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....