Parents NEVER Lie… Much

Warm weather has set in in Virginia, and summer vacation is almost upon us. Keeping with annual tradition, tonight we blew up the inflatable kiddie pool in the back yard and prepared to fill it will chilly (FREEZING) tap water. For the second year in a row, we pulled swim diapers on the twins and tugged suits onto the squirming bodies of our three children.

Realizing I had left my camera inside again, I settled in to watch them giggle and squirm as they laughed and jumped both away and toward the water hose. Laughingly, I learned that the twins liked the water but didn’t want their suits to get wet. Why would anyone want to get water on a perfectly dry bathing suit?

Stranger still was the educational conversation I had with Maddie. It went something like this:

ME: When we go to the big pool, should you go swimming by yourself?


ME: No… (Insert explanation of why she needed an adult and who counted as an adult.)

MADDIE: (jump jump jump splash jump jump) Squeal

ME: Remember, we can’t run when we’re at the big pool either. You might fall and break your head.

MADDIE: Like a zombie!

ME: (pause… consider my answer… decide to take the moral high ground and tell her the truth) Yes! Exactly like a zombie!

That’s just how we roll.


Have Phone… Will Talk

The twins like to talk, correction, LOVE to talk… when they want to.  This is often not when I want them to or about what I would like to discuss.  In fact, we have reached the growl, whine, and stomp phase.  They favorite words are “MOOO!” (move), “eenaa” (banana), “abba” (apple), and “peet-zaa” (you can figure that one out).  The also like the phrase “Mine, aaaa mine!”  What they also can say, but often don’t, are things like “please,” “more,” and “I love you.”  (They like to wrestle, smack, and occasionally try to use their teeth as weapons of minor destruction.)

I find it strange, however, that when you put a phone in their hands, they can talk for ever, often in a language I don’t speak, but heaven help you if you try to take the phone from them.

Ahh… they are truly girls… and just think, I have three of them!


Please send chocolate.


(Abby at top and Makayla at bottom)

Twin Humor: When a Dragon Slayer is Needed

The babies were at it again tonight, but that’s to be expected when they’ve been battling it out since their days en utero. This time the fight was over the pink pacifier… it would seem that the green one was not as desirable as the watermelon hue that Makayla was chomping on, so Abby jumped her. There was great wailing and gnashing of teeth as I pulled them apart. Man, twenty-two month old identicals are strong! That was a sign that an early bed time was imminent, and off they went.

Some days are like this.

Others are more humorous. Several days ago there was the incident with the vacuum. As an overly tired and less than motivated mom, I had managed to get the floors clean, but the vacuum had yet to be stowed in a less noticeable corner of my overly cramped abode. As it sat, docile and unthreatening, beside the twins’ plastic play kitchen, I went about with my cleaning routine—there are way too many clothes for me to ever get them folded, but I’m still trying.

In my peripheral, I saw one of the girls (they look too alike for me to remember which one) sidle cautiously to the purple beast’s side. I swear she looked at her sister and grinned. Before I could stop what I knew was about to happen, she hit the power switch and ran like the devil was behind her. Across the living room, into the kitchen, and under the table she dove as her sister collapsed to the ground, still beside the growling machine of doom. The piteous cries would have been heartbreaking had I, in the middle of a bad mommy moment, not been laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe. Disinterested in the plight of her sister, Madison looked away from the previously riveting episode of Doc McStuffins to ask me if I could turn off the vacuum.

Remembering that I was the mom and thus was expected to save the day, I regained my composure and went to apprehend and slay the villain. Like a knight in shining armor, I swept the now soggy babe into my arms, hugged her tightly, and rescued her from peril.

There is never a dull moment, but at least I get a good laugh from time to time.

(PS- I’m still waiting for my cape to come in the mail.)

My Declaration of War, One Battle at a Time

The twins are napping (FINALLY) and so I must prepare for battle.  In my home, there is one constant: laundry.  Somehow adding two more children managed to quadruple the number of loads that the washer and I must tackle each week.  As I type, the washer and dryer are both at full capacity, and the love seat has been burdened with no less than five loads at any given moment since school began in August.  I’m pretty sure the babysitter must think I never wash clothes, but I swear that I do!

Saturday dawns each week with the renewed determination to clear the furniture of all of the clothes that have accumulated from the week’s washing.  I fold and fold and fold some more, and then finally manage to put away millions of tiny socks, thousands of princess dresses that have somehow not managed to clog the washer with their disengaged sequins, and stacks of boring but well used towels.  What I never manage to account for, however, it that as I am folding and diligently returning them to their rightful places in various rooms, more clothes are being worn and washed.  Spills continue to happen, and the clothes fairy has still not made an appearance.

I will fight the good fight, but baby sitter will still have to bear witness to items of clothing she would probably rather not see on the love seat.  (I’m so sorry, Rachel!)  Someday I will win, but that may also coincide with the day my three beloved children leave the nest for their dorm rooms.

Wish me luck.

photo 2