Tuesday, December 28, 2010

It's Gotta be Jelly Cause Jam Don't Shake Like That

Afternoon Readers,

While standing at the sink this morning, I came to a conclusion. This conclusion was brought on by the otherworldly shaking my hip/belly fat made while I mixed the twin's bottles. I'm of the opinion that anytime one can watch as a ripple makes it's way from around the lower back and culminate in a size-mic earthquake around the belly button area...there's a potential problem.  It begs desperately for someone to call the National Guard, as you may just take out a few small buildings if your muffin top gyrates wrong. Standing in my sweatshirt, underwear, and fuzzy ankle boot slippers, I decided then and there that it's time for a change. It's time to get off my butt and workout....ugh.
     Anyone who knows me, knows that working out and I are mortal enemies of the most serious kind. Working out is the Darth Vader to my Luke Skywalker...the Joker to my Batman. I hate it and it hates me, and I've been A-ok with this for most of my years on this planet. Now, I'm well aware that there are those who enjoy a very satisfying love affair with it; jogging in their matching spandex and sleek, blond ponytails. I WISH I was that waif of a lady running on the treadmill like a pack of wild wolverines was after her, all the while keeping a smile that says, " I don't have to use a crow bar to zip MY pants." Barf.

Friday, December 24, 2010

Baby Burlesque or The Art of The Public Diaper Change

Good Morning Readers,

It seems as though it’s been forever since I posted. This is due in part to the impending holiday tornado that’s about to descend upon a wide-eyed and sleep deprived me, and partly because nothing exciting has transpired over the last few days. I do, however, have to take time out of my regularly scheduled day to share something new I'm now being subjected to whenever I leave my house....the public diaper change.
     If I could pick one word to describe this experience, I'd be just grazing the wide, wonderful pool of adjectives by picking "magical". There’s simply nothing like having to strip your baby down in the middle of a parking lot in order to sanitize its nether-regions, while simultaneously trying to avoid the horrified stares of the general public. In my case, both the twins needed to be changed after we exited a last minute shopping trip this past weekend, and this went quickly from a simple job, to what, I’m certain, resembled a circus side show act.

Friday, December 10, 2010

Peace and Dogsicles

Hey Readers,

You've found me in the middle of an important decision. Should I keep staring at my dog through the glass door?....or should I let him in? Now, if I let him in, there's a good chance that I might find myself in the middle of a crime scene. Murder most foul as it turns out. If I dont let him in, he may turn into a boxer shaped popsicle, thanks to the chilly Midwest's disposition to freeze everything in its path. Decisions. Decisions.
     Everyone of my readers whose a PITA member has already phoned my name in, I'm sure. Everyone else, please hear me out. Hold on...I think he's trying to write something on the door. No..wait....yep, just licking it like an idiot. Ok, so here's the thing.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

When Old Ladies Wrestle Dog Food

Good Afternoon Readers,

I had to stop and check myself this morning, because as it turns out, I may just be a bad parent…or possibly incapable…I haven’t decided which yet. How do I know? Well, it’s certainly not from any physical signs I’ve detected lately. I have all my hair and my knees work ok. But, I have gotten a few ques from the geriatric population recently, that could suggest that my children are in the wrong set of un-manicured hands. I’ll let you make the call.
     Let’s rewind to yesterday’s expedition to a certain Supercenter. I haven’t updated you lately, but the process has gotten a lot smoother. I look like a pack mule…but smoother.
It’s important for you to have an idea of what this looks like however. Due to votes from both the twins, the stroller has been deemed an evil contraption and because of this, sits abandoned in the back of the car. Therefore, when entering any store, I do so with my son strapped to the front of me in the Baby Bjorn, and my daughter, in her carseat, securely placed in the front of the cart. This actually works out great for my son as he likes to take his sisters socks off and throw them behind us as we walk.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Death to You Oh Blackest of Fridays..

Good Morning Readers,

How is everyone? I know I've been absent again, but it's that time of year. I’m of course referring to the past Thanksgiving weekend. Nothing truly pivotal happened besides the usual family gathering, over-eating, and falling asleep to visions of pumpkin pies dancing in my head. (I AM a fat kid occasionally). However, we did learn a little something about Black Friday. Ready? Never ever ever ever…take your babies to the mall on that day.
     Now, I know some of you are laughing to yourselves saying “Of course not you fool!”, but sometimes as a parent, you get bored, and that prompts you to do things that defy reason. This includes navigating your family through a sea of sweaty, desperate people searching for the cheapest head-contouring pillow, blender, porcelain porpoise, etc…on the market.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

UnEasy Like Sunday Morning

Good Morning Readers,

I thought I'd take a second while waiting for the plumber (yes, there's delicious poop water in my laundry room again.), to tell you a little story about what happens when one forgets to fill up her gas tank and the inevitable circumstances that generally follow such a rookie mistake.
     I'd like to preface this story by letting you know that the gas gauge in my car is actually broken. It's husband and I's fault for purchasing the vehicle in this condition, but as it was a great deal and shoving two babies unbuckled into the back of a sports car that technically doesn't have a backseat is generally frowned upon anywhere other than the Appalachian mountains, we decided to take it home. We considered the convenience of actually knowing how much fuel we have in our car a minor sacrifice for the the spaciousness we were about to acquire.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Half Birthday Lessons...or The Tale of the Flying Plate

