Playing Board Games With Preschoolers

...Otherwise entitled, "Praying for Patience."

While I was playing Candy Land with the twins today, I think time slowed down.

In SUPER S-L-O-W M-O-T-I-O-N we crawled along the board with our game pieces, only to be sent back again and again.

"Oh no! I drew Mr. Minty!" (GROAN)


The whole thing was further complicated by:

1) Little Boy's threats to jump to the finish line regardless of the cards' directions. (Him: "I win!" Me: "Um. You can't win while the rest of us are out of the room.")

2) Little Girl's ill-wishing of her brother. ("I hope he gets Plumpy!" "Please let him get stuck in Molasses Swamp!")

We had to reshuffle the cards THREE times. I thought the game would never end.

Still, at least game-playing teaches them good sportsmanship. Right?

Little Boy paused in his gloating over winning to reassure me. "You losed, Mom! But you did good losing."

Birthdays birthdays birthdays

I have always done birthday parties at home for my kids; I have so many children that it's a bad idea to set a Chuck-E-Cheese kind of precendent. We'd go broke pretty quickly that way.

With my older children I put lots of effort into their parties to make up for the lack of money spent. I planned and organized their birthdays like Julie the Love Boat cruise director.

(image from hallk.blogspot.com)

For example: When Boo turned six, she chose a Native American theme. She hand-decorated each invitation with a drawing of an Indian princess.

At the party, we made feathered headdresses, and beaded necklaces, went on a "bear hunt" and had a "papoose race." Also we played "rain dance" and I read a story complete with hand motions. The goody bags were also Native-American themed and designed to hold the crafts the children made. All of these things I created myself from dollar-store materials and a lot of time in the weeks leading up to the party.

But for the twins' fifth birthday last weekend, I didn't do any of that. I'm just too tired for that stuff these days.

Here are the preparations I made:

I rented a bouncy house. I made cupcakes. I invited every kid they know.

That's it.

About twenty-five kids descended on my house and ran amok for two hours. They bounced in the inflatable castle, played in the dress-up chest, and enjoyed the twins' toys. They ate cupcakes and ice cream. They "assisted" with gift distribution and opening, and then happily played with all the new toys.

The place was utter chaos. Moms looked on in horror as I did nothing to corral the craziness. Julie from the Love Boat would have died of shame.

I think the kids had a great time, though.

The Costco Invasion

I took the twins to Costco.

This was probably a mistake. It was crowded, as is usual for this area, but the sample ladies were few and far between. (Insert sad face here.)

(image from members.brentwoodcoolsprings.org)

Even though I had the twins confined to the cart they were managing to wreak havoc by raking their arms along the shelves, beating each other on the head with shoes, and yelling "I DON'T LIKE THAT!!!" when we managed to find an actual sample food to taste.

Highlight of the visit: I was contemplating a dipslay of pomegranates, wondering if we could really eat a CASE of them before they went bad --which is the sort of burning question Costco engenders in you every few feet as you shop.

An employee said to me, "Ma'am, watch out for that spill there. You might slip."

(image from growingyoungereachday.wordpress.com)

This was his polite way of saying, "Ma'am, your son is pouring purple yogurt from his sample cup all over the floor and there is a trail behind you up to this spot. Please stop gazing at the pomegranates like they're the Mona Lisa and make him stop."

I said, "Oh, I'm sorry! That's our spill."

He did not say, "Obviously." Instead he said, "I'll get you a paper towel."

So he helped us out AND cleaned up the spill. Also he actually talked nicely to the twins ("Hey buddy; is that good yogurt?") and continued to smile at me until I left.

This guy probably deserved a Polite Employee of the Year Award.

Or perhaps sainthood.

Twins For Life

Little Girl asked me if she and her brother would still be twins after they'd grown bigger.

Me: Yes, you'll still be twins.
LG: No, I mean when we're BIG!
Me: Yes, you'll still be twins.
LG: I mean when we're BIG. Like ET and GG!
Me: You'll still be twins.
LG: (not giving up) NO!! WHEN WE'RE BIG LIKE ET AND GG!!!
Boo: (breaking in, exasperated by this repetitive conversation)
         YES! You will always be twins whether you like it or not!

There was a little silence. Then....

