Skip to main content

TMI


 Morning wake-up calls are hard.  Emerson rolled into our room the other morning at 6:00am.  Since she was the first kid up, and I wasn't yet prepared to start a new day, I lifted her into the bed beside me.  This isn't usually allowed, but I needed just five more minutes.  And she's cute.  At least she was cute until she started picking her nose on the pillow beside me.  Being a generous two-year-old, she offered me the booger, but I refused it.  She offered it to me again, and I gave her another, "no thank you," so she wiped it on my pillowcase.  The no kids in the bed rule was immediately reinstated.  

I need advice.  Our kids are basically professional nose pickers.  I don't know how we got here, but I don't know how to get off this train.  The younger ones think it's funny to walk around with their fingers jammed up to their brains and the older ones don't even realize they are doing it, it's become such a disgusting habit.  Only they don't think it's disgusting.  I try to explain why I'm dry heaving in the corner, and they think I'm overreacting.  I can handle all the body functions, but boogers and snot...it's my Achilles heel!  Help!

While I'm talking about body functions, the girls are trying to potty train themselves still.  I'm adamantly against it.  It's too much.  Diapers forever, girls!  Since mom won't help them, they've started helping each other.  It would be cute if they weren't forever trying to change each other's diapers.  I busted them doing it during nap time.  Emerson was naked from the waist down lying on the floor in diapering position. Carter was holding the diaper contemplating it and Emerson's naked bottom.  When she noticed me, she thrust the diaper my way and just said, "help, please."  I found remnants from the dirty diaper on the carpet later.  That's not helpful, girls.  Not helpful.  

I do appreciate that they are so excited for each other's successes, and Carter is forever the encourager.  I just wish we could do this thing one at a time.  Kind of like everything else with twins...double the blessing, quadruple the work.  But they are pretty cute.  



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Tough Love

 We were on our way home from a birthday party not long ago, and Fischer began complaining from the backseat that one of the kids had tripped him and laughed about it.   Ross looked at him in the rearview mirror and responded, "Life's hard, Buddy.  You're going to have to toughen up."  To which his brother responded, "Yeah.  You have no idea.  Just wait until you're eight."  At that, they both sat back in their booster seats and contemplated their life situation for the remainder of the drive home.    Evidently, life is smooth sailing in those early single digits, but once you reach the ripe old age of, "I can mostly tie my own shoes and reach the kitchen faucet," it's all hard knocks and rough living.   I know this must be true because Sawyer also told his aunt the other day, "It's time to get on it and get myself a car.  I'm going to get a Cord Tacoma."  I think what he wanted to say, but didn't have the words  was,

All I Want For Christmas...

  Christmas time is such a fun season.  I love focusing on the birth of Jesus with the kids and recognizing the true reason for celebrating.  I also relish the magical part of the season that gives so much life to our kids' imaginations and innocents.  They are always precious, but I feel it even more so this time of year.   Even our oldest hasn't completely given up on Santa, although he has a lot more questions having been around classmates and friends who coolly deny the existence of Santa or Christmas magic.  We know it can't last forever, but I'm going to milk it for at least one more season.  He is still more or less on board.  I think he wants it to be real, so he doesn't dig too deep.  Consequently, he and his siblings were all excited for a trip to meet Santa and Mrs. Claus last weekend.  I was excited too.  I love their reactions, and last year Carter was too sick to go, so this was her first opportunity to meet Santa face to face.   The trip didn't di

Christmas Miracle

 For better or worse, I don't have a lot of pride.  I used to have some, but after the third and fourth child, what little I had vanished.  I'd like to be put together.  I would like my kids to be put together.  I have come to terms with the fact that, 99% of the time, that's not going to happen.  When we leave the house, I consider it a win if everybody has on an appropriate amount of clothing and two shoes that match.   The first time we visited the orthodontist in preparation for Sawyer's braces, I showed up with four kids in dirty play clothes and one child with mismatched shoes.  It just so happens that the orthodontist's wife is the mom of some of my former students, and she was working that day.  Luckily, I also hadn't brushed anyone's hair before we left the house, so we made quite an impression.  I've been trying to raise the bar ever since, but I seem to keep failing.  The next appointment we came straight from the barn and smelled like it, but