Good Morning Readers,

Another busy few days have gone by, and with those days have come valuable life lessons and significant landmarks….and by that prior statement I mean that our babies are still alive and thriving after six whole months and we’ve now learned about something we’re not allowed to do ever again.
     First of all, I’d like to give myself and the husband another pat on the back to reward our child rearing skills thus far. Six months is a big deal for any parent. It signifies not only a first half-birthday for your little twinkie, but that you’ve shouldered your way through the late nights, constant feedings and oblivious stares, to a little more sleep, less feedings, and infants that laugh when you trip over the dog. In the twin’s case, I’m not only being laughed at, but screamed at as well. My daughter has mastered the art of a Mariah Careyesque high C note, and uses it mercilessly if she happens to be a) left alone, or b) stuck like a tiny beached whale on her back.
These developments are all well and good, but they definitely contributed to an epic parent fail husband and I experienced this past weekend. I’ll set the scene…

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Ho Ho Hold On a Minute People

Good Afternoon Readers.

     Let me begin by asking you a question. Do you enjoy eating Halloween candy while listening to Jingle Bells, Deck the Halls, or Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer? Hmm…yes, neither do I.  And as I haven’t really cranked about anything in a bit…or at least I think I haven’t, I’d like to vent to you today about something that bothers me every year….this year being the most annoying thus far. This poop in my popcorn, on so many levels, happens to be America’s obsession (or by closer approximation, manufacturer’s obsessions) with trying to get us poor folk  to celebrate Christmas TWO months before the actual holiday. Grrr. I’ll name a couple reasons just why this is not only ridiculous but stressful…..and we all know that causes breakouts. Let’s begin.
     As I sat in my car the day after Halloween, I flipped through the stations casually looking for something to take the edge off of waiting in traffic. What I got was Silent Night. Huh? I racked my brain trying to figure out whether I’d gunned the Blazer to 88 and accidentally ended up in the future again. No, that wasn’t it. Hadn’t I just dressed my babies in whimsical costuming the night before? Yes. My only thought…“Holy Crap, they’ve done it again this year."

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Trick or Treat Part II

Good Evening Readers,

Feelin alright? If you’re like me, you’re full of Halloween candy and completely burnt out from the weekend. Ugh. Not a bad ugh, but an ugh that says “Wow, I stayed out way to late, ate too much junk food, and tried to squeeze two five month year old babies into costumes that they didn’t particularly enjoy.” That type of ugh merits a nap for this writer (highly unlikely), and a story for everyone else, so Here. We. Go.
     Flash back to Friday night. Wait, wait, Friday during the day would be much better as it was nothing short of manic. Reason being, my daughter developed a cold and took it out on me for what must have been eleven hours. Husband had to work that day, so I fielded the baby cuddling, feeding and acting as a human spit up cloth, all by myself. Somehow I made it to the evening, and wearing only pajama pants, a sweatshirt, and leopard print flats, managed to haul both my little dumplings to Grandma’s house for a much needed night off. After getting everyone settled,  my leopard print flats and I booked it back to car post haste so that I could A.) sing Thriller at the top of my lungs, and B.) fly home and get ready.

Friday, October 22, 2010

And Now a Note on Bathroom Solace

I’m taking a time out today so that I can speak to you about a very serious life lesson that’s finally come full circle and bit me in the metaphorical butt. It’s something that I used to laugh about as a child because I had no idea how serious the situation actually is, and how many innocent mothers it affects. Today I’d like to make amends to my own poor mother by addressing the “No Mother Left Alone in the Bathroom” crisis.

For every one of my readers who isn’t a mother, please continue reading as you’ll more than likely find it amusing, seeing as how you’re still considered an offender. For all my readers who are mothers and have graduated to status of victim, please read along and try not to cry as I paint the following picture…..

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Like Real People Do

Good Morning Readers,

When October started, I vowed to write often. To say that I lied to myself is a little harsh, but I definitely fibbed. I'm discovering that the only thing that can hold up writing about motherhood and family...is motherhood and family. Yes, it's been a busy last few days around my little household, but I tell you this, great and wonderful things have been happening. Milestones have been reached in my children's development that, in my opinion, call for an opening in the clouds, a blinding light shining through, and a hallelujah chorus beating down upon our split level. Holy moving babies Batman!... My kids do people things now!
     Now then, what do my baby daughter and the cheese have in common?...They both stand..er sit alone! That's right, in the past few days, my baby girl (frustrated that we keep putting her on her stomach, and determined to divert our attention elsewhere) managed to put her chubby hands out and prop herself to a sitting, albeit wobbly, position. This new ability has gotten stronger to the point of her showing off her awesome core strength while balancing on my right hand. Talented baby!