LG: I don't like it.

Games Mommy Plays

Today I played a full round of that fun game called “Where the Heck is That Awful Smell Coming From?”

I’m very experienced in this game, having played many times. It can be performed in different locations throughout the house or car; today’s edition was held in the twins’ room.

Last night I tried playing only the short version, but the removal of a sippy cup full of curdled chocolate milk and the slimy ooze-covered book it was resting on (both extracted from under Little Boy’s bed) failed to produce the desired end-game result.

In other words, the twins’ room still really reeked.

So today I attacked the problem in earnest. I picked up absolutely everything from the floor, then vacuumed and shampooed the carpet. I also moved all the furniture, vacuuming and shampooing underneath, concentrating especially under Little Boy’s bed. I went over every inch of that room.

The twins’ room looks really clean now.

Unfortunately, IT STILL SMELLS BAD!

Come to think of it, this game isn’t really all that fun….

(image from clipartof.com)

Ma'am, is that your son?!

This is a phrase I hate to hear when out in public with the twins.

Also, "Ma'am, is that your daughter?!" Just as bad.

I really really REALLY want to say "No" when I am asked that question.

Because that question (either version) means I am about to be reprimanded by some random adult.

(image from http://memegenerator.net/)

I could be remembering wrong, but this never used to happen with my older kids. However, it happens all the time with the twins.

Here's a partial list of all the people who have scolded me in public about the twins in their brief four years of life:

1. Security guard at the zoo (Your daughter is chasing the peacocks!)

2. Security guard at the children's museum (Your son is running!)

3. Security guard at the mall (Your daughter is yelling too much!)

4. Other mommy at the park (Your son just bit my son! [This one I actually don't think he did.])

5. Other mommy at McDonald's (Your son spit from the top of the play structure! [Now that I believe!])

6. Lady at the next table at Arby's (Your daughter spit on me! [Unfortunately also true.])

7. Lifeguard at the pool (Your son is climbing on the decorative boulders!)

8. Lifeguard at the beach (Your kids are in the ocean! [Actually I didn't know what he was upset about, but I looked appropriately contrite.])

9. Principal of the Middle School (Your toddlers are too loud for this school concert!)

10. Security guard at the library (Your twins are having a tantrum! [See blog post on that one here.])

I would close with a phrase about how persecuted the twins are, but honestly, they probably deserve it.

Except the one from the library security guard. She was just mean.

Twins are Cute. Sometimes.....

The twins got haircuts on Monday.

I even went all out and let Little Girl choose hairbows from the overpriced selection they have at "Pigtails and Crewcuts," where you pay extra to get your kid's hair cut because the place is so darn cute.

http://www.pigtailsandcrewcuts.com

And they have a train table to play with, which can be worth its weight in gold if there's a long wait.

So Little Boy and Little Girl came out looking pretty cute.

Okay, all together now:


"Awwww!"


"They're SO cute!"





Until we got into the car and they started fighting.

I don't know who started it, but they basically pummelled each other all the way home while I yelled, "Stop it!" ineffectively from the front seat.

It's not that long of a drive. But it sure felt long.

When we got home both of them were crying, their hair was mussed, and the lovely handmade hairbows were on the floor with suspiciously large amount of curling blonde hair still stuck in them.

But at least they were cute for five minutes, right?

Preschool Gymnastics

The twins go to a preschool gymnastics class on Friday afternoons.

They really like it, and I really like having them tire themselves out while somebody else has to watch them. This is why I'm willing to pay for a college student "coach" to do things like teach them the hokey-pokey and let them jump on a trampoline for forty-five minutes.

A couple of weeks ago, however, there was a little problem. I was sitting in the nice quiet parents' waiting area working on my laptop and the twins appeared in front of me yelling, "Mommy! Mommy!"

I looked up in astonishment as the coach came running behind them. "They want you to take them to the bathroom," she explained, slightly winded from chasing the twin terrors.

I raised my eyebrows at her. The twins jumped up and down yelling excitedly, "Mommy! I have to go POTTY!"

Correctly interpreting my expression, the coach said, "I can take them myself, but they want you."

"We want YOU Mommy! We want YOU!" the twins echoed.

