybe.

So, people have been pushing us to start potty-training the twins. Let me point out that they are 21 months at this moment. They will be 22 months old on February 8th. My original goal was to have them potty-trained by age 2. My sister-in-law bought the girls a potty chair a couple of months before the baby was born when they were still only about 14 months old in an attempt to get them started. Since then, we have introduced them to the potty chair, allowed them to play around it, coerced them to sit on it whenever they want to... etc. They have each successfully pottied on the potty quite a few times. Gabby much more than Belle. As a matter of fact, this morning as hubby put a clean diaper on Gabby just after they woke up, she tried pulling it off and pointed toward the bathroom. I told hubby I thought she was trying to tell him something, so he brought her to the potty-- and viola! She went. So they may or may not be completely ready.

But I have struggled with the concept of being ready myself to deal with potty training two at once. I keep imagining running to the bathroom withone child or another every 5 minutes, taking up ANY free time we manage to carve out of our busy lives. Hubby and I, though excited about the idea of not buying diapers anymore for our twins, may not yet be committed to the idea of working so hard, yet. But then, I think we may be cheating our daughters and ourselves by not letting them get an early start to wearing cool Barbie or Elmo underwear and get them out of those darnned daper-rash causing pieces of paper. So what do we do?

Back to my obsession with Googling. I managed to find a page dedicated to twin parenting called Twinsights.com whose focus for today (not sure if it changes daily or what) was potty training twins. Since I am not famailiar with the site, I am not sure how often the content changes, or if the links will change as the content changes. If not, you can find the article here. Anyway, my point is that I am not nuts for feeling the way I feel-- obviously, many twin parents have the same problems I do with commitment. Sheesh, it sounds like I am talking marriage... I'm only talking underwear here, people.

Oh well. I'm sure I'll keep you up to date on all of the potty happenings at my house as we continue with the saga...

Googling

Okay, I'll admit it: I'm addicted. I am officially a Googlaholic. I am a Google addict. I just found myself staring at my computer screen with the Google search page up, twiddling my thumbs and saying, "okay, what should I Google?" and I was dead serious about it, too. I had no reason to Google anything, other than to float my boat.

So it made me think. What is it about Googling that is so addictive? You pull up an almost entirely blank page. You put in a word or phrase, any one you can think of, and you hit that boring ol' grey button to do a Google search.

And then, the world opens up in front of you.

It doesn't matter what you are looking for, or not looking for, you will find it. Somewhere, somehow. You may end up finding it in arabic, but it's there. 466,000 search results for "black llama". Can you believe it? Obviously, yellow llamas are much less exciting as a Google search for that comes up with only 107,000. And don't even try to be as vague as just Googling llama because there's no way you'll ever be able to sift through 5,140,000 results.

And notice, this noun has turned into an action verb simply by virtue of its popularity. It used to be that you "did a Yahoo search" for llama, or a "Google search". Now, you Googled llama. The other day my husband asked me to Google our state house representative to get some information about it. Gotta love it. No wonder this search giant was the first company to successfully launch its IPO with a dutch auction. Even working in the investment banking industry, it's a suprise to me that it worked out successfully.

So, I gotta go. Gotta go Google.