Tips for potty training twins:
1. Hire someone else to do it.
Believe it or not the terrible are usually pretty good when we are out in public. (When it’s just me and them). When the four of us leave the house it seems that cranky and spanky turn into feral cats. I blame their father for this. That’s another post for another time. Anyway, I’m not sure if it’s because they feel bad that it’s two against one or I’ve actually done a decent job of parenting. But they listen, follow directions, and generally don’t complain too much. I really enjoy our adventures…usually.
Last night I took them to a consignment sale. (A sale where parents sell their kid’s shit outgrown stuff to parents that need their
shit stuff). Side note: I love these sales because the terrible tend to destroy clothing, toys, and other necessities, so why bother buying new. Ok anyway, I told them they could each pick out a toy while I shopped for deals on summer clothes. (Which I got. Two dollars a shirt and three dollar swim trucks!). They were well behaved.
Because it was dinner time and I was enjoying their company I decided to take them to a restaurant as a treat. I have taken them out to eat many times and they are pretty good. I can’t expect miracles, after all they are two and a half.
We sat down, I ordered their food, (hot dogs and applesauce), and started looking at the menu for myself. They took this opportunity to crawl under the table. Once firmly planted back in the seats, I started looking at the menu again. They crawled under the table, of the people across from us. Thank god for old women. They didn’t care, and just wanted to know if they were twins. So now I’m annoyed. They poor waitress had been over to take my order three times. I just pointed to something and said I’ll just take that.
Their hotdogs came out and they were happy because it also came with French fries. Yay! For fried food. And applesauce. Oh the applesauce. Fucking applesauce. At some point the sauce got flung at me and landed in my hair. So at this point I’m literally praying that my food comes quickly. I need to end this before it gets any worse. Other than the two old ladies, which were still asking questions, everyone around us, (probably not parents themselves), were throwing dirty looks and whispering under their breath. I can still hear you! I’m sweating. I’m yelling at them in my best, we’re in public so I’m not totally lose it but there is hell to pay when we get home, voice. And then they do the unthinkable. They knock over a tray of food. They realize what they’ve done and instantly hide under the two old ladies. As if they are going to be able to protect them. Ha! No way. I leave a huge tip for our waitress, like 90%, and apologize to everyone as I drag them out to the car.
When I say, it was the worst date I’ve ever been on, I mean it. And I’ve been on some pretty shitty dates back in the day. When they woke up this morning they asked in the sweetest voices, “mommy, you still mad?”. Ugh, fact is, I’m not. I do realize I will never be able to go back to that restaurant again, and I’m pretty sure that our faces are plastered at the front counter, but I’m not mad anymore.
This is my purse. I bought it at Target on clearance for ten dollars. It seemed perfect at the time, cheap, big but not too big, and I could wear it across my body. Wearing a purse across my body is extremely helpful while chasing the terrible through hallways, stores, and grassy fields. It is big enough to stuff two diapers, a small pack of wipes, and matchbox cars into but not so big that I’ll lose important things like my sanity. Or so I thought.
After rummaging through my amazing practical cheap purse for 10 minutes looking for my keys, I just dumped it out.
This is what I found.
What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I have toilet paper in my purse? Or coupons that expired last year? Why am I carrying around plastic cutlery? At no point in time have I ever needed a plastic spoon.
Why am I holding onto candy wrappers? (I’m usually hiding while eating said candy so this makes sense now). Why am I carrying makeup? When do I plan to do touch up while I’m out? I really don’t need another ponytail holder, as my hair is always already in a ponytail. (My niece Taylor pointed that to me one day). Clearly she understands that I gave up.
Seriously? I piss myself off sometimes. There are two crayons. Well really one and a half. I believe Ben ate the other half.
Notice the two bottles of prescription medications. They are a pain reliever and xanax. Wonder why? Face masks that I bought, which I’ll never use….awesome.
This was my purse before children. Cute, small and free of toilet paper.
And this is after. Huge, cheap and filled with crap my children find outside.
I have moments of deep thought. Granted not often, and it usually is short lived. Today while sitting in traffic on my way home from work, one of these rare moments hit me. I’m not sure what provoked it; maybe the song on the radio, maybe the sun, that we haven’t seen here in south Jersey for at least three months, maybe it was just the quiet in my head. For the first time in a while, I wasn’t thinking about diapers, vomit, house cleaning, or schedules. I wasn’t worried about time, (rather the lack of), milestones, birthdays, spring cleaning, or money. It was the first time in many months that I just was. I was there, driving along, sitting in traffic, with not a thought in my head. Then I started thinking about my friends, and family. About how different our lives are now then what we ever dreamed they would be.