I looked at the coach. "I can watch your laptop?" she suggested helpfully. I gave in and took the twins to the bathroom, but I wasn't happy about it.

After all, I did the math. I'm paying almost fifteen bucks an hour PER KID for this class. For that amount of money, the coach should be able to take them to the potty and LEAVE ME ALONE. But I let it go for the moment.

Then it happened again the next week. I had been sitting peacefully at my laptop less than five minutes before they appeared in front of me again, bouncing and yelling. They didn't even use the potty excuse this time; they just yelled ,"Mommy! Mommy!" and looked pleased with themselves.

The coach came puffing up behind them. It was obvious they had escaped without her knowledge this time. I thought to myself, "Oh, HECK no! This stops right now."

There followed a charming scene in which I dragged the twins back into their class in full view of all the horrified moms and dads. Little Girl in particular screamed and cried in protest most convincingly. The coach followed us, looking on in round-eyed shock. I set my face grimly and deposited the shreiking, struggling pair in class where the other kids and the assistant coach also stared at us.

I shut the gate to the preschool area and marched back to my laptop, ignoring Little Girl wailing behind me as the coach tried to cheerily cajole her back into the circle. Everyone in the parents' area tried to pretend they hadn't just witnessed Horrible Mean Mommy Drags Twins to Gymnastics Class and avoided my eyes.

In my defense, Little Girl quit crying almost right after I disappeared from her view and it was no longer to her advantage to appear traumatized. And they both STAYED IN CLASS.

I groused to myself about the coach letting the kids escape like that. But the truth is, I can't keep track of them either.

Here's Little Boy escaping from the backyard. I can't take my eyes off the twins for a second!

Unless I'm paying someone ELSE not to take her eyes off them....

You two are trying my patience....

So over the past week I have had four different people say to me "You're so patient," when watching me with my four-year-old twins.

By which I suppose they mean, "You must be really patient, since those little monsters are still breathing."

I have of course been demurring, "Oh, no, I'm really not all that patient."


But after the fourth person I started to think, "Hey! Maybe I am patient! Wow!"

This is called tempting fate. I don't recommend it.

Because as soon as you think  you've got some virtue down pat, you are going to really get pounded.

So the twins have been extra-trying recently.

This culminated today in an extremely embarrassing incident. This incident is something I would never tell anyone I know about.

So of course, I'm going to put it on my blog for everyone to see. (Since I'm crazy and all.)

I took the twins out to lunch with a friend of mine today. I think I ordered something a little too spicy because I ended up feeling a little queasy later.

Um... I'll try to describe this as delicately as possible.

So I was having ...ahem... intestinal discomfort. I was required to go with the twins to a public bathroom. And then wait for them both to use the single toilet before me.

Patience,  I told myself. Remember patience!

Then when it was finally my turn and I sat down, Little Girl CLOSED THE LID OF THE TOILET BEHIND ME. As I was sitting down.

I'm not even kidding.

You cannot imagine how gross this was.

There's nothing to try your patience like a public bathroom full of poop. And a pair of preschool commentators talking up a storm while you clean it all up.

It was a bad scene. Nobody witnessing it would have thought me in any way virtuous.

And yes, the twins are both still breathing at the end of the day today.

But do me a favor? Don't call me patient because of it.

(Cartoon above from http://www.savagechickens.com)

They're Officially Not Babies Anymore

The twins turned four over the weekend.

We had a BLOWOUT party: bouncy house, face-painting, bubble machine, cupcakes, and Hawaiian punch. I think I invited like forty kids.

Fortunately they didn't all come.

We settled on the "carnival" theme since it's difficult to have a superhero AND princess-themed party.

These balloons are Disney Princess on one side and Spiderman on the other.

Anyways, now that the twins are older,  I'm going to stop calling them "the babies" or "Baby Boy and Baby Girl." They don't like it.

For the past several months they've been getting mad when someone calls them babies.

As ET said, "They prefer the term 'agely-challenged'."

So, let me officially introduce my four-year-olds.... THE TWINS!

Little Boy

Little Girl

These are pictures of them eating cupcakes I brought to their preschool class. Yes, I bought bakery cupcakes piled with icing made from artificial, mouth-staining dyes.

You're welcome, Other Preschool Moms.

