touching my stuff is bad for your health

"Lord help the mister who comes between me and my sister, and Lord help the sister who comes between me and my man!"

isn't it funny how you can be completely convinced you don't want or need something in your until you see someone enjoying it? then, of course, you gotta have it, right? it's the most important thing ever, right?

there has got to be no other realm other than the world of twins where this little quirk is played out regularly in all its ugly, irrational glory. the same girls who can tag-team a cohort into a corner at daycare suddenly start circling each other like Armored Bears over the smallest of things.

for instance, i submit for you this scene from a snowed in Saturday afternoon:




Boca: Dixie, do you want this teddy bear? want your teddy?

Dixie: no.

Boca: you sure? you don't want your teddy?

Dixie: no.

Boca: ok. here, Trixie. here's a teddy.

Dixie: MYYYYEEEEEEEE TEDDDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! *kerSNATCH*

and so it went all weekend, with various items substituted for teddy, such as crayon, blanket, baby, juice....and i just took a moment away from the keyboard to break up a battle over a stroller.

i grew up an only child with half-siblings on my father's side in their own houses touching their own shit and not mine. i'm not used to this and frankly, it annoys the hell out of me. my inner only child cries out in torment every time i see a toy jacking go down "gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawd, why can't you just leave her shit alone! you got your own shit! go get it!"

See? nobody talks about what it's like for only children to raise siblings groups. well let me assure you, much like calculus and pimpin, it ain't easy.

ok, granted, i get that they are two and that means they are by nature irrational self-centered beings. but i promise you, when this carries over into their teens...and i said when, not if; i'm quixotic, not naive...i will completely lose my mind.

not that it's gonna take much. my mind is already on a long, long leash and has galloped away out of my eyeshot. the irrational fights over shirts, shoes, and (god help us all) boys will surely cause that leash to snap like an old rubber band.

so here we are. epic battles threaten to break out at the slightest provocation. if i tickle one, i better get to tickling the other. kissing one, pucker up, mama, here comes the other one, holding one, scoot over you, i need me some lap as well, and on and on and on.

let's just hope that in the furture, they are just as jealously preoccupied with one another when it comes to chores:

"but, moooooooooooooooooooooom, I wanted to do the dishes! she did them yesterday!!! why are you trying to ruin my life????"

yeah, a mom can dream.

Lupus? Depression? Hair loss? Have you tried Motrín?

One of the best jokes in My Big Fat Greek Wedding was the dad's insistance that Windex could fix or cure virtually anything. when i saw it, i thought to myself "cmon! NOBODY'S dad is really like that!"

and then I had Trixie and Dixie. and their dad because an ardent, faithful, and obediant servant to the gods of Motrin.

This past weekend, Trixie had a congested, runny nose. Early in the morning, she coughed once or twice as she was waking up. That led to this genius level conversation between me and her dad:

"do you have any Motrín?

"yes."

"we should give her some."

"why? Motrin is a fever reducer and pain reliever. she doesn't have a fever."

"because she has a runny nose."

"Motrin is a fever reducer and pain reliever."

"but she coughed. i think she would feel better if you gave her some Motrín."

"Motrin.is.a.fever.reducer.and.pain.reliever."

"oh. well, if you're not going to give her Motrín, can you go buy something to give her? something over the counter?"

*icy blank stare*

i don't know which part annoyed me the most, his desire to give her a drug that in no way, shape, or form could even possible address her symptoms OR his lack of knowledge of recommendations against giving OTC med to kids under six.

why do the mommies always have to be the ones staying on top of things???

Trix and Dix's dad was pretty unhappy when President Obama announced he'd be sending more troops to Afghanistan. Perhaps we could instead send the Taliban some Motrín.

I'm sure that would fix their terrorist ideology RIGHT UP, along with any sneezing, depression, or hair loss they may be experiencing.

awwwww, i heart-shaped-poop-stain you too!

as i find myself nearing closer and closer to Operation Big Girl: Battle of the Buns, i find myself filled with several different emotions. sadness, because my girls are growing up; giddyness, because soon i will be released from the tyranny of Luvs; excitement over helping them reach another milestone; and finally, fear.

pure, raw, uncut, almost crushing, fear.

an incident occured the other evening during bed time (which is now referred to as the nightly meeting of Fight Club) that both chilled my heart and made my soul trill sweetly with hope.

Trixie is a rambuncious sort. she has no fear of climbing and tries to scale most things, both animate and inanimate. she has even shimmied up my leg with the intention of having me hold her. during Fight Club, she gets out of her bed, takes her clothes off, steps out of her diaper like it's a pair of panties, and runs about starkers, taunting me. we go through several instances of me catching her, dressing her, and re-bedding her....only for it to happen all over again until she finally passes out.

but this weekend, something different happened.

this time when she took off the diaper it was full of poop. and instead of running around naked, she plopped down on the carpet in her room and started playing.

and that's when i discovered her, nude from the waist down, playing with her tea set. and i discovered a couple of heart shaped poop stains on my carpet.

i've long gotten over the mortification that comes with cleaning atrociously poopy diapers. so long as i keep the action in the diaper and not on my hands, i'm straight. but on more than one occasion over the last few weeks, i have come uncomfortablely close to Trixie's fecal matter. but on this particualr instance, i wasn't horrified or grossed out...too much.

i was excited! because don't they say another sign of potty training readiness is the child's dislike of soiled diapers next to her skin?

see, if you look at it that way, then this was Trixie's way of letting me know that she knew what i was thinking and that she knows just like i know that she is indeed ready to poop in the potty!

and to that show of confidence, i say to her:

