Nothing Dignified About THIS Society Member! :(~

I woke up this morning with a burning desire to rearrange something. It is usually furniture, but Chad has forbidden me from doing that without him for now, and like a good wife I am trying to grant him his wish even if it is done with deep regret and a whole lot of heavy sighing. So I got Sydney off to school and Ashton is his bouncer and set off in search of something cluttered and neglected. I found many, many places that fit that description, but my kitchen "junk drawers"(yes, that's plural) won the makeover!
I spent the next three hours gutting and refilling the drawers, redirecting their purpose and finding a happy place for everything. I had let the twins out into the backyard to play, and they had been out there for the first two hours with nothing but squeals and make believe coming in through the back windows. They skipped inside both holding a bouquet of beautiful purple flowers......that smell kind of like a skunk that enjoyed a boat load of garlic right before it died! I don't know if many of you are familiar with Society Garlic, but it stinks. I cannot imagine anything so stinky being accepted into civilized plant society, let alone any other society you might think of. I would pull it out, but it smells so bad I can't get up the nerve to touch it. The scent lingers even after a bath, and clothes with the scent upon them must either be thrown right into the wash on hot, or quarantined in the garage until washing can be accomplished.
I am trying to paint a mental scent picture, am I achieving my goal? If you can imagine the scent, imagine my dilemma when these two beautiful girls come traipsing in holding handfuls of the offending blossoms. They were yelling, "Mommy, we picked flowers for you!", and Brookie is yelling "get a vase!", Payton is insisting that I smell them, and both are carrying the foulness into the house. I smiled(or grimaced) and thanked them and took the flowers, trying to touch them with as little of my hand as possible. I got out a vase and filled it with water and then spun a tale of how some flowers need to be out in the fresh air to last a long time. I convinced them that the vase should sit out on the patio table, for them to enjoy each time they played, and they soaked up the lie like the little sponges they are. Mommy is not only magical and super strong, she is also all-knowing!
I cannot get the smell of that plant out of my house, and am worried my hand scrubbing didn't do the job. Now it is 6:30 and I have developed a headache and a touch of nausea. I think it is half real and half in my head, but I am starting to smell it on myself, and am seriously considering taking another shower. Do you think stench can actually get into the folds of your brain? The thought, though absurd, seems sane enough at the moment, this is how badly affected I am by this smell. Sad.
If this story has a moral, I think it should be that a plant with an ironic name should not planted without a disclaimer!

* on a side note: I did not plant this offending flora, it was here when we moved in. :)

Toenails and Chinese Food

We all went to dinner with my Dad last night, and we went to our usual Chinese restaurant, Royal Palace. The food is pretty good and they are struggling to stay open in this economy, so if you like Chinese food and interesting Chinese art, please go try it, you get a 10% discount for the next three months! Now that the plug is done(the waitress asked us to please tell our friends), on to the meal.
We always order a couple of appetizers along with our usual entrees, so that the girls can try plenty of new things. This time we ordered shanghai scallops and paper wrapped chicken and pot stickers. The twins were digging the scallops, and also the freedom of being able to serve themselves from the dish due to their distance from me and their proximity to Grandpa. My Dad is always tickled pink that the girls eat so many different foods, and last night was no exception. I think they realize this, because the same girls that don't want mashed potatoes on Tuesday will eat steamed onions and squash and shellfish on Wednesday! Payton loved the mushrooms, and she would loudly proclaim each and every time she picked one out of the plate that it looked like a giant's toenail! Then she would tease Brookie with it, and then pop it into her mouth and announce that she just LOVED grey toenails! It got to the point where I could no longer eat the mushrooms on my plate, I get grossed out about slimy food pretty easily. They ate every vegetable on the plate along with the scallops, and Brooklyn even tried Chad's Mongolian chicken, which was very spicy. Sometimes I think maybe she doesn't taste spice the way the rest of us do, because the girl can handle some heat! They chattered away with my Dad, and listened to Sydney's jokes(she is quite funny) while they ate, and were being perfect little ladies all throughout dinner. I wish something funny and truly entertaining had transpired, but alas, they all behaved themselves and had a great time. They collapsed into bed as soon as they got home, and I had a horrible nightmare that I ordered food from a restaurant and each time I would go to take a bite, a huge toenail clipping would be right there on the fork, taunting me with it's very presence! Thanks Payton, mmm toenails! :(-

Fantastic Fashion and Mud Pastries!