And by the way, OPM's, thanks for the shredded paper in the class Easter baskets. And the whistles in the Halloween treat bags.

We're even now.

Gross Stuff

When you have little kids, you have to put up with lots of gross stuff.

I just happen to have a couple of fun examples from the past week.

And, no, these are NOT about poop. Check out one of last month's posts for that story.

(image from http://www.shutterstock.com)

A Short Story:
Baby Boy hollered from the backseat, "I have a booger on my finger! I have a booger on my finger!" over and over until I reached back there and got it off his finger.

Ew.

(My husband said, "He's got a sister on either side of him, and he doesn't know where to wipe a booger?')

A Longer Story:

I walked out to the park down the street with the twins and they ran ahead of me.

Actually I was delayed by Boo yelling out the window at me, "What's nine times eight?" and me yelling back, "I'm NOT giving you the answers to your homework problems!"

(Translation: Mommy is not actually sure what nine times eight is.)

Anyways, by the time I got to the park the twins were happily munching pretzels. As were the other four or five neighborhood kids there.

I asked, "Where did you get the pretzels?"

The twins indicated one of the neighbor kids around their own age. "M gave them to us."

I said, "Oh! You should tell M thank you for sharing her pretzels!"

M said, "They're not my pretzels."

I said, "Then whose are they?"

"I dunno. I found them on the ground," M said matter-of-factly, and then walked away, still chewing her own pretzel.

Ewwwww.

We are an embarrassment to Boo

Last Sunday we had lunch at Panda Express after church.

Yes. We live in the land of Authentic Asian Food, and we're eating Panda Express. I know. We are WAY too white-bread.

(Actually that's just me --and the twins-- the Unadventurous Eaters. My older kids will eat almost anything.)

(image from wikipedia)

Anyhow, they didn't have any big tables free, so we had to split up and sit at two separate tables.

Therefore ET and GG got to sit at a table by themselves and pretend they weren't with us, which pleased them enormously, I'm sure.

And Boo was stuck at a table with me and the twins, which embarrassed her enormously.

Baby Boy kept staring avidly at a little girl next to us who had an assortment of bracelets, which he seemed to be considering swiping, and Baby Girl kept calling out everything she said at the top of her lungs. And she was saying things like, "I'd better PEEPEE!" and "There's a BOOGER in my nose! TWO boogers!"

Boo tried to hide under the table a few times and looked longingly at the (two-person) booth where her sisters were seated a lot. She said to me, "I wish I could just close my eyes and the babies would disappear."

I think she even tried the eye-closing thing, but to no avail. She was stuck with us.

If Boo is this embarrassed at age nine, I shudder to think what happens when SHE gets to be the teenager.

Well, at least by then the twins will be older as well...

...and better able to think of embarrassing things to do to her, of course.

A Short Drama

The Setting:
The McDonald's Playland

The Time:
A weekday afternoon

The Characters:
Solo Dad with Little Girl and Snugli Baby
(A bewildered-looking man with a baby strapped to his chest, trying vainly to get his daughter to sit down and eat something.)

(image from wikipedia)

Good Family
(consisting of Good Mom, Good Dad and Good Kid. I call them this because they were all sitting so nicely eating their food, and no one was screaming or trying to escape to the playground[Good Kid]. Or back to work[Good Dad].)

Random Kid
(This was a kid who seemed to have no parents and appeared only as a face through the windows or netting of the playland equipment.)

Me, Baby Boy, and Baby Girl
(I don't even bother to try making my kids sit down and eat. I mean, why even PRETEND we're here for the food?)

McDonald's Employee
(I think she's pretty self-explanatory)

The Scene:
I had taken Baby Girl and Baby Boy to the playland after preschool as a reward for "staying on green" at school. (Meaning they were good all day. Relatively speaking, I'm sure.)

Both twins had disappeared immediately into the plastic tubes of the playland, and I was booting up my laptop in preparation to do some writing. Before I had even opened my document, they were back in front of me yelling.

The Action:
Baby Boy: There's POO POO in the playground!

Baby Girl: There's POO POO! Wipe my legs!

Me: (totally shocked) What?!

Baby Girl: It's POO POO!

Baby Boy: There's POO POO in the playground!