Let's Do This, Tyler Durden.

lots of tears.

i've been overcome off and on all day with this sweeping rage and feelings of powerlessness. i have ranted, prayed for the painful death of the child's mother and the rat dog piece of shit that she gave Sheniya to, and cried so many tears out of deep sadness and grief. i have discovered, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that i there is a threshold that can be crossed within me that would allow me to easily and gladly take the life of another.

when i think about why Sheniya's story resonates with me so deeply, i realize there are things about her that trigger deep emotions within me. when i look at the pictures of her being carried by someone who meant her so much harm, i see Trixie's hair in the mornings when i wake her up. when i see her hand holding onto his shoulder, i see Dixie's hands as she hold her arms up for a hug when i pick her up from daycare in the evenings.

i see her without shoes and i'm enraged. 

when i see her profile, i see my own daughters. and i am reminded that there are broken subhuman pieces of shit out in this world who don't see my girls as wonderful amazing little girls, but as things to be abused, used, and destroyed.

i love my girls more than anything or anyone in this world, including myself. i would never put them in harms way, knowingly hand them over to someone who would harm them. it's impossible for me to fathom what type of woman would do such a thing.

we have got to do a better job of protecting our girls. we have got to start recognizing that being born female makes our daughters more likely to be attacked, abused, raped, and exploited.

and we've got to do something about it.

and for all those people who saw Precious and wrote it off as unrealistic, manipulative, poverty-porn:

is this real enough for you?

when it totally sounds like fun IN YOUR HEAD.

i got a totally unexpected invitation on monday evening from an old friend from KY via gchat:

"hey! can you come home this weekend? the art's league is having their costume party and it's gonna be great. if you can make it, everything will be paid for. my mom told me to let you know she'd love to babysit the girls for you!"

i can't go. there's no way i could go.

i would love to go, would have a blast, would see friends and family for the first time since 2007, but i can't go.

there are way too many ends which need tying, arrangements in need of making, and whatnot for me to just up and go. anywhere.

it's just as well. i probably wouldn't enjoy it nearly as much as i think i would. it's most likely one of those "sounded great in theory but sucked in reality situations" i try to avoid at all costs.

and yet, i totally wish i had the freedom to just throw together a bag, hit the gas station, and GO. because i really think it's gonna be fantastic and i'm gonna totally miss it!!!

Confessions of a Bad Mother: first comes the TV, then comes McDonalds....

i am a tv junkie. i love it. i have no problem spending time indoors watching a parade of stupid on tv until my eyes feel blurry by the end of the day. when i was in middle school and met a classmate who told me her family didn't own a tv, i felt sad for her. SHE WAS MISSING THE YOUNG ONES, FOR GOD'S SAKE!!!

i am alarmed to report that i seem to have spread my sickness on to my kids.

see, it all started innocently enough. their dad got them a tv with a dvd player, so they could watch Blue's Clues and Baby Einstein and whatnot. but....well, the dvds got old and their mom stayed cheap, so i came up with the fabulous idea of hooking their tv up to the cable. so they could watch Noggin and only Noggin.

so you know what happened next, right? Sing-alongs with Moose and Zee, dance-alongs with The Backyardigans, rescue-alongs with The Wonder Pets, jam-alongs with Yo Gabba Gabba....man, even the commercials are the bomb!

now don't get me wrong, they still like to read their books. as a matter of fact, brown bear is STILL on the Trixie and Dixie Times Bestsellers List.

it's just that now the first thing Dixie says to me in the morning when she wakes up is "Coos-COOS!" as she points to the tv.

then, she scratches her neck like a crackhead.

i'm not a dumb bunny. i know there's "research" out there proclaiming that tv exposure has been shown to "negatively impact" your child's "cognitive functioning."

yeah, yeah, blah blah blah, you ol' killjoy scientists. i have yet to see any signs of persistent and pernicious stupid coming from either of the chicks, so STFU with your boring lab coats.

but nonetheless, it's jarring to see your kids actually express a desire to watch tv. i wanted them to enjoy it, not exactly seek it out like they need it. but what did i think would happen?

however,  i am drawing the line at getting tvs and a dvd player for the car. i don't care how effortless they are claimed to make road trips!

anything you can do, i can do better!

i was thinking the other day, as i do often, about what my motherhood experience would be like if i could call my mom and get her opinion and guidance on some things. I told myself that my having daughters would most likely have brought us closer together, that we would bond even tighter over my experiencing some of the same things i'm sure she experienced with me when i was small.

and then i snapped out of it.

because the fact of the matter is, most Moms and GMoms don't meld into this invincible unit in which ideas are shared and built upon for the betterment of the child. No, a battle of wills usually occurs centered around who has the best idea, greatest tips, and most steady head, heart, hands, and temperament.

i like to think of this conversation, soon after finding out i was having twins, as a hint of what would have been:

Wilma: now....you're not going to hit them are you? you're not going to spank, right?

Boca: yes! often! daily! whenever the mood strikes, all pun intended!

Wilma: ohhhhhh, you can't do that!

[readers, have i ever told you about the *spanking* i once got that started in my bedroom and ended in the living room? because i was running? and she was chasing? did i?]

yeap, she was geared up and 'ret to let fly a stream of hypocrisy the likes of which i would have sworn up to that point was merely legendary. it was going to happen.

and in response to it, there would be much teeth gnashing, complaining, and silent eyerolling with an few "who's kids does she think these ARE anyway!"

that alllll being said, it would still totally rock to be able to talk to my mom about this experience and listen to her tell me for the 1 millionth time, squared, that if SHE could do it, i can DEFINITELY do it....even if she did do it better.