Heads Or Tails?

Sometimes I stuff my kids into footy-jammies just to pretend I have my babies again.  Aw...

A Birthday Gift

While everyone lay sleeping in our quiet house, I have time to ponder the last 365 days.  In a few minutes, it will be my birthday.  While I have many things for which to be thankful, I must say these moments, these exact moments, when everyone lay sleeping in our quiet house, is most precious.  

Thank you God.

Thank you Karma.

Thank you Family.

Thank you Husband.

Thank you Friends.

Thank you Blog-Friends.

Thank you In-Laws.

Thank You Strangers.

Thank You Coffee and Wine Makers.

Thank You World for all of my blessings.

Here are my Two Favorite Blessings...

(Taken in the hotel, after a long day of swimming.  They almost never sleep together, so this was a rare treat to find them so cuddled and twin-like.)

Sleep. Who Needs It? Um, I Do.

Dear Three and a Half Year Old Boy,

You know that thing in your room, the comfy thing with the mattress, the flannel doggie sheets, the quilt, and all your special animals and blankies?  The thing that's blue because it's your favorite color?  The thing that has a trundle below for sleepovers?  It's called a bed.  YOUR BED.  

And you know that big thing in Mommy and Daddy's room that doesn't have stuffed animals or baby blankies and it's kind of hard to crawl up on, yeah that's OUR BED.  

Your bed, blue.

Our bed, well, ours.

And you know how you get all cranky in the afternoon because even though you went into your room for nap-time you didn't sleep?  There's a reason for nap-time.  It's to nap.  And then, when we want to go somewhere in the evening you do this funny thing called falling asleep wherever the heck we go.  Yeah, well, that probably wouldn't happen if you napped.

And maybe you wouldn't be so cranky if you actually stayed in your own room at night in that bed thing, your bed.  Kicking the crap out of Mommy and Daddy at night might be fun for you, but when Mommy wakes up with a bloody lip at 3 am (bad week for lips) from getting sucker-kicked by jammy feet, it's not very funny.  

Let's review buddy because maybe these are some big words for you:

BED (like yours) and NAP (like at nap-time)

(Your) BED at night + NAPping during the afternoon = Many Glorious Days in Heaven (for me, of course).

Okay, ready for the test?  Yes or no?  The following places are where you should sleep:

The Couch?

Mommy & Daddy's Bed

The Beach?

The Baby Bassinette Holding Your Stuffed Animals?

YOUR Bed?

Breaking Gender Stereotypes One Set of Footy Jammies at a Time

Watch out world.  There's a Mom here who celebrates differences, encourages freedom to choose, and relishes in responsible decision-making.  

These kids are the face of innocence.  When is it that gender stereotypes will make them ashamed and embarrassed for wearing their siblings' clothes?  Guess what world?  When boys play with dolls, they learn to nurture.  When girls play with trucks, they learn mechanics.  And when kids are just left alone to have fun -- they do what feels good.  Remember that?   

I'm not shaking up the world because I let my kids wear different colors, but I hope I am because I encourage them to go with their instinct.  I hope compassion doesn't get lost when they head out the door.  I hope they seek diversity in friendship and experience.  

So shake it up.  Go on.  Tell me what you do.

Calgon Take Me Away

Oh.  We had one of those days.  Well, not the entire day.  But it feels like it lasted about a week.  We had a Supernanny moment.  You know the one.  The one where Supernanny instructs the clueless parents on how to implement a time-out.  The kind where you want to shout at the television, "Get a back-bone you wimp-ass parent.  Who the f*#@ is in charge anyway?"  

Yeah, that was me at about 4:00 today.  The spineless freak going into a parenting rage.  

My kids, three and a half, and 27 days are not napping anymore.

I know.  I know.  It's okay.  Maybe their bodies don't require it.

Here's the thing.  YES, they do.  And my body requires their bodies to get the hell off me for an hour.  

So we play the game.  It goes like this.

Me:  You don't have to sleep but you need to go into your room for a REST.  I'll come get you when rest time is over.

2 minutes later... 

Annoying twin #1:  "Is rest time over?"

Me:  I SAID I'LL GET YOU when rest time is over.  Go back to your room.

Annoying twin #2:  "I heard something.  Is rest time over now?"

Me: " I swear we've taught you English.  And I swear you know what I mean.  I will tell YOU when rest time is over.  STOP asking.  Go back to your room."

Okay, you're rolling your eyes by now.  Use an egg timer.  Set an alarm.  Use a chart with happy faces and ... BLAH BLAH BLAH.  I know.  Shit.  

40 minutes later ... we're STILL playing the game.

So I grab an arm, march a kid back into their room while the other kid narrowly escapes my grasp while laughing something that sounded like, "You poor slob.  You'll never get us BOTH into our own rooms.  Give it up."

Ugh.

So yes, I'll try all of my teacher tricks.  I'll get the timer.  I'll find their currency (dessert).  I'll make a Rest-time chart.  But COME ON!  How did I lose the power?  Doesn't size matter (okay, let's not get into that)?  But come on.  I'm bigger.  I'm older.  I'm louder.  I can eat cookies whenever I want.  Don't they know R-E-S-P-E-C-T?

Don't answer that.  Just call freakin' Supernanny for me so that I can be humiliated on national television.

...they did end up staying until *I* came to get them.  But it wasn't really worth the struggle.  

SIGH...

So, I've now had ONE margarita, ONE Mexican beer, and ONE glass of Argentine wine.  Feeling a little better now...

Goodnight Moon

For as long as I can remember, I have read exactly two books each night to my children.  Never more, never less.  Some nights I'm in the mood to read many more.  Some nights I'd rather tuck myself in without another verse of The Very Hungry Caterpillar.  But I always read exactly two.  I read two books to Tatum, and two books to Chase.  This way they have consistency.  They don't beg, "Please Mommy, one more."  They also know they can count on me, I'm good for two.  (Daddy often takes this duty with one of the munchkins, too.)

So, my twins are now 3 years, 5 months, 19 days old.  Two books per night per kid means I have read 2,528 books ... and that's just at bedtime.  Whew.  

So friends, tell me *your* bedtime routine.