Me: (aware that Good Family is now staring at us openmouthed, and dreading the answer to this question but asking it anyways) Did you poo poo, Baby Girl?

Baby Girl: NO! Wipe my legs!

Baby Boy: There's POO POO in the playground!

Good Mom: (wrinkling her nose at us, muttering to Good Dad) Ew! I think I smell it!

Me: (frantically checking over Baby Girl's body) Where? Where is the poo poo?

Baby Boy: (turning to run back inside the plastic tube) I'll show you!

Me: NO!! DON'T!! (noticing that Baby Girl indeed has smudges of brown on her feet and skirt, but no poo poo on the inside of her clothing or underwear and therefore could not be the culprit) Who poo pooed?

Baby Girl and Baby Boy: That little girl did it! (They point in unison to the door)

Solo Dad: (holding Little Girl firmly by the arm) Why didn't you TELL me you had to go?

Little Girl: (crying) I don't know....

(Exit Solo Dad, Little Girl and Snugli Baby)

Baby Girl: Wipe my legs!

Me: (relieved that my child did not befoul the playplace, but repulsed by the fact that she's wearing another kid's excrement) Okay. Hold still a minute.

Good Mom: (looking a little more kindly at me now that we've established the origin of the poo poo) Oh dear.

Good Dad: Finish your food, son. We're going to have to go.

Me: (trying with difficulty to clean Baby Girl with McDonald's napkins) Wait. Where's your brother?

Baby Girl: There's POO POO! That little girl did it!

Me: (standing up and yelling into the plastic tube) Baby Boy! Baby Boy! Come down!

Good Mom: Oh dear.

(Baby Boy's face appears next to Random Kid's in the top window of the tube)

Me: (getting frantic) Baby Boy! Come down!

Baby Girl: There's POO POO! Wipe my legs!

Me: (turning around to discover Baby Girl has taken off her skirt and is holding up the dirty hem) ACK!!!

Baby Boy: (appearing at the base of the tube) There's POO POO in the playground!

Me: (snatching him up and inspecting him) Yes. I know. DON'T GO BACK IN THERE.

Baby Girl: That little girl did it!

Me: I know. It was an accident, I'm sure.

Baby Girl: There's POO POO!

Baby Boy: It was an accident!

McDonald's Employee: (standing in the doorway) ATTENTION CUSTOMERS! The playplace is now closed! There has been an accident! Please exit the playplace!

(Random Kid silently slides down the tube.)

Good Mom: Oh dear.

(Exit Random Kid.)

Me: Let's go get cleaned up in the bathroom.

Baby Boy: There's POO POO!

Baby Girl: It was an accident!

Baby Boy: That little girl did it!

Me: Yes. I know.

Good Dad: Okay son! Let's go!

(Good Kid throws away his trash without protest and follows his parents.)

(Exit Good Family)

Baby Girl: There's POO POO!

Baby Boy: It was an accident!

Baby Girl: That little girl did it!

(Exit Me, Baby Boy, and Baby Girl)

END OF SCENE

Well, it's not exactly Shakespeare, is it?

When they get too quiet...

The other day I was working on the computer and didn't notice that the twins had gotten a little TOO quiet.

Well, maybe I did notice. I just chose to think, "Oh yay! They're letting me accomplish something for once!"

I know. Total wishful thinking.

I chose to ignore that little warning bell in my head saying: Quiet Twins=Twins doing BAD things!!

This took me over an hour to clean up. Approximately three times the amount of uninterrupted time I'd spent at the computer.

I guess you always gotta pay....

Twins in the Bathroom

If you were inside a public restroom when I came in with my three-year-old twins, here is what you’d hear:

Me: Okay, Let’s go potty!
Baby Boy: Me first!
Baby Girl: No me! Me! ME!!!!!
Me: There’s five potties here; just choose one each.
Baby Boy: This is MY potty!
Baby Girl: NO!!!!!
(sounds of struggling)
Me: All the potties are the same.
Baby Girl: I want the BIG potty!
Baby Boy: No, me!
Me: All of the potties are big. Okay, you go in here and you go in here!
Baby Girl: I need HELP! I NEED HELP!!!!!
Me: Okay, up you go.
Baby Girl: (at top volume) I’M GOING PEEPEE!!!!!
Me: Here let me help you, too.
Baby Boy: NO! Let me do it! I’ll do it!
Me: All right. Get up there.
(sounds of scuffling)
Baby Boy: I can do it! Let me do it!
Me: I’m letting you do it. Just get on up there.
Baby Boy: I did it!
Me: Good boy! Now aim it down. Aim it down! AIM IT DOWN!!!
Baby Boy: Sorry Mommy.
Me: (Sigh) It’s okay. Next time just aim it down, okay?
Baby Boy: Sorry I peepeed on you Mommy.
Me: It’s okay.
Baby Girl: (Still at top volume) WIPE MY BOTTOM!
Me: Okay just a minute. I’m helping your brother with his pants.
Baby Girl: I POOPOOED! WIPE MY BOTTOM!
Me: Okay okay I’m coming.
Baby Girl: It’s a big poopoo. You see?
Baby Boy: I see the poopoo.
Me: Yes, we’re all very impressed. Now pull up your pants. Let’s wash our hands.
Baby Girl: Me first! Me! ME!!!!
Baby Boy: No me!
Me: We’re taking turns. Here, I’ll lift you up.
Baby Girl: Soap! I need SOAP!
Me: Okay, you’re done; now get a paper towel.
Baby Girl: No air! I WANT AIR!!!
Me: All right, fine. (Whooshing sound of the probably germ-filled air dryer)
Baby Boy: My turn!
Me: Okay, here’s your soap. No wait, you’ve got to catch it. One more squirt. No, don’t scoop it off the counter. We’ll try again. Catch it this time!
Baby Boy: I got soap!
Me: Good! Now let’s dry off.
Baby Girl: No! My air! MY AIR!!!
Baby Boy: I want air!
(Sound of struggling)
Me: Let your brother have a turn with the air. You’re all dry.
Baby Girl: All dry!
Me: Okay, we’re all done! Now Mommy needs an aspirin….

What Happened to November?

So some of you may be wondering how I did with NaNoWriMo last month.

And some of you may be wondering: What is a NaNoWriMo? And is it contagious?

(image from laughstub.com)

Well, November is National Novel Writing Month, and the challenge is to write a fifty-thousand word novel in thirty days. I didn’t exactly make the 50,000 word mark.

Would you like to know my final word count on the deadline, November 30th at midnight?

13,461.

I guess it’s over one-fourth of the way there….

I know, right? LAME.

There were several obstacles in my way. (And I’m not talking JUST about those five obstacles whom I birthed myself!)

For one thing, my plot just wasn’t going very far. Here’s a good way to describe it, as written by Chris Baty about his own novel:

“My NaNoWriMo novel this year was

not quite what I'd hoped.

The idea seemed great in October.

I pictured my story rocketing across November

like a cheetah, flying through the

fertile grasslands of my imagination

and leaping over everything in its path.

Instead, my book bumbled around

like a myopic sasquatch in an overgrown forest,

knocking into pine trees and spending

a fair amount of time wondering if

boiled moss could work as a coffee substitute.”

I feel your pain, Chris!

Also, there’s the problem of the death of naptime.

The Day That Naptime Died.

I think that sounds like a song.

Everybody sing! “Bye Bye! My alone time died! Since the twins escaped their cribs, on all my time they have dibs. And I spend half the day stuck in the car with my kids, since the day… that naptime… died.”

(Click here if you’re interested in reading more about the demise of naptime.)

Anyways, having the twins awake ALL DAY LONG has really thrown a monkey wrench into my writing career.

Is that the right expression? Or is it “a spanner in the works of my writing?”

Or perhaps it’s “a wad of dried Play-Doh clogging my keyboard so I CAN‘T EVEN TYPE?” (I think we’re getting warmer!)

In any case, my novel is going very slowly. But that’s okay!

In the immortal words of Dory, “Just keep swimming! Just keep swimming! Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming!”



Yes. I’ve been watching WAY too much kids’ TV…

(image from disney.wikia.com)

Whose Party IS This?

My husband took Boo and the twins to a birthday party for a three-year-old.

I didn’t go because ET also had a party she had to be taken to, and the three-year-old in question was the daughter of my husband’s friend.