Anytime the sun is out the girls follow me around all morning, causing all sorts of opportunities for me to trip and break my neck, asking if they can go outside. Today was one of those days, so I got them dressed right after breakfast and released them into the wild(backyard). Brooklyn doesn't really like mud, so she will usually swing and sing and yell at Payton to get out of her way. Payton on the other hand just LOVES mud, and she makes me lots of very interesting mud pastries, every one with a warning not to really eat it. Well, the roles were reversed today(they love to make a liar out of me), and so I watched as Brooklyn made mud castles(apparently she is not going to bake with her mud, the girl moved right to architecture) and Payton walked around the grass in my high heels and one of these gigantic purses my Mom gives them. Payton calls them "curses" which I think is quite fitting and so am in no hurry to correct. Brooklyn kept demanding that Payton join her in the dirt, and Payton just ignored her and strutted around, muttering to herself how beautiful she was in her new shoes. Brooklyn can be charming when she wants to be, but this day she has apparently chosen to be loud and forceful in her persuasion. She kept yelling to Payton, "Come play with the dirt!", over and over and with escalating ferocity. Payton continued to ignore her, digging those heels deep into the grass and then yanking them out with each step, singing, "Hallelujah, I'm a rock star"(she seems to enjoy mixing her worship music with her Hannah Montana!) Now Payton had done this very thing last week, but today she had the delightful addition of Sydney's training bra and a pair of too-tight pink cotton shorts! I promise(in case my mother is reading this) that I put regular-sized shorts and a matching T-shirt on the child after breakfast this morning, but the twins frequently throughout the day override my fashion choices with unique combinations of their own. I allow this because there are only so many ways a three year old can express herself, and I won't let them dress themselves when we are actually going to be leaving the house. Needless to say, many colorful and bizarre outfits ensue from this freedom! So, back to Brooklyn yelling from her dirt housing tract. She finally gets up and stomps over to Payton and stands in the way of Payton's continuous circle and reaches for the purse. "Come play with dirt!" she demands, and to my complete surprise Payton actually puts the "curse" down and kicks off the heels(hitting Brooklyn in the leg with one which they both giggled at) and followed her over to the soft dirt to bake along side her very dominant and usually successful sister. For the past hour I have been treated to the beautiful sound of the two of them giggling and talking and sometimes full out belly laughing at the things they are creating. Right now I glanced out to see them chasing a butterfly across the yard. Isn't motherhood lovely?!

Allergies and Algophobia

I am not feeling at the top of my game today, due to the horrible feeling of my head wanting to detach itself from my body. Though tempted to let it float away on the breeze, I must keep it firmly planted where it stands and attempt to drift through my day in this allergy fog. The imbalance this is causing me is unsettling, because I am not steady on my feet on a good day, and I have an intense hate/hate relationship with pain. I have stubbed my toe and bruised my left shin twice already, so you can see where the day is leading!
The twins have decided that today they do not want to get along, and have proceeded to torture me with back and forth taunting all morning. One minute it is Payton crying and running to me, and the next it is Brooklyn. Unless they are hitting I feel that they should deal with it amongst themselves, and so you can imagine the carousel of crying, running, and being sent on their way!
I just want to climb in bed and feel sorry for myself, but am getting nowhere near that goal, and complaining is certainly not being helpful. With no fever, no cough and no excuses, I must barrel through my day until that blissful moment when Chad turns off the living room TV, or puts down the book and asks, "wanna go to bed?". I look forward to that everyday, but today, it will surely have a magical quality to it! Why wait for that moment you ask? Why not go to bed before him, or take a nap? Well, my sweet husband goes to work Monday through Friday, regardless of how sick or tired he is, or if he has a fever, or is just suffering from allergies. I watch my cousin's baby, so there is the first and most obvious reason for no nap, but the second is that I feel horribly guilty taking a nap when the poor man is trudging along out in the elements, feeling the same way I do. If he came home and plopped himself on the couch and did nothing I would probably not feel so bad, but he comes home and helps me referee the girls and get dinner started and pick up the daily disaster that is our living room after the kids go to bed. I also do not go to bed without him because we get so little time together as it is, I don't want to waste it sleeping in another room when I could be up talking his ear off. We are both enthusiastic talkers, and so always have plenty to say! He is also a human furnace, and our room is cold !
I sat down to write this as an escape from the girls and all of their bickering, and amazingly not once since I have been sitting here has a fight broken out! They just came out of their room holding hands, to show me a "magical leaf" for their ponies that helps them to fly! It is just a silk leaf from the cats scratching tree(yes, I have ugly trees for the sole purpose of entertaining the cat), but until today I was totally in the dark about their magical qualities! No wonder they please the cat the way they do! Well, I have to go make lunch for these two little beauties, have a great day!