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Trick or Treat Part 1

Good Morning Readers,

     In case you haven't noticed, it's that wonderful time of year again. The leaves are changing, the weather's getting cool, and Halloween is just around the corner. Besides the obvious wonderfulness of drinking hot cider, watching horror movie marathons on AMC, and pairing awesome boots with skinny jeans and equally awesome sweaters, this year, I'm pretty much psyched out of my mind to get to do something I've never done before. I'm of course referring to dressing my kids in the ridiculous costuming of my choice.
     Please note that I've named today's selection "Part 1" as this is probably just one of a couple I'll need to relate to you. Reason being, this whole super duper exciting costuming thing is turning into something a tad difficult. Don't get me wrong, I've done this completely to myself. I thought it'd be easy. I have twins, just pick a pair of something and dress them as said pair...er...maybe. The problem results from the fact that there's a billion things to choose from, and I don't want them to look back at their first Halloween, turn to me slowly, and say, "you dressed me like a  pumpkin....original." I'll start crying and go hide in my closet for awhile, lamenting my lack of creativity and ability to be a Family Fun/Parenting/Martha Stewart Living type of mother.
     As I do have somewhat of an active imagination, however, I've decided to push most of these unlikely scenarios out of my head and narrow down my choices. I mean, I have two fat, adorable babies. I could dress them in brown paper bags, call them "sack lunches" and everyone would still say, "Oh, how cute!" I did want to dress them as baby lobsters and me as a chef, but the only costumes I could find would require a second mortgage on my home...so that's a no go.
     I've narrowed down my choices, but I won't say just yet....need some more deliberation.  I'll check back in, as this new adventure will require a trip to craft store and hunting down that elusive animal single people call "free time".

Until next time readers!


Tuesday, October 5, 2010

A Tale of Two Couches

Good Afternoon Readers,

     I'd like to start off today by saying how much I love a deal.  I'm not talking about nabbing a couple "Louis Vouittons" out of the back of some some shifty, toothless guy's Cadillac, by any means. But anything legit...I'm all over it like white on rice. Recently, I got to flex my spend thrift muscles on a great buy. Consequently, my husband now thinks I'm crazier than he estimated me to be, when he slipped that ring on my finger and said " I do......not know what I'm getting into."
     As my faithful readers, you all know that I own a mammoth, destroyer of a dog who has eaten, slobbered, farted on and rendered my furniture useless. I've spent my last couple weeks lamenting the fact that, when guests stop by, I kindly have to ask them to sit on top of each other, so as to utilize the two "good" cushions I have available. Thankfully, God, in his mercy, smiled down on me and said, "Paige, this is getting ridiculous. I will fix it for you."

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

The Babies and the Bathwater

Good Morning Readers,

     Hopefully everyone’s day so far is sailing along smoothly. I, for one, am relaxing and thanking the good Lord that I don’t have to repeat yesterday’s bathing ritual. It was totally necessary, but per usual, it was a tad draining (no pun intended). It’s not that I don’t delight in the bathing of my babies like every other mom, but you see, sometimes doing everything twice can be a little trying..
      As I mentioned yesterday, my babies did, in fact, smell like old cheese. Now, some of you may be confused by this terminology, so allow me to explain. At times, especially if a baby is bottle-fed, as mine are, they begin to develop a foul odor. This particular brand of smelliness stems from the constant flow of formula and/or milk that makes its way down the neck of the child, and then takes up residence in the fat folds under the chin. It then sits there (unless you religiously wipe your child down after each feeding), until a pungent sensation confronts you whenever you snuggle up to your baby.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Not Expecting the Unexpected....

Good Morning Readers,

I hope everyone's weekend was tolerable, if not stupendous or extremely relaxing. I write today not because I had earth-shattering adventures either, but my last couple of days were filled with wonderful and not so wonderful randomness. Behold, my series of random events...

Friday began with poop water...well, not really poop water, but nasty sewer water bubbling up through my basement drain and all over my laundry room floor. Turns out, my home's main drain hadn't been "snaked" (whatever the heck that means) since 1969, and there were actual roots growing in it. With a quick visit from Ken the plumber, and 100.00 later, we're now flushing around this place like it's our birth right.

Up next, a loud knock on my door at 9 am on Saturday morning. No...not the police, thank you very much, but my Mom and sister. I'd previously promised to make boutineers for homecoming...and as usual, completely forgot. This resulted in early morning coffee, an enjoyable chat, and me attempting to tape roses to floral wire, whilst trying not to hot glue gun my hair to the table..

Saturday continued with a surprise visit from one of my sisters who attends college too far away. She helped me greatly this summer after the twins were born. When she arrived, my daughter thanked her for her dedication by screaming and slapping her in the face....bad baby.

My sister's visit led to another from my Mom and another sister (I have many). This resulted in a fabulously fun evening of catching up, and four women speaking at the speed of light to each other. My husband listened quietly. I have a sneaky suspicion he secretly wanted to throw himself through the nearest plate glass window, but he did an excellent job of hiding it.

Sunday was filled with early mass and then  80 hours of football. I tried desperately to pay attention, but ended up drooling face down in the couch for most of it. At the end of the day, there was quiet as I tucked both my children and my husband (emotionally spent from the football marathon) into bed. This left me alone with a bottle of wine, some clam chowder, and a couple rounds of Halo on X Box. A little strange, I know, but I picked up the skill when I was a pregnant, beached whale  who needed to entertain herself all winter. That's right, all the 8 year-old boys of the world fear me...

