Saturday, December 22, 2012

Why My Girls are Kind of Like Criminals

I probably should have mentioned in the very first post that a common occurence on this blog will be lists. I.LOVE.LISTS. In fact, I have a list of lists I would like to write about.

So how did I come to the conclusion that my daughters are kind of like criminals? Well, I've been reading other lists and articles, one of which was about the similarities of toddlers to drunkards. And it just dawned on me. My girls, and really all babies/toddlers in general, are similiar to criminals. I did some brief research to strengthen my reasoning and came accross a test  to determine if someone is a psychpath. The hubs and I went through it and the girls scored 14 out of 20. Now, I'm not saying my 13 month old angel pies are psychos. I'll wait until the teen years to make that determination.

1) They'll steal your heart: Ok, I'll get the mushy one out of the way right away. But they are pretty sweet and will steal your heart. They'll probably also steal your soul, because they are gingers.

2) They steal in general: Especially from each other. Every toy. Every day, all day. I've been roommates in college with girls who have stolen everything from virginities to road signs and they've got NOTHING on these two. Teagan (the oldest by a minute) frequently goes from one side of the room, crawling and stepping over people, just to go over and push Caroline (the younger one) out of the way for oyster crackers. At least hold out for some Goldfish, child!

3)Blatant disregard for authority: That authority being myself...and their dad. They usually listen to their Papa (my father), but Caroline used to babble very angrily at him because he wouldn't let her pluck all his beard hair out by hand. And you know you're in trouble when you tell one of them for the 50th time to stop smacking the nativity set Virgin Mary around. And she stops, looks at you, smiles and then swats it across the table. Followed by speaking in tongues.

4) Enjoying other peoples' pain: I swear, if we had been followed around by a camera these past 13 months, we would have enough footage for 2 Firky Follies specials. I've stepped, kicked, stubbed and fallen on so many different items from food to toys it's rediculous. Don't even get me started on those damn child gates. They are for keeping babies and short parents out of areas. I feel like I have to be a freaking Olympic hurdler to clear those monsters. And the girls love every painful second of it. Not to mention they like to inflict pain of their own. Teagan once managed to lunge herself at me and break her fall by twisting my nipple. Through a bra and sweashirt! And she laughed at me like I was a clown. A crying, (now) 1 nippled clown.

5) Unreliable: It's like clock work. The only reliable thing about them is that they are unreliable. A routine is established, things are hunky dory. Until I rely on that 2 hour nap in the morning to get all of my housework done. (Forget it, who am I kidding? By housework I mean checking to see if my bed is still Downy fresh by sleeping in it.) Anyway, that 2 hour nap turns into who can turn their crib music up the loudest and throw their nuk the furthest and who can drive mom to drink unrecommended amounts of booze.

6) Unemployed: Right after the girls were born and we got our first hospital bill, it came billed to Teagan, because OBVIOUSLY a newly birthed child would be the breadwinner. Well, after we fixed that, she became complacent. Demanding. Whiney. Now before you say "Tara, how can you expect your wee ones to be employed?! They are just children!", remember, the Olsen twins had a tv show in syndication by this age.

7)Confinement: Most of the time, it's in their cribs. We no longer use a "baby jail" aka a Pack and Play because of lack of space. And I'm fairly certain the girls started to like it just to stick it to the man. They also have to be confined to their highchairs, car seats and strollers. Our house is also like a minimum security prison. Our windows have plastic on them, our doors are blocked, there are baby gates all over. But there was once an almost prison break. Teagan figured out how to place her plastic motorcycle right up to the baby gate, stand up on it and attempted to swing her leg over the gate. Brad and I were sitting close, so we botched that plan.

And finally

8)Cockblocks: This has absolutely nothing to do with my kids in comparison to criminals. But I just wanted to put it out there, because it's true and you all know this. (Plus I can use the word "cock" without sounding like a perv.)  Every time I think "I can't be a frigid bitch forever" and let my guard down, one or both of them start hollering and reminding me how we got in this situation in the first place. In stereo.

So there you have it. If any criminals have read this and are offended, I am truly not sorry.