Some of us are married, some not. Some divorced, some just starting their married life journey. Some of us have babies, some of us have teenagers. That is beyond scary. We have real jobs, with real desks and real computers. (Except me. I don’t.). Some of us are deployed in lands that I could never imagine visiting. With real dangers, and real guns. Some of us are struggling with our demons, some getting help and some wasting away. Some of us are in therapy because we are all royally fucked on one level or another. We have houses, and cars, and plants we haven’t killed yet. We talk about things like mortgages and Roth IRAs. We worry about our parents and their aging. We worry if we will ever have it together. A good weekend starts on Friday night (not Thursday, day) and ends Sunday evening (not sometime Tuesday). We are perfectly happy to curl up with a glass of wine (not a bottle of Miller Lite) and watch a movie or read a book.
Is this growing up? Is this what being adult is? Because I seem to remember, being eighteen and knowing everything about, well, everything. I was an adult. I was grown, damn it. No one was going to tell me what to do or how to live. I had that shit. I was young, smart, and fun. Looking back, maybe I wasn’t so grown. Maybe I wasn’t really an adult. Maybe I needed a lot more life before I could say that.
I dyed my hair for fun. Now I dye my hair to cover the ridiculous amount of gray hairs. (I blame this exclusively on the terrible). My boobs are getting dangerously close to my belly button and I think I used to have an ass. It seems to have flattened out horizontal. But luckily I still have acne. Yay for my face! Please note the sarcasm there. I wax my lip and chin…What the hell?!? And I make weird noises after I’ve sat too long.
This wasn’t a part of the deal. This wasn’t supposed to be part of the deal. No one told me about this. No one told me I would turn into my mother and my mother would turn into my grandmother. Truthfully, I wouldn’t have believed them anyway.
So the question I still have is, am I really an adult? It certainly doesn’t feel like I’ve got this shit. I still wait for the day that it hits me that I’m a certified adult with my big girl panties on. In fact, I knew more back then, than I do know. A whole lot more was black and white, whereas now, all I see is gray.
When am I going to stop saying….
Get that out of your mouth!
Please for the love that is all holy in this world stop taking your pants off.
Why? Just why? Please tell me why.
No! You can’t run around the house naked…unless you want to use the potty. Then guess what? You can run around naked all day.
Stop wasting food!
How can you still be hungry?
We color on paper only. Not walls, not the couch, not our beds, not the dog, and certainly not each other.
We do not bite our brother. EVER.
We do not bite the dog. EVER.
Seriously, when will I be able to stop saying these things? For the record, I would be cool with the naked factor, if they were potty trained. But since they “like our diapers, mommy” I think we have a little way to go.
1. Sleep when they sleep is bullshit. Plain and simple. If I slept when they slept as infants, the house would have been condemned by the city.
2. Google is a dangerous tool for any new mother. I highly suggest throwing your computer and phones away when you give birth.
3. You will have a breakdown. How big or small depends on how much sleep you managed to get that week. And p.s. you will keep having them. Again, this is all dependant on sleep or the lack of.
4. You child/children will figure you out and use it against you. This starts way earlier then I imagined.
5. It’s ok to lie about your general hygiene. Everyone can see you haven’t showered in three days, but no one wants to talk about it.
6. What worked for your best friend, mother, sister, neighbor, may not work for your baby. You know what? That’s ok. Their way is no better or worse then your way. (Obviously not including abuse). No need to judge each other so harshly. We are all in the same, smelly boat. Smelly because none of us have bathed.
7. You will lose your patience. You will lose your Shit. You will yell, scream, and cry. At the end of the day as long as your
spawn children know how much they are loved, it will be ok.
8. Speaking of which, number 7 applies to your spouse as well. Don’t forget your partner in crime. They need your love too. Sometimes they also need to know how close they were to being stabbed in the neck with a fork while they slept too. Just saying.
9. Hugs and kisses can fix almost anything. And never underestimate the power of a child’s imagination. Monsters can lurk anywhere. But magic blankets can protect you from them too.
10. In two and half years I’ve learned more about the world from two little people then I have in thirty five years on my own. Sit back and enjoy every snotty, smelly, frustrating moment. These moments will be gone before we realize.
10 “facts” about yours truly…
1. I am the person people call when they need to vent. And I like that.
2. I pride myself on my ability to laugh. Laugh at myself, other people and horrible situations.
3. I try find good in other people, but I’ve learned that there isn’t always good to be found.
4. I listened to a ridiculous amount of angry rap music while I was pregnant with cranky and spanky.
5. Although I’m head over heels in love with my husband, I sometimes want to punch him in the throat.
6. When I feel passionate about something, I can’t and won’t let it go.
7. I really want a housekeeper.
8. But I don’t want a nanny. I love the time the terrible and I spend together. A babysitter on call might be nice though.
9. The terrible have completed something in my soul that I didn’t realize was incomplete. I thank Jason everyday for knocking me up.
10. I realize without the trials and tribulations, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. I like this person. Therefore, I am thankful for the hard times, the sweat and the tears.