So, that was pretty much the weekend in a nutshell. Now it's time to attempt to bathe my babies, who currently smell like old cheese. Until tomorrow Readers!


Thursday, September 23, 2010

Love is a Frozen Chicken Nugget

Good Morning Readers,

Before you start thinking that I have some sort of unsavory love affair going on with the goods in my freezer, please let me stop you there. The topic I’d like to discuss today utilizes chicken nuggets solely for the purpose of explaining one of the important reasons I love my husband….
     I should start by letting you know, as I don’t believe I’ve actually mentioned it before, that I putter off to work every night after my husband gets home. Most of my adventures happen during the day with the twins, so work never seems that relevant, but last night prompted me to fill you in with that detail.   
     You see, when I venture out of the house each evening, my dear husband takes over the night shift all by himself. This means... he entertains, feeds, diapers, pajamas, and tucks in the piglets all by his lonesome. Before tonight, I haven’t really mentioned it, for the simple reason that I take his amazing dedication for granted, and get too caught up in the little annoying things like piles of boxers in the bathroom, incessant talk of fantasy football, and selective hearing (an entirely different post in itself).
     Last night, as I dragged my weary carcass from my vehicle, into the house, I could only meditate on what I’d eat for dinner, and how fast I could roll into bed after that. I greeted my husband and jumped in the shower; after which, I yanked on some pajamas and headed to the kitchen. Deciding he was hungry, my husband followed...

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Turkey Legs and Tights

Good Morrow Readers,

I doth fair appropriately and how be thee on this fine morn? If you've been wondering what I've been up to lately...as I'm sure you have....the above hopefully clued you in. Yes, that's right. This weekend, I was privy to the sight, sounds, and occasionally disturbing costuming of the Renaissance Festival. I wanted to relate this spectacle to you yesterday, but as the twins were is seriously foul moods, that just wasn't happening. Now let's see what I can remember...
     As usual, when Saturday morning rolled around, husband and I started looking for things we could keep the twins busy with. As luck would have it, some friends of ours gave us a call and asked us to accompany them to aforementioned festival. We gladly accepted, jumping at the chance to stroll around once again in the fine weather we've been having. And, as we'd never been to this particular event before, we were highly curious as to what we'd been missing....if I'd only known.

Friday, September 17, 2010

Can You Please Make My Baby Cry?...Again

Good Morning Readers,

Lets start today by doing a little exercise in imagination. I'd like you to close your eyes and envision yourselves sitting in a very small room. It's quite cold and poorly lit. You feel totally alone. In the distance, you hear a child crying. All of the sudden, a large woman, who looks to be of Viking origin, throws open the door and demands that you both strip your child naked and follow her to the room at the end of the hall. For those of you who thought I was describing a Kubrick film, you're close, but not quite. For everyone else that guessed that it's just another trip to my childrens' doctor....please accept this gold star.
     Ahh, the four month check-up. This is what my husband and I were up to yesterday. For those of you who’ve never been blessed with a trip to the pediatrician, I can only give you a rough description of what could only be described as a nightmarish, medical, Disneylandesque jaunt. Reason being, is that you really must take it in for yourself sometime. I insist.
     No, really. There’s honestly nothing more enjoyable than hauling two very hefty babies to the fourth floor of a building in the hopes of making it to the appointment on time. It doesn’t really matter however, as you will be made to entertain your children like a circus clown while you wait for another 20 minutes to see the doctor.
     When you’re finally fortunate enough to be called, you are then herded into the aforementioned tiny, freezing room, where, you’re asked to undress your babies. This works out wonderfully, as your child is already frightened and crying…why not make them shiver as well? You're then forced

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Baby Bootcamp....aka...Mental Toughness

Good Afternoon Readers,

There was no getting around it, today, the laundry absolutely needed to be addressed. And as much as I like living like a hobo, pulling my outfits from the clean laundry basket or maybe recycling from the dirty one, we simply needed to both wash and put away some clothing. There's only one problem that seems to present itself whenever I need to get something like this done...I simply can't hold two babies and do housework simultaneously. Just doesn't work (then again, if I happen to grow a third arm, I could possibly swing it). Today I was forced to practice some tough love and mental strength.

But, before I launch in to my experience of putting away the laundry, I should probably inform you of something first. My daughter, as it turns out, hates being put on her stomach... Actually, she hates being put down in general. At this point in her life, being surgically attached to me is just. fine. with. her. And as it stands right now, I do most activities with her either sitting in my lap, or standing on my lap,simultaneously slapping me in the face with one of her chubby paws....Peachy

Monday, September 13, 2010

Celebrations and Meatloaf

Good Morning Readers,

So I'm happy to report that I've pulled myself together enough to successfully rear my children to the age of 4 months. Granted, when we drove them home from the hospital oh so many weeks ago, I had serious doubts that we'd all make it through the first night together (let alone a lifetime), but we've been sweetly successful so far.....