He said they were going to have a bouncy house and a cotton candy machine, so it sounded like it would be pretty fun for the kids.

(image from freeextras.com)

When he came home, my husband asked me if I wanted to see the pictures and videos he’d taken. Of course I said yes, because I wanted to see how the kids had enjoyed all the fun things at the party.

I’d been sorry to miss seeing them jumping in the bouncy house, eating cotton candy, et cetera. I’d especially wanted to see the twins, who don‘t have a lot of prior birthday party experience and get super-thrilled if one of the kids in their preschool class so much as brings in cupcakes.

When my husband got out his iPod to show me the pictures and videos I was surprised, though.

They were all of HIM!

I’m totally serious. I saw shots of my husband jumping in the bouncy house, my husband eating cotton candy, and he and his friends clowning around.

I’m like, “Where’s the kids?”

He said, “They were there. See? There’s Baby Boy in the background there.”

Uh huh.

Okay. You couldn’t take ONE shot of your beautiful children enjoying the party?

Fortunately, I am facebook friends with the mom in question, who managed to get a very nice shot of Baby Boy and Baby Girl eating cotton candy. And kindly tagged me.

At least SOME of us have our priorities straight!

photo by J. Alino

The Ice Cream Man

Well, it was inevitable. The twins have been introduced to The Ice Cream Man.

I guess the only surprising thing about it is that I managed to keep them away from him until age three.

Yes. I AM mean.

I have kind of a love/hate relationship with the ice cream man anyways. As I have a strong aversion to kids begging for money every time they hear a tinkly little song, the whole concept kind of irritates me.

My own mother found the ice cream man problematic as well, since she had actually seen a kid get hit by a car while running for the ice cream truck once. (The kid wasn't killed, fortunately, but it was frightening to witness.) As a result, I was never allowed ice cream at all as a child.

Until a well-meaning neighbor introduced me to the lovely sweet cold stuff. Mmmm...

Anyways, my older kids are allowed to buy from the ice cream man but they are required to use their own money in order to avoid the whole begging thing. But until now, the twins have missed out.

Due to the fact that I never explained the whole "ice cream man" concept to them, of course.

But this weekend the twins happened to be outside riding their tricycles when the ice cream truck came on the street.

Believe me, there was NO way to hide the ice cream truck from the twins once they saw every kid in the neighborhood clustering eagerly around it.

So we got ice cream bars. They were so excited; they're STILL talking about it.

And the begging begins....

The Backyard Swamp

As I mentioned before, there’s a swamp in my backyard.

Or you could call it a mud pit.

Here’s a photo of the muddy handprints the twins decorated our fence with.

When THEIR FATHER was watching them, may I point out.

Although some trouble may have happened when I was watching them too...

Turns out it wasn't the BEST idea to let them play in the mud.....

It’s getting better though, mostly because one of the neighbors managed to convince the landscaping people to turn off the automatic sprinklers back there.

They really were not needed anyways, since it has rained enough recently. The sprinklers are only there because of the new construction here; they wanted to jump-start the grass growing.

It was really irritating though, because we had no control over the sprinklers. Like, we’d be sitting in our own backyard watching the kids play, and suddenly the sprinklers would come on.

Oh. Great. Now we’re drenched. And it’s not even raining!

The sprinkler situation got so bad that methods of sabotage were considered. I won’t reveal the exact plans…but chewing gum was involved.

But anyways, the yard is getting better now that we only have Mother Nature watering it.

And YES, we did clean off the fence. Twice.

Telephone Conferencing -- Mommy Style

So yesterday I was having a phone conference with my sixth-grade daughter’s teacher about her grades.

(Yes, the same one who informed me of Einstein’s lack of prowess in school! Click here to read about that.)

While I was talking about checking her assignments and blah blah blah, I looked up and saw Baby Girl drop a big poop on the floor next to the potty.

At the same time, Baby Boy, sitting on the adjacent potty --they have a his-and-hers set-- yelled out, “I POO-POO! Wipe my BOTTOM!”

So the whole time I was trying to have a serious conversation with an educational professional about my daughter’s schooling, I was cleaning up poop.

I am SO glad we don’t have video phones.

I’m sure GG’s teacher would agree.

(above image from aoltv.com)