It's because you're so cute

Nothing will knock you out of blogging faster than a nasty case of strep throat going around the house. As a mom, and current survivor of the aforementioned epidemic, of course I played the "Well where could they have gotten it from?" game. My guess was the McDonald's Playland, but hubby thought otherwise. We easily played the game for days, considering we couldn't do much else in our fevered stupor.

It started with Daniel the Friday before Halloween. Within 36 hours the mystery fever and sore throat were gone with only the help of juice, rest and lots of cuddles. It wasn't until a few days later when Mommy and Daddy felt the ominous ache that we thought the worst. I survived with only a horrible sore throat and very low grade fever. Daddy on the other hand, was in bed for 2 full days fighting a fever of 104! It was an easy diagnosis for the doctor and nurse with a throat swab.

Naturally the other shoe dropped and Caed got sick too. As an adult you are able to understand illness and the temporary nature of horrible symptoms much better than preschoolers. Caed, however, noted that the germs jumped on him because he was so cute. And I should have told the nurses' daddy that she was a bad girl for sticking that thing down his throat. And he nearly wrote his own prescription with the understanding that the doctor said he could have all the candy he wanted, but that to go see Mickey Mouse next month he had to take all his medicine.

Smart kid. Not much to argue with there! Yes son, germs think you're downright adorable, Daddy thought the nurse was mean too and if a Jolly Rancher will get you to take your yucky antibiotics, Mommy will be the first to load you up! Micky Mouse, here we come.

Three to Thirty

Over the past few days I have seen glimpses into the future. Caed is growing up and I'm not sure I love it. He has been asserting his independence by trying things on his own and voicing his own opinion. (That part I can live without. Mommy calls it "sassy mouth".) But just yesterday as we were out for a family day, I looked into the backseat and saw Caed, not as a 3 1/2 year old, but as a 14 year old. There he sat, his baseball cap on, torn jeans and exuding every bit of confidence that a grown man would possess and said, "Hey, Mom. What's going on?"

What's going on? My heart is breaking, that's what is going on! It seems like just yesterday I was popping his paci back into his mouth to gain those 5 precious extra minutes of sleep, or reviewing bottle packaging to ensure they were all BPA free and now here sits a small man in my baby's car seat.

Granted, I know he is still 3 1/2. He reminds me of that each and every day when he cries after skinning his knee falling off his bike, or telling me he is afraid of the storm. I know that everything comes to an end so that there may be another beginning, but I'll hold my babies for just a bit longer if you don't mind.

I know this is the South

GRITS applies to me. I am a Girl Raised In The South....GRITS.

I understand all about sweet tea, actual grits that are traditionally served with eggs or shrimp depending on the time of day, hunting licenses at Wal-Mart and most of all big trucks. I get it. I'm a local, ya'll.

But what I don't understand is where the Southern hospitality has gone. When did it become OK to use those big 'ole trucks to run down a mother and her young-ins?

Just yesterday I was out with the twins on an all-over-town shopping scavenger hunt for a hammock. I understand that the second the temperature falls to below 80 degrees every store automatically removes all of the "seasonal merchandise" from the shelves and replaces it with inflatable Santa and Grinch lawn blow -ups, but I was holding out hope that there was just 1 left in town. I was wrong, and I digress.

As I was carefully strapping my child into his car seat, I was dang near run over by one afore mentioned trucks. Allow me to paint the picture...

I am parked in a nearly vacant parking lot of a strip shopping center. I had, indeed, pulled forward in the 2 spaces to allow for easy exit. I completed my shopping, or rather, failed last attempt at the hammock, and returned to my Mom Mobile. I gingerly strapped one boy into his car seat and proceeded around to the passenger side of the car and began strapping my other son into his seat. Just at that moment, a good 'ole boy in his over sized pick up decided to pull into the parking spot just to the rear and right of me. We made eye contact. He saw me. He was even smiling!

Just then he begins to pull forward into the spot directly next to me. Had he opened his door it would have been into my rear end and I don't mean the car bumper! I am livid and incensed that a Southern gentleman felt the need to be all of 2 feet closer to the door in an empty parking lot and choose the spot next to me. I would not have been irritated in the least had I not actually been standing on the outside of my vehicle and now smashed between my car and his diesel guzzling road hog of a truck!

Who does that!? Who does not see that a mother is in the process of ensuring the safety of her toddler and jump into the space closest to her? WHO DOES THAT!? Well as fast as I could I rushed from my child's side around into the drivers seat and it took every bit of Southern grace to not teach my children words that only consist of 4 letters. Just because you have a honkin' truck doesn't give you the right to park wherever you want!

As mothers, I know this would never happen in our circles. We observe, of course, the mini van 1 space rule: 1 empty parking space between each mini van or SUV in a parking lot if at all possible. The same premise applies to seats at the movies I believe.

The moral of the story? Learn the rules of the road. Even the unwritten ones. And perhaps a remedial lesson at charm school is in order!

