Nap time

Nap time is very important to me. Vital, actually. So when N started crying in her crib this afternoon after a mere 45 minutes, I put off going to get her right away. Because as cute as she is, it becomes difficult to get things done when there's a little girl sitting next to you, asking you questions ad nauseum.

"Mom, what you doing?"
"Mom, when my birthday?"
"Mom, you hear me?"

(The last question she asks all the time. And she doesn't necessarily want to say anything at all. She'll just keep asking you if you hear her over and over and over again.)

Don't you wear your ballerina tutu on your head as hair ?
And to top it off, she insisted I put a clip on top of her "hair".

Happy birthday, T!

Dear T,

Six years ago, early, early in the morning, you were born. I thought you were coming about every day for a week before that, and I was starting to get impatient to meet you. But you wanted to come on your own time. And that's pretty much the way you do things. I can try and talk you into doing something, but it's always better if you decide to do it yourself. That can be frustrating when it's coupled with your strong stubborn streak, but I usually just need to wait for you to come around. And you always do.

I've loved watching you discover learning even more this year at kindergarten. I was worried that you might not like school, and it's been so great to watch you grow, learn, and just have fun. You're such a bright, imaginative kid and I love you so much. Happy birthday, sweet boy!

Love,

Mom

Poor A2 gets wrongly blamed

As stated in my previous post, the twins have become a bit... hard to manage of late. A2 especially likes to find small things to play with that aren't necessarily his. Last Sunday as we were heading out the door for church, my husband announced that he couldn't find his wedding ring. He had left it on top of his office desk (not a great place to leave it, I reminded him) and A2 had spent a few minutes that morning sitting at Daddy's desk and looking through his drawer. Daddy wasn't too pleased about that. We both looked a ton that night—both in his office and up in our bedroom. I even took out a flashlight in case the ring had fallen behind his desk. Nothing.

The next morning, my husband came down to go to work with his ring on. It had been on our dresser, right where he usually leaves it. We had both looked there several times, but had somehow missed it. My husband apologized to A2 for wrongly accusing him.

Last week, I bought a new wallet. As I was transferring stuff from the old to the new, I realized I was missing a $100 bill. Now, I never have that kind of cash, but it was a bonus gift from work. I panicked, looked a thousand more times in my wallet, and couldn't find it. Then I remembered that earlier in the day, A2 was seen playing with a few coins. I concluded that he must have gotten into my purse. I looked and looked and couldn't find the $100.

Today, a room mom from T's class called about the money I had sent in for the class gift for his teacher. She thanked me for being so generous but wanted to make sure that I had meant to give $102 for the gift.

Poor A2—blamed for things he never did.

One step behind

I'm a person who likes to feel in control. I have schedules and plans and I like my children to have schedules and rules. Sure, little kids can get into trouble and mischief, but I've never had problems with crazy toddlers causing destruction at every turn.

That has changed with the the twin masterminds.

Over the past few weeks, I have begun to feel like the twins are running this house—not the parents. They've started to work really well together at being naughty. A2 is taller, so he'll open doors that N can't. And N will get fantastic ideas to go do something, like say, climb up on the bathroom counter and "brush" their teeth, maybe with their toothbrushes and maybe with other people's toothbrushes. And maybe using hot water and splashing it all over the bathroom.

Last week, they learned how to climb over the gate on the basement steps. Yes, it's amazing that it lasted this long, but I was really, really sad about it. When they were in the basement, I knew they were safe and the house was safe. Now, that's gone.

So, I lock all the bedrooms and I've turned on the door alarm so I know if they try to leave the house. And I keep finding new places to hide my huge diaper bag and purse so that they won't find gum and lipstick and any other treasures in there.

On Saturday, while I suffered all day with strange stomach pains that kept me curled up in a ball on my bed, the twins did some exploring. Since all the bedroom doors were locked, they had some fun in their dad's office and also learned how to open the fridge. They took out ham, yogurt, and even cracked some eggs on the brand-new rug in our piano room.

I told my husband that I feel like I'm always one step behind these people.

Don't they look so innocent?