Ok, so as I was very excited about my little mile marker in child raising, I decided to get in the kitchen and actually cook something.... I guess this requires a little explanation....Now, there's a lot of things I like to do in the way of homemaking:  cleaning, laundry, bed making, dishes, etc. However, when it comes to running into the kitchen and whipping up a four course meal...Julia Child, I'm not. Yep, tried to read the Joys of Cooking, failed to find the joy in it, and used it to prop up a chair instead.

This is the part where most people, including my husband, tend to tell me that I don't know HOW to cook. Wrong! I know how to cook, I just derive no pleasure from it at all. As I like to say, I know how to run too, but you don't see me signing up for every marathon in town.....That aside, occasionally I like to surprise my husband with something I've lovingly thrown together and shoved in the oven. And since it was cause to celebrate, I completely talked myself into making some delicious meatloaf.

Ahh, the ever reliable meatloaf. Easy to make. Easy to bake. Gathering everything I needed on the counter top, I proceeded to put my son in the Johnny Jump Up and my daughter in her swing.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

It's a Jungle Around Here....No Really

Good Morning Readers,

How are you? I'm doing well, just a little concerned. I don't care what anyone says, but being a housewife is a dangerous business, which, consequently, harbors hazards untold. I guess subconsciously I've always know this, but as of late, it's starting to fully reveal itself....and it's becoming an "expect the unexpected" type of life. Oh just gather round and I'll tell you what I mean....

Example 1) You must be a fearless spider killer....cold, both in the eyes and the heart. Now, you could just let those hairy little monsters run free, and simultaneously pat yourself on the back for being a little closer to St. Francis...OR...you could grab the nearest shoe and smash it to smithereens onto the wall. I personally, opt for plan B. Why? For the simple reason that in my mom-reasoning, everything is out to get my babies, and I must protect them... Insane? Maybe. All I know, is that I came face to face with one giant, particularly gangly fellow of the arachnid persuasion in my basement the other day, and let's just say....he didn't live to tell the tale.

Example 2) You simply must arm yourself for perilous cleaning situations. I've been presented with a couple of these lately(one of them involved facing what lives in the bottom of my bathtub)but the most frightening by far, was what was lurking in my refrigerator.
Chocolate pudding is usually harmless...usually. But when it's taken up residence within the recesses of your fridge, it's time to take action. My usual defense is to simply throw the entire offensive container into the garbage (I've lost a lot of good Tupperware this way mind you).

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Here's to Ireland....

Hey Readers,

You don't have to say it.....I missed you too. First and foremost, I apologize for leaving you all by yourselves for a few days. I've received more than a few inquires as to where I've been and whether I'd post ever ever again......well of course! Really, the long and short of its been the super busy weekend we just made our way out of. Like everyone else, I took the three day weekend ever so seriously and didn't partake in any work oriented activities.....this included writing as well. Yep, you said it...I'm lazy. But that doesn't matter readers, for what we did do this weekend, was to introduce our twins to their very first Irishfest....

As luck would have it, a very kind source supplied us with weekend tickets. And since my husband and I aren't nearly as boring as we look, we threw the stroller in the car and hit the road. Let me just say that we relish this type of public outing. Open air, room for the stroller, and nice. big. beers..... There's nothing more adorable than watching two young parents strolling twins with matching glasses of stout in each hand....I know. Beautiful right? Brings a tear to this eye.....

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Of Rain and Squids...

Call me a match, cause I'm burnt out. ..This is mainly due to the virtual barrage of things I’ve had to think up in order to keep the twins amused over the last couple of days. Because of Mother Nature’s recent gift of irritating rain, my options on what to do with the babies, have been seriously limited. At this point, I’m starting to feel like a really lame camp counselor who keeps scraping the bottom of the activity barrel, in the hope that the kids won’t just walk out.

Usually, if we get bored, I pile everyone into the stroller and get out and about the neighborhood. Since that’s out of the question, and taking them walking in a public place like a mall sounds about as fun as Chinese Water Torture, I’ve opted, instead to keep everyone inside. My M.O. has been to corral the babies on my bed, along with piles of toys, Bumbo seats, nap-time pillows and blankets, etc. Basically, anything needed for direct survival is kept within arms reach. My room no longer harbors an oasis of tranquility for its owner, but instead, looks like a Toys R Us stumbled in drunkenly one night and threw up.

The past forty-eight hours have been filled with 102 games of peek-a-boo, 86 shakes of a rattle, 70 different musical stylings on the Magical Scales Musical Fish Piano (I’ve almost figured out how to sound out Billy Idol’s White Wedding, but not quite). Aaaand….50 performances by Captain Calamari, the stuffed squid dressed like a pirate (seriously, I have no idea, so don’t ask). All in all…I’m tired.

I’m pretty sure the peanuts don’t get tired of me, but I swear sometimes they give each other sideways glances. Glances that say, “Seriously? Is she really starting Row Row Row Your Boat again?”. So……tomorrow will be different. I’m determined. We’ll get out. We’ll visit friends, pet farm animals, stare at passing cars…anything but another round of Masterpiece Theater with Captain Calamari…..Despite what they may think, my goal isn’t to bore my children to death four months after they’ve gotten here.