Glove Update!

Well, the deed is done, and it wasn't half as terrible as I am sure my sweet husband imagined it would be! So, my father-in-law is now sporting a fresh band-aid(minus any cool cartoon characters, we go through band-aids too fast for anything high-dollar), and Chad can take a deep breath and move on!

"Wear gloves, I'm serious." :0

This morning I am going to be doing something that after today will never be spoken of again. I will start by saying Chad thinks I am crazy, and all I have as a rebuttal to that accusation is that maybe I am! My father-in-law has asked me to help him remove a medical object that was inserted into his neck for drainage reasons. Lets not get into the details any further than that, for those of you with weak stomachs, but my dear husband has insisted that if I am going to do this that I MUST wear gloves. He is obviously much more affected by the thought of this than I am, because three times last night and twice again this morning he made me promise I would wear gloves. He refused to talk about it any further, just those little ominous comments, "Wear gloves, I'm serious.". I am slightly amused by his trepidation, because usually the man is Mr. Tough Guy when it comes to wounds and stitches and basically any kind of bodily fluid. Well, that is not entirely true, because he can't handle vomit or toddler diapers that contain #2, so maybe I have an altered perception of how tough he really is. I guess the man can only handle his own wounds and various bodily fluid. Just goes to show you that no matter how big they are, sometimes you need a woman to do the job right, and in this particular case, to do it at all! He got a phone call the same afternoon requesting his services while his Dad moves this weekend, and I guess good ol' Dad called the right kid for the various jobs he needed performed. Why am I always the recipient of such calls? I must have the equivalent of a neon sign that blinks the message over and over, "I cannot say no, so ask me!". Still, the color of Chad's face when he gravely glove-commanded me was worth saying yes! I love that silly man!!

Why I shouldn't have to do laundry.....

I turned the corner of the hallway today with a big basket full of laundry, and ran right into a hysterical Payton. I tripped over her and sent the basket flying in a vain attempt to keep it from landing on her head. Well, it wasn't completely in vain, because it only landed on her legs, which were horizontal with the ground, and not on her pretty little head. Small victory. I did however manage to hit the wall behind me, because in my effort to lunge the laundry basket forward, I had to throw my body weight backwards, and my legs were just not prepared for the sudden shift. Other than a bruise on my leg(there is a baby gate resting against the wall I fell into) and clean clothes all over the floor, I am fine, and bruises are nothing new for me, I run into everything. I probably got tied up in the umbilical cord trying to free myself from my mother, you should hear my husband sigh when he hears me or sees me tripping over something. It's like "here she goes again". I will even yell out to him on occasion, "remember I tripped over that shoe when this bruise shows up!". You see, there are often bruises on my shins and sometimes the backs of my arms I can't remember getting, and that bugs him to no end. It doesn't help that I am like one giant banana. But I digress.

