Confessions of a Bad Mother: Snacks? What Snacks?

i got another one of those fantastic weekly emails that notes how old your child is and what you should expect last night. this came from pampers.com, telling me (a few days early) that hoooooray my child is now 20 months.

and as i was scanning the email, making tiny check marks beside all of the things i do "right" and beside what the twins are doing on target, i got to this line:

At this age, meals are generally short affairs. Make the most of the time your toddler does spend eating by offering him calorie-dense foods six times a day (three meals, three hearty snacks).

uh, sorry? three hearty snacks? three? snacks? EVERYDAY???

this is the part where i pull out the cat-of-nine-tails and practice some public mortification of my flesh.....i don't really give my kids snacks.

yes, i said it.

i feed them like they are people. breakfast, lunch, dinner. milk, juice, water. maybe on occasionally a cracker or 2, give or take 20.

but that's it, people!

so after reading that email and having a panic attack (scurvy! they're going to get scurvy!!), i decided to change my evil ways and get them ladies some snacks! and i must say, the snacking has gone over like gangbusters. as a matter of fact, when i gave them bananas, Dixie actually said "ooooooooooooooooooooooh!" while making a grab for it.

i am amazed at the stuff that never occurs to me until im finding out i'm not doing it right. when is it going to get easier?

Party's Over.

one of the things that has consistently gone right with Trix and Dix has been my faithful and unwavering dedication to the 8:30 pm bedtime. granted, we had a slight hiccup with daylight saving time, but once they got over the whole problem with having to go to bed while it's still daytime, it was smooth sailing.

and then 19 months happened. actually, 19 months, week 4 happened. and my sweet children who had gone to bed at 8:30 last week are now chitty chattin, jibber jabberin, screaming, crying, and whining well past 10:00 pm now. In addition to this change in events, i also had the pleasure of wrangling them over the weekend without benefit of them taking a nap.

and did i mention that they seem to have gotten yet another burst of outrageous energy and stamina? they're like Tasmanian Devils on meth!

and did i tell you that Dixie seems to have been possessed by a bipolar demon? She can go from shits and giggles to punches and scratches in nanoseconds!

Babycenter has been sending me weekly emails trying to warn me these changes were coming. i glanced over the article titles, but i didn't really read them. because underneath it all, i said to myself "yeah, but not my little chicklets."

welp, it's my little chicklets.

a friend of mine told me yesterday things will be better when they're three. i'll do my best to hold out until then...

reading is dys-fundamental

a scene from a mother and child, bonding over a book:

"ajure?"

"shirt."

"ajure?"

"door."

"ajure?"

"apple."

"ajure?"

"door."

"ajure?"

"frog."

"ajure?"

"milk."

"ajure?"

"frog."

"ajure?"

"frog."

"ajure?"

"hat."

"ajure?"

"baby."

"ajure?"

"bathing suit."

"ajure?"

"door."

"ajure?"

"chocolate."

"ajure?"

"chicken."

"ajure?"

"flower."

"ajure?"

"frog."

....boy, i really owe the person who invented picture books a big ol hearty roundhouse kick to the nads.

Braiding Miriam's Hair

there as an interesting photo essay in the Atlanta Journal Consitution a while ago about a Emory professor and his wife who'd adopted a child from Ethiopia. the pictures illustrated his efforts to care for his child's hair.

there are many reasons why this story and this photo are touching. the photo hit me like a thunderbolt. many of us have seen black children or interracial children with kinkier hair raised by non-blacks with some crazy looking hair. and many of us have wondered aloud or to one another "why won't somebody puLEASE do that baby's hair!"

but what we're really saying is "why don't you care for this child like you would one with straight hair?"

and there were some moments of *yikes* while viewing the pics (a plastic fork?! PETROLEUM JELLY?!), but the pictures are wonderful nonetheless.

i'm sure there are plenty of non POCs who have made the choice to adopt children of african decent who took the time and made the effort to learn how to care for their children. it's just nice to see it.

and with that, my last refuge was destroyed.

one of the methods i have used to grab myself a small break has been to park the twins in their cribs and turn on a baby einstein dvd. i have found these moments, especially in that period where i'm making dinner in the evenings, to be invaluable.

late this morning, i decided it was time to employ this method. i was lying on the couch not feeling well coughhungovercough, and the girls were crawling all over me. elbows and knees were finding all soft spots on my body never designed for contact with elbow and knees.

i said "cmon, ladies: time for some baby einstein."

i came back to the couch and while the husband surfed online for soccer highlights, i dozed.

so imagine my surprise when i heard him say "look!", opened my eyes and saw Dixie standing in the living room.

turns out she can now get out of her crib on her own.

when the twins do things that they've not done up to this point, i am always met with the same conflicting thoughts and emotions. they usually run together, stream of consciousnessy, sounding like "oh my god look what she can do i'm so impressed on no please jesus make my baby stop leaving me!"

and as i looked into her eyes, i realized i am one step closer to awakening to a finger in my eye at 3 am.

the crushing weight of childcare costs.

Trixie and Dixie's daycare costs increased this month. $10 a week may not seem like a lot, but in my case, that's $10 per week, week per kid.

$240 a week.

$1040 a month.

$12,480 per year.

and when i asked my local childcare assistance agency for help, they told me i make too much money to qualify for help, and that even if i did qualify their waiting list is 3 YEARS long.

these are the realities that cause shortness of breath and tightness in my chest. that's panic, my friends.

and it's not going to go away for a long, long time.

She drive me crazy, but only me is allowed to say that.

there are certain things that Dixie will not abide by:

1) do not take her gorilla out of her bed without her express written permission. yes, she writes permission slips.

2) don't bother her while she's talking on the phone; if you hear her ask "where you at" when she picks up her toy cell phone, it's a serious call. keep it moving.

3) if she is reading a book, don't touch the book....TRIXIE.

4) do not under any circumstance mess with Trixie. and mess is subject to operational definition by Dixie.


Trixie and Dixie, Chillin in the Cut, 12/2007

Dixie, although slightly smaller, is the older, bossier twin in the house. she has a very big personality in a tiny little body and is more than willing to remind you of such if she things you've somehow forgotten.

In the daycare the girls attend, i've been told more than once stories of Dixie smackin a toddler up when she thinks they've gotten out of pocket with her Trixie. Today, before delivering a smack to the head of a kid messing with Trixie, Dixie informed her "no! stop! sister!"

*whaaap!*

two weeks ago, Dixie made her way all the way across the room to deliver a smack to the lips of another kid who had the poor judgment to make Trixie cry. literally dropped what she was doing, ran across the room, and *saved* her sister.

but none of this has any bearing on the the frequency in which i find them fighting like tigers amongst themselves. last week i found Trixie holding Dixie in a wrassle move on their bedroom floor, grinning like a fiend the entire time.

growing up as an only child, i greet the news of her daycare beatdowns with a dark thrill. i hardly ever laugh on the outside because, really?...laughing at toddler on toddler violence is not a good look.

but deep down...ok, not so deep down...i am loving how Dixie has her sister's back. let's just hope it lasts: if these girls decide to fight each other over a damn boy? i'm cracking skulls.