So at this point, I'm open to suggestions. Anybody wanna throw some baby friendly activity ideas my way?

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Threat Level Red...or....The Mystery of the Bleeding Foot

Good Morning Readers,

When it comes to the subject of emergencies, I'd like to think that I have a cool head. Be it a car accident, a tsunami, or the inevitable zombie apocalypse (no really...you should have a plan too.), I usually envision myself cool and confident. I own the situation. I James Bond the poop out of it. I thought I was one of those people...right up until yesterday's senario.

Let me start by saying that it's a well known fact that four month year-olds do NOT, have the ability to be mobile....well, at least not mobile enough to get themselves into any kind of real trouble. Ok, now that we've all agreed on this fact, please answer me this...How the HECK does a baby make her own foot bleed?! You hooked?...Good...I was too.

I'll set the scene. The babies had just awoken from their afternoon nap and begun their usual squeaks to let me know it was time for the 80th bottle of the day. Sooo.....leaving them on my bed, I quickly trotted down to the kitchen to make up some formula. They'd both started crying at this point, but I didn't think anything of it, since this is pretty much the norm when the dinner bell rings. My daughter started sounding a tad high-pitched, but as she's been impatient about everything lately, I simply finished shaking up the liquid peace and quiet, and headed back upstairs. That's when I saw it...

Sunday, August 29, 2010

A Quick Status Report

I have to make a small post while my epiphany is still fresh in my mind. Here goes........drinking is overrated. Ok, I'm not talking about the occasional couple of drinks, but the kind I partook in last night at a certain wedding reception. Had a lot of fun, until right now. As we speak, I sit in mismatched pajamas gearing myself up to go pick up the babies, who spent the night at Grandpa's. I miss them incredibly, but I'm not really sure it's worth it to have your head splitting while you try and entertain two little peanuts all day.

Along these same lines, I'd just like to say that the bar scene for me at this point in my life, is also completely overrated. As it turns out, I can no longer tolerate loud techno music, sweaty frat boys in smedium t-shirts, and  being packed into a closet-sized space like a drunk sardine.....

Also, when my husband and I got home last night, we were greeted by the site of our half-eaten love seat. Apparently, putting everything out of Flea's reach wasn't enough while we were gone, so he decided that he'd just get straight to the point and literally eat the furniture. My living room looks like 80 chickens were murdered down there. I'd call CSI, but I already know who the culprit is. Really not looking forward to cleaning that up.

Well, I'm off to grab some coffee and my babies. They beat out all that stuff any day of the weak....ok, this must be the sentimental type of hangover....

Have a great day readers...more adventures to follow!

Friday, August 27, 2010

Toys and Tears..The Tale of Johnny Jump Up

I have to say, I may have gotten a little over confident in my abilities to transport the babies out in public. Wait....let me re-phrase that. It's not the getting them out into public that's the problem, it's what happens there that totally bites sometimes.

As we have a couple social engagements coming up this weekend, I decided that I'd take it upon myself to try and pick up something new to wear, that didn't have Maternity stamped inside the tag. After much consideration, I determined that Target would be our first stop with a couple places worked in after that. Unbeknownst to me, the babies had already decided that Target would be our only stop for the day.

We made it into Target successfully, and the first fifteen minutes were fine. We strolled. We looked at useless things we didn't need. I resisted the urge to by myself 30 new picture frames. I thought to myself, "I've totally got this. Oh sweet freedom of shopping.". Lets see...I believe it was about fifteen minutes after that, that the twins decided to start a game of "Who Screams the Loudest Momma?" Oh. Good. And just so you know readers, trying to reason with two four month year-olds in the middle of the store looks absolutely insane.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

What's in a Name?

Good Afternoon Readers,

This weekend, between plugging one of my babies with a pacifier and eating pizza with my only free hand, it occurred to me that I've never actually explained where the name of my blog came from (Side Note: my blog is now an actual website, so feel free to save www.theresmorewherethatcamefrom.com to your favorites, tell strangers you love it, put it on at-shirt, or tattoo it on your left leg...I won't stop you). Eww, tangents...now where was I? Ah yes, everyone may now gather round for the story of a fat lady, a stromboli, and true love....
Once upon a time, I was a very pregnant little lady, who could barely see her feet. In an attempt to have some fun before the impending miracle, my dear husband and I decided to go out for a date night. As bumper cars and bowling were out of the question, we rested on the conclusion that dinner and a movie would probably be the safest activity for us to partake in. Soooo.....we waddle, waddle, waddled (ok, he strolled comfortably) to one of our favorite places to eat.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

And Now for a Quick Review: Rockabye Baby

Ok, while I'm in the moment and can remember it, I have to shout the praises of the Rockabye Baby! lullaby collection http://rockabyebabymusic.com/. It's a tad unconventional,  but I've become a supporter of the "whatever works" mentality when it comes to getting the ankle biters to sleep.  Why's it so great? How can something not be great when it's lullaby covers of some awesome and classic bands? As we speak, my little critters are slumbering peacefully on their momma's bed listening to some lullaby renditions of Queen. We have Tool as well, but it's a little much for a Sunday afternoon. As a parent, I can't help but be amused that I just finished making their little plush blue puppy dance to "We Will Rock You" and "Bicycle". Can't say enough good about this product!....now back to your regularly scheduled afternoons.