Payton was running full speed around that corner to tell on Brooklyn. Apparently Brookie and Payton were having a discussion about birthday cakes and cards. Payton has been all about birthdays lately, talking about hers and what kind of cake she wants(chocolate elephant cake with giraffe decorations) and what color she wants her presents to be(pink and purple and green and orange). She is really very excited to turn 4, she wants to be a big girl so bad, I just know this one is going to break my heart come the first day of Kindergarten! Anyway, it seems Brooklyn started to tell Payton that her birthday was coming up, and not Payton's. Just being mean, Brookie likes to get a reaction out of Payton, and Payton never disappoints! I was in the middle of reassuring the puddle of Payton in my arms that it was going to be her birthday too(still sitting on the floor of the hallway mind you) when Brooklyn comes out of my room and walks right up to us and says, " No Payton, its not your birthday, its mine!" I corrected her, and she just responds with a small "Oh" , but then when I turned to Payton(who was reduced to a pile of tears and gibberish......again) that she shouldn't listen to Brooklyn and yes it was her birthday, they were born on the same day, I look up and catch Brooklyn not saying anything, but shaking her head back and forth very, very dramatically as I was talking!! The child was reinforcing her lie by implying that I was the one doing the lying!! All of this behind my back as I am trying to calm her sister down from the fit she caused. That child is devious, and we are starting to suspect, some kind of maniacal genius, out to control the world.
I got Payton calmed down, and thought I had the incident resolved. I sent them both into the backyard to play, and stopped just around the corner while they were putting on their shoes, in case either one needed some help. Well, Payton needed help all right, but not with her shoes! The minute I was out of sight, Brooklyn leans over Payton's shoulder and whispers, " My birthday, you don't have one". Chalk this one up to Payton though, because she just turned her little head around and screeched right into Brooklyn's stunned face, "IT IS MY BIRTHDAY BE QUIET!!", then she went back to her shoes, and the problem was apparently handled. They went out to play and I haven't heard about birthdays in about two hours. Brooklyn does not handle retaliation well, so hopefully Payton will start to take these matters into her own hands. They don't hit much, but do frequently resort to yelling right up into each others faces simultaneously. You can imagine THAT joyful noise. It's the most fun in the car when I can't get to them, but at least that doesn't happen very often. Lucky for them.

In case I am drawing Brooklyn in a bad light, she is a very obedient, sweet girl to everyone...........everyone but Payton. I think she flexes her mean muscles on Payton simply because she has always been able to, but lately Payton has turned the tide, and more and more we catch her returning some of the favor. They also get along far more often than they fight, but usually their fights are much funnier than their tea parties or their pony villages!

I love you Mommy

My precious Brooklyn is not feeling well, she has a fever and is all stuffy. Whenever one of my girls is sick, they get to sit with Mommy all of the time, and they get extra special attention from me, being allowed to bug me for even the simplest of things. Sydney says it's our "sick rule", and she tells people things like, "ya, I was sick, but it was good, because I got Mommy all to myself almost the whole time." Well, the twins are apparently picking up on this unspoken rule quickly, because today after I gave Brookie her medicine I made her a cup of warm tea with honey, and she climbed up into my lap. Payton came over and Brooklyn said, "No Payton, I'm sick, you have to wait for Mommy".( it sounded more like," No payon, I'b ick, you hab to ate bor Bommy") Payton climbed up anyway and snuggled in on the other side of me. I have to tell you, that is heaven having each twin snuggled up on opposite sides of me, just enjoying each other and the quiet. Brooklyn leaned her head on my shoulder and looked up at me with her beautiful flushed face and said, " I love you Mommy, you make me feel all better when you hold me."(again, imagine it said with a stuffy nose, so cute!) I cried! I know, I am a hopeless sap, but come on, how sweet is that? I was thinking back to when we first found out that I was having twins, and how so many people had something discouraging to say, normally along the lines of how hard it was going to be, or how expensive. I don't think any of them meant anything by their carelessness, and despite it Chad and I always felt amazingly blessed. We had both wanted three children, but knew this was going to be our last pregnancy. We were overjoyed to discover that God had given us our hearts desire despite ourselves! And so each time I have a quiet moment with these little gifts from God, I am overcome with the simple fact of their shared existence. Could we have had one without the other? Surely not. So this is just my heartfelt thankfulness for God's amazing grace. After all, I didn't deserve even one of these children, let alone three! I will take my shack on the Rock over a castle in the sand any day!

Going Shirtless......

I have just discovered something wonderful about having all girl children, something maybe you won't find as convenient as I do, but I figured I would share it anyway, you can always stop reading! I was cleaning my kitchen sink, and decided it needed a good scrub with some comet. I got the comet out and my scrub sponge and slathered the first side before I realized my terrible error; I still had my good shirt on. Now, if you have ever seen me you know I have these ridiculous boobs sticking off of my chest, and my belly is right there with them, grazing the edge of the sink every time I lean over it. I was in a huge hurry because we were leaving, and so I just whipped off my shirt and cleaned the sink in my pretty lace bra!! No one batted an eye except my husband, and that was simply in appreciation. :) Now I do not recommend doing household chores in your pretty lace underthings, but in a pinch I don't have to worry about causing embarrassment or confusion by whipping off my shirt! Ya for girls!