Once Upon A Time

Recently the boys have taken advantage of the Jack & Jill bathroom they share, now that they are potty trained, to visit one another at various times throughout the night. They make very little noise, generally just playing dinosaurs or whispering in the darkness to Buzz Lightyear. You know, typical 3-year-old boy stuff. Generally I don't mind these late night shenanigans, at least til Leno is over. Plus it means that they sleep until 9:00am. I consider it a win-win.

So tonight was like any other night. I went in to tuck them in, again, and was blessed with a wonderful time. I decided to lay down in Daniel's red race car bed with the both of them and tell them a bedtime story, letting them fill in the blanks. It quickly became reminiscent of Mad Libs.

Me: Once Upon A Time there was a horse named _____

Alphabet!

And Alphabet had a brother named_____

Baby! And Alphabet found a tree frog and his Daddy did this (stomps on the bed) and tree frog died!! And then Baby hold his elephant and goes WOOO WOOO like this, and has spaghetti for breakfast.

Ummm...that has to be the best bedtime story I have ever heard. I laughed until I snorted, which only served to send them into a tailspin of laughter until our bellies hurt. It was amazing. And it was 11:30pm on a Wednesday night.

I'll remember it forever.

What is the moral of this story? Maybe we shouldn't always be annoyed, angry, frustrated, etc. - with what we think our kids should be doing, instead enter the situation with a tiny fragment of wonder - the kind of wonder with which they live their lives.

I won the lottery!

I wish I was talking about the big money lottery and I was here to tell you all that I am now the proud owner of more diamonds and fancy, over-priced items than a home should hold, but alas...no.

But the gift I was just honored with is better than diamonds or cash.


Wait for it.....


Both kids are potty trained! That's right, folks. I just hit the jackpot! No more diapers, no more wipes, no more diaper bag.

What does no more diaper bag mean? It means that I no longer am forced to carry around the contents of the nursery, times TWO, in an unflattering pattern. Oh, don't get me wrong! My diaper bags were super cute and stylish but no matter how stylish you try to get, it's still a diaper bag. Well no more! I now can carry a purse that carries all of my stuff. Sure, it's a satchel bag, and you may very well find a toy airplane or half eaten lollipop, but it's my bag.

And it was easy. I know, I don't mean to rub it in. But allow me to pass on my small bit of potty wisdom. Ready? IGNORE THEM. That's all. Caed even came to me one day and said, "Mommy, I want to potty train!"
I didn't believe him. I still ignored him. Until one day I was outraged at how much of a chunk diapers were taking out of my budget. I opted for a big bag of peanut M&Ms (the peanut is a protein and therefore the healthier option, right?) I promised Caed 1 M&M for a #1 and 2 for a #2. He had 5 M&Ms in 20 minutes, but sure enough in 1 day he was trained! Nights too. I'm telling you....better than diamonds!

I've also done away with sippy cups. That was Caed's fault actually. He would suck on the spout so hard and create a vacuum force you would swear a black hole was on the inside of the cup that twisting the lid off became impossible. So in sticking with my new mantra "If it creates more work for Mommy, it's wrong!" I threw all of them away. There was more separation anxiety than there was when I took their bottles away!
"But I want McQueen!" one would cry while the other said, "No big boy cups!" It was a darn near revolt as far as toddlers go! My dear, sweet husband even thought that they should be allowed to keep the sippy cups since they potty trained so easily. Ummmm....no. When he writhes on the kitchen floor trying to break the super suction 14 times a day, washes them and searches for them under couches, then he gets a vote.

Welcome to my home, sans diapers or cups with spouts!

All In A Day's Work

Had you asked me anytime prior to May 2007 if during any part of my day would I ever utter...

"Get Superman out of the toilet!"
"Only dogs can lick theirs."
"No, we don't eat that!"

...or any other of 100 phrases I say on a daily basis to His Highness 1 and His Highness 2, I would have thought it impossible and furrowed my botox-free brow at you.

Now? Now it's all in a day's work!

I do recall "trying" to conceive for over 3 years to "get" the boys. Heck, one would have been fine with me. However, God has a sense of humor and blessed us with twins. Boy twins. Hyper, dirty, all-out boys. My new mantra has become "How did God ever see fit to give me twin boys?!" Granted, it's usually after someone has tumbled down the stairs after their Buzz Lightyear action figure, leaped tall dressers in a single bound or raced into a muddy hole faster than a rat terrier!

You see, I'm not the rough and tumble type, ya'll. I'm a decent, God loving Southern Belle. Sure, I was in the Army, but it was pre 9/11. Things were different then. My biggest concern was finding a hair tie to compliment my naturally blonde hair without offending the uniform standards. I didn't lead a sheltered life by any means. Nor was I reared hosting tea parties with my Strawberry Shortcake dolls or playing dress up. I myself am a twin (juxtaposed by a boy in fact!), but nothing could prepare me for motherhood.

Especially to be their mom!

They amaze me every day with their wit, wisdom (yes, wisdom even in a 3-year-old!) and forgiving nature.

I am terrified, scared, excited about this journey and what it has in store for me; how it will create me.


Follow along, won't you!