Friday, August 20, 2010

Come One! Come All!... and See the One Woman Show!

For obvious reasons readers, I've been postponing any type of public outings with the babies that require me to be on my own. The occasional trip to Grandma's is fine, but even going to the billion doctor's appointments that these children require, I've still been accompanied by a faithful sister. This week changed the game. I decided it was high time to get out and about. Two major outings resulted from this decision.
We started with a walk. This sounds like a simple task, but when you consider the process of changing the babies, dressing the babies, kenneling the dog, pulling the stroller out and setting it up, lugging both babies down two sets of stairs, strapping one in while the other one cries, packing the garage door opener, aaaaand.....remembering to dress yourself in socially acceptable clothing first, ......it all seems a tad overrated. All of of those things aside, I'd made the decision to overcome my fear.
So...I completed all of the steps above, and headed out  my door. (Please Note: On day 1's walk, I drove to a reputable park as I considered it safer to walk in. After that trip, I decided that our neighborhood was safe enough.) Day 2's walk went very smoothly and we did make a few good laps. Although, at one point, I found myself in a very isolated part of the block and promptly jogged my offspring back home for fear of being watched by some creepy neighbor from behind his dingy drapes.....both gross and absurd, I know.
Seeing as how my two whole walks went so well, today I decided that me and my tiny clan would hit up Walmart. Talk about a leap...geez.
We arrived early and peacefully. I found a satisfactory parking spot and again executed a smooth transition of baby from car seat, to stroller....Awesome. My mission was simple. Get in. Get formula and diapers. Get out. So, amidst the "Oh look at that"s, and the "Oh how sweet"s, I made my way to the baby isle and grabbed the necessary items.
It was at this point that my daughter decided that she hated Walmart and decided to let everyone know. We cried all the way to the frozen isle. To get you up to speed, my husband called requesting a frozen pizza; this required a basket, which in turn, required another trip to the front of the store. All of this resulted in a very unhappy baby by the time we reached the checkout. I, meanwhile, looked ridiculous pushing two infants and dragging a basket behind me. It also didn't help that the KU shirt I'd thrown on this morning proclaimed proudly to the world that "Win or lose, I still boozed". Yep, regular Mother of the Year over here.
All in all, we made it back to the car in one piece, and I'm still here to tell the tale. This now means that because I've now braved the outside world on my own, untold adventures await both you and I.........great.
So tell me readers, anyone out there relish the public outing as much as I do?

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Mothering 101...Pass/Fail Subject?

Ok, I'll get straight to it....Over the last couple days mothering exploits, I've realized that no mom is perfect for one reason...Ready?.....Because sometimes you have to attempt things that are just really, freakin' difficult..
Lately, I feel as though I've been dropped into a parenting edition of Survivor, which, at times, pushes me into wanting to cry or laugh histerically at any given moment. We all know how much time I spend in my pajamas, so this makes me appear both homeless and a little unstable....or at least it would if I was being observed by anyone else than God on a daily basis. I digress.
I'll offer up a recent particular situation for your education and amusement.
As of late, my extremely adorable babies have begun to look like tiny wolverines.This is due largely to the fact that their small nails have grown to the point where well-meaning relatives have started to take note, and my son has scratched himself in the face twice....drawing blood.
I have an excellent reason for not grooming my babies. Namely, they have super tiny nails and I'm terrified of cutting them....or at least, I was.
Yesterday, in my attempt to conquer my fear, and let the world know that my children shouldn't be headed straight toward protective services, I decided to do something about it. It went something like this.
1.) Position fat baby on lap...check
2.) Hold fat baby's hand securely.....check
3.) Steady trembling hands and.....cut!
Ok, what they don't tell you in the mothering guidebook, is that, at this point in the process, the previously calm, cherubic baby on your lap turns into a wild squealing little piglet. This little piglet is convinced that A.) you're there to cuts its little hand off...and B.) that it needs to get away right now.
Epic. Mother. Fail.
As I write this, my babies are currently playing in their Bumbo seats, the nails on their left hands distinctly longer than those of their right. I'm confident that we can all face the other half of the process later in the week when I've been forgiven, and everything's a bit calmer. So I ask you readers, is there an easier way to go about this ridiculous process of nail clipping?