Fur Chunk Mystery Solved!

Lately I have been finding little rolled up balls of dog hair on the floor of our house. Now maybe this is normal for some of you, but our dog isn't supposed to shed, and hasn't up until now as far as we know. Even if she was to shed, what kind of dog sheds large balled up lumps of fur? I would never want to own that retched creature! I am sure it goes without saying that this hairball development was causing a great deal of extra vacuuming, not to mention confusion. Well, today I have figured out the mystery! It seems that the cat, our itty bitty kitty, has been ripping chunks of fur from the dogs face when they play. I cannot be sure that all of the hair is from her face, but since I have picked up balls of it with my hands on several occasions, we are going to go ahead and say that's where they originated, just so I can feel better, because I have seen the cat attacking the dogs rear and face with equal measure. I usually find said hair chunks either in front of my bedroom door(they sleep there together because we won't let them in), and in the kitchen scattered around the cats climbing tree. I was baffled by the locations of the dog hair, but starting to suspect the cat had something to do with it. So I set out to discover how and maybe why. I caught them at last! I got up really early this morning, and actually got to witness the cat ripping hair from the dogs head and then spitting it to the side before going in for another swipe. The dog doesn't seemed fazed by this, so I guess I have to learn to just live with the little hair gifts they leave. At least they get along, how many people have a dog and a cat that wrestle?

Bean Burning 101

Tonight we had fajitas for dinner, and I tell you that to tell you this: I burned some beans. Have you ever burned beans? Don't, that's all I have to say to you. Don't. Chad is really into Mexican food, and so over the years I have tried to make certain dishes from scratch so that they would taste close to what he orders in the restaurant. I have finally gotten the rice to where it is pretty much the same as restaurant rice, and so Chad wanted to try making homemade refried beans.
He picked out the beans, and then today when he got home he soaked them for a few hours, and then it was my turn to try to turn them into something delicious. Well, I started too late, and the beans were still cooking in the liquid when everything else was ready, so I used canned beans and we sat down to eat. Only, I forgot about the beans boiling on the stove, and after dinner Chad and I got to talking on the couch. Payton comes into the room and gets this hilarious look on her face, kind of scrunched up and disgusted looking, and she asks, " Mommy what stinks?". I looked up and smelled, and then cried out, "the beans!" and almost sent her flying as I bolted into the kitchen. Calling them beans at this point is almost a lie, because what was under the lid of the pot was more like burning poo poo. It was this gross lump of black and brown lumps, all of the liquid was gone and I am pretty sure the pot has seen it's last supper. Poor pot, it didn't ask to be left on the stove, and now it's cooking days have been cut so tragically short. So all of the girls got a laugh at my expense, and Chad very diplomatically stated that maybe he should be in charge of the beans next time while I did everything else, or else canned beans would be just fine. The Mexican food night dinner duties doled out, we are left to face this weird burned bean fart smell that I can't get rid of. Maybe I should fry some bacon, because that might just cover it up, what lingers like the smell of bacon? I mean food wise, because we all have that someone special in our family that can clear a house after a trip to the bathroom! :) I did however earn the delightful new nickname "beautiful bean burner", bestowed upon me by my ever clever husband! My eyes are burning as I write this, it can't really be good to inhale burned beans. So the lesson in today's story is a watched pot might never boil, but an unsupervised pot will burn the beans!!

So many S's in Sleeplessness....

Another night of sleeplessness. Wow, there are a lot of S's in sleeplessness. E's too.
I know I should probably pray, and I even tried half-heartedly when I got out of bed, but I am so darn tired I can't think straight. Though I am typing this blog, so maybe I am lying to myself just a tad. I won't bore you with self-analyzing! I need to go to bed, I have to get up at 5:00 a.m. tomorrow. Let me give you a funny for your time though.