Friday, August 13, 2010

To Kill the Dog or not Kill the Dog...That is the Question

It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that an unwatched dog is in search of some type of trouble to get into, in order to drive his owner bat s*** crazy. If you think I'm lying, you've never owned a dog. Either that, or you're the owner of a two-legged, blind chihuahua who can't get into trouble by default.
Whoa is me, for I have the other kind of K-9......the kind that searches......the kind that destroys.....the one we call..Flea.
For those of you who don't know, Flea is a 100lb, one year old boxer; because of this, he looks like a grown dog, but acts like a retard( Please note: this is not meant to be derogatory towards those who have the condition, but is instead, the only way I can describe my dog). Lately, among the usual hole digging, underwear eating, and the occasional chasing of the mail lady, my dear dog has decided to undertake super secret stealth missions designed specifically to drive be absolutely insane.
Item# 1: My dog enjoys the savory flavor of used diapers. This is particularly disgusting for obvious reasons, but what really gets me is the fact that he guts them and proceeds to grind their contents into my neatly Carpet-Freshed floors...mmm...poo carpet...........yum.
Item#2: He enjoys leaving slick, glistening trails of drool along my bed sheets as if to say, " Yes, I did lick my undercarriage profusely this morning, but please, the drool on your pillow is my gift to you...enjoy."
Item#3...........and probably the most infuriating of all, came to me at a time when all was right with the world. A time when I'd stepped out of the shower, basking in the feeling of being clean and relieved of by baby duties. A time when I glanced down and observed......a hole.....in.....my......wall. Arrrgh!!!
Yes dear readers, my idiot of a dog eats drywall..er plaster..oh hell, I don't know what the walls of a 50 year old house are made of, but so help me if mans "best" friend doesn't enjoy rolling it around on his defined palate and over his sumptuous jowls.
As I've informed my husband and constant champion of our pooch, his furry companion has 1 year to straighten up his act. After that, it's a one way ticket to Nothereanymoreville. I'm sure others have experienced my pain. I'm not an animal hater by any means, but seriously? Anyone?.... Anyone? 

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Dear Jennifer Aniston...you suck...Sincerely, My Muffin Top

Harsh, I know, but trust me readers when I say that it's deserved. Granted, when I got up today, I had many things I wanted to blog about...but that changed as I enjoyed my only peaceful quiet time reading in the bathroom this morning. TMI...maybe, but one has the right to enjoy her weekly People magazine in the commode of solitude, just as her husband does to escape into fantasy football stats.
Anywho, as I happily looked through the pages admiring how toned Zac Efron's become in the last year, I happened upon a small blurb about Miss Aniston and how fabulous her abs looked at 40. The photo in question can be seen in an add for a particularly crappy brand of water I've tried...but that's beside the point.
I guess most of us would've rolled our eyes and turned the page, but this small social commentary really burned my biscuits...."but Paige, what could have angered you so?", you ask,...Well, I'll tell you...
Every morning, I just happen to stroll past the mirror( you do it to..admit it), and survey my current body situation:  Saggy boobs..check. Stretch marks...check. Hair?...fabulously frizzy as usual. On this particular morning, I'd stopped and looked at my post-baby belly....well, at least that what it used to be. I'm sad to inform my readers that it is no longer a cute belly worthy of a sassy string bikini, but in its place is what now looks like a sad, mopey muffin( Please note that it has the ability to look like a happy muffin as well, it just depends on how fast I'm jumping up and down). The only other description I can come up with is that it also resembles a grumpy bulldog...but I haven't really decided which yet.
Anyhow, I had my sad little muffin belly in mind when I read the the article in question, and couldn't help thinking "No wonder your abs look so great, a tiny person hasn't kung-fooed their way out of them sister." I'm just a tad tired of hearing how great famous people look when they have unlimited budgets and personal trainers....especially those who've never been pregnant...ahhhh!
Ok, I feel better. And by the way, this was not meant to be offensive to anyone who's never been pregnant, loves Jennifer Aniston, etc...I just wanted to complain about my grumpy bulldog of a belly and continue with the day. I promise I'll write about something more important tomorrow....

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Do Babies Appreciate Show Tunes?

The twins were up at their usual 6:30am wake time....screaming...loudly. Now, this isn't any type of novelty. Most mornings around this joint begin with a blood curdling scream signifying the beginning of the day. Even though I've gone through the morning routine process many t:imes by now, I'm always a little hesitant before I throw open the bedroom door and proclaim "Good morning Tinies!". At that point, there's usually more screaming and desperate looks from the cribs that seem to say "Seriously? I've got poop in my diaper and you left me here all night!" Yeesh. Anyhow, I decided that today would be different. I would approach the day with a Maria Von Trapp esque way of dealing with the situation. And no, I didn't start sewing small outfits out of drapery. I decided that I would treat my small loves to the beautiful sound of their mother's voice, and sing some show tunes...Now as ridiculous as this plan sounds, it's amazing the lengths you'll go to in order to get your babies to be calm, or at least throw them off their game a little bit. I began with selections from Singing in the Rain (this included "Goodmorning" and the title track itself. I then launched right into "Meet me in St. Louis" and "All that Jazz" from Chicago. I would've thrown a few dance moves in there as well, but remembered just in time that I was only in a sports bra and pajama pants, and because of this, was in an excellent position to frighten the neighbors considerably if they happened to glance through the window.
Surprisingly enough, the whole production seemed to amuse the small ones quite a bit. I think I may have even won a few giggles from my two little critics. I wouldn't recommend this tactic on a daily basis, but I may start using it in times of need....If any other mom out there is as insane as I am, please let me know. Or if you have any suggestions as far as any musicals I haven't tried yet....