The twins often fall asleep in the car on the way home from picking Chad up from work every afternoon. Today was no exception. What was funny is that earlier today the girls had been lining their ponies along the ledge by the front door, and Payton would let out this funny little squeal of distress every time one of them would fall off and hit the floor. She would race around the wall to rescue them, and then Brookie would just knock them off again(there were a LOT of ponies on the ledge). Typical scenario with those two, nothing special. The funny part came when we pulled into the garage and it was time to wake them up to go inside. Chad took the baby and Brooklyn and went into the house with Sydney, and I went to get Payton. (I always get Payton, because she tends to be fussy when woken up) I open the back door and shake her shoulder, leaning over her to unbuckle the seat belt. She lurches forward and smacks me in the face reaching for something, and she yells, " aahhh, get them get them get them!!"( you have to imagine it in her little Minnie Mouse voice to get the full effect). I shushed her and then asked her who I needed to get, and she looked through me with glazed eyes and started reciting the names of the ponies that had fallen earlier! Freaky accurate too. I know, because I played with My Little Ponies when I was little, and I do now too, I like Sparkleworks :). She didn't calm down until we got inside and I showed her that all of the ponies were still on the ledge safe and sound and packed in like sardines. Apparently she had a nightmare about Brooklyn pushing them all off of the wall ledge.


OK, I read over that and it's just not as funny as I thought, but I have to go to bed, so a sub-par funny will have to do

P.S. I will pray right now, just in case you were worried I was going to shirk my duties. :)

Marginally Maternal

I watch my cousins 9 wk old Monday thru Thursday, and the twins have been good about making sure he has his pacifier and that his blanket is tucked in tight in his car seat. I have taken this as a great thing regarding Payton, because she isn't as nurturing as Syd and Brookie, which is fine, but it's still nice to see growth. Well, today I was holding the baby and singing a silly song, and at the end I would lean him towards Brooklyn and she would kiss the top of his head and giggle. Cute right? Well Payton walks in, and so at the end of the song I lean the baby towards her sweet face and Brookie squeals, "kiss his head!". Payton backs up quickly and yells, "EW! he throws up from his head!" and runs away. So much for growth!! I had no idea spit up had such a lingering effect on her. She wouldn't come near me again until after he left, and then she inspected my shirt for spit up before she would agree to climb into my lap. The girl has no problem expressing herself, that's for sure.

I have to tell you about my sweet Sydney and her conscience. Everyday when she climbs into the car after school I ask her how her day went. Most days she says fine and then launches into a frenzied monologue about what she had for lunch and what she did for recess, etc. If anything at all happened(and I mean anything even slightly negative) she will shake her head and look into her lap. Then that always follows with " Mom, I just had to tell you, it was pressing on my heart so hard....." and then the offending behavior. This happens even if it was something like she got caught doodling on her work paper when she should have been doing math. Not a criminal offense. Today she got into the car and answered with the normal "Good". She stared out the window as I told her about something funny the twins did, and all of the sudden she bursts into tears. She tells me, "God is pushing on my heart Mommy, and I just have to tell you, I can't take it anymore!" I brace for something bad like study hall or formal warning, and the dear child tells me the teacher caught her passing a note for one friend to another, and she said her name in the front of the class when she told everyone not to pass notes!! I love this kid! Now lets just hope this penchant for honesty carries through until high school, and we are golden!

Questionable Beach Practices...:)

OK, the way three year old's process the information pouring in from the world around them never ceases to amaze me! Today on the way back from dropping Syd off, I hear Brooklyn and Payton having a heated debate about where the dog should go poop. Payton insisted that dogs go poop on the grass, and that they were generally disgusting in nature. Brooklyn kept proclaiming that dogs should go poop in the "beach", and the argument escalated until Brookie was reduced to yelling, "poop in the beach" over and over. I ended the fight with a threat of a time out, but I couldn't let go of the strange proclamation of beach pooping! Once we got home I asked Brookie what she meant by Ko-Ko needing to poop in the "beach". She actually laughed at my silliness, and pointed to the cat's litter box, "The little beach Mommy, the one you bring home in the box for Sasha to poop in, then she wouldn't be disgusting!" and then she danced off calling for Payton, probably to share my ignorance over a cup of pretend tea.

no holding your breath :)

Hello friends! All two of you! I just started this, and I cannot promise I will write faithfully, if at all, but I wanted to leave something to thank you for inviting me to share your stories!
Tara