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

"You potent SOB"

We were having a baby, great! Now I had to tell the other half of this "we" that I was pregnant. I came home from the girls weekend to find my house reeking of booze and full of hung over people. Not typical, but okay. I could hardly keep it to myself, but I wanted to wait until the guests were gone to tell him. We all went to lunch and I kept grinning at Brad like a moron, even though he was balls deep in a basket of hot wings, so he didn't pay much attention. I thought of all these brilliant ways to tell him, but I just ended up telling him I wanted to show him something and brought him into the bedroom. He barely got through the door before I whipped out the pregnancy test (he probably wished I had whipped other things out) and said I was pregnant. His response? "That's awesome!"

I was estatic, elated, all of the other obnoxious words, and I did the only logical thing a woman who is growing a tiny human would do. I Googled. I Googled "Percentage of False Positives" and the first response was "If you are using a shitty pregnancy test you got out of a podunk store that's probably expired and the test "X" isn't dead on center, you are a small percentage of false positives, you dumbass". Really, those were the exact words, more or less. Or not. So of course, I freak out, thinking I peed on the only expired, prehistoric inaccurate stick created and had to go and buy another one. I wanted to wait for the next morning to try, but patience was never one of my strong suits. A second one confirmed it, but yet, I Googled again. I decided to just go to the doctor to make sure.

I made the appointment and everything was good. Until I began having some complications. The clinic agreed I could come in the next day or wait until my appointment later in the week. I opted to wait.

My husband and I went to the appointment and was told that I could have an ultrasound. We were going to celebrate our first appointment by going out to eat at a nice restaurant. As a joke, Brad said if it was 1 baby, we could go to the nice restaurant, Victorias. If it was twins, we were going to Fazoli's. As I walked into the room, I had immediate visions of the belly scan and all of the warm and nervous feelings to accompany. Then the tech told me to drop trou. I thought that was odd but complied. Then I saw the huge "wand" the tech was getting ready and HOLY SHIT WHERE IS THAT GOING? I won't describe it any further for those that are men or that are squimish, but I can tell you that normally, for what the tech did, she would've had to buy me at least a 6 pack Mike's Hard Lemonades. Anyway, we were looking up at the screen and I was busy making sure there was actually a baby in there, because, of course, I Googled phantom pregancies. The tech said, "There is your baby and there's it's heart". She continued, "And when you turn it this way, there's the other one". Uh, I asked her "the other one what?" "The other baby. It looks like you're having twins, congratulations!"

My first thought was "Holy Lord, Brad put two of 'em in there" and the second thought was "I guess we're going to Fazoli's".

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Let's get this (baby) party started!

Seeing as this is primarily a blog about parenthood, I should probably discuss aspects on how we got to this point. My husband and I got married October of 2010. A guest at our wedding asked him when we were planning on having a child and he responded "Not for a couple years". Well, I had different plans I suppose. I had the itch. Not the nasty one that you may think, but the baby fever itch. I informed him he had 3 options and it was his choice. I wanted either a puppy, a guinea pig or a baby. He said guinea pigs were stupid and was ambivalent about a dog, which left one choice. We weren't really trying for a baby, but in no way were we preventing it (oh yeahhh).

Fast forward 5 months after our wedding. I was going on a weekend bender with my college roommates. I had been experiencing some soreness in my boobs (oh man, it's getting real now). I had confided in one of the girls, Potter, who said she had a test to see if I was pregnant. She was going to punch me in the boob and if it hurt, I was pregnant. So she punched me and it didn't hurt, so Dr. Potter said I was fine. I told her I should probably take a test just in case so she said in the morning we'd go to town and get one.

Well, the town we were in makes Bumfuck nowhere seem like a metropolis. I had to pee real bad and we took off towards town to the 1 mini store they had. I was running around the store looking as discrete as possible for someone who hasn't peed in 12 hours, but couldn't find the damn things. The only employee available was a 16 year old manchild. I didn't want to ask him but I didn't want to piss myself either. I asked him where the pregnancy tests were and he pointed to the front locked display cabinet. You know, the ones reserved for Class A Narcotics, ammo and apparently the shittiest pregnany tests on the market. While paying for the test, I made sure to tell the manchild that I was married, to wipe the look of disgust off his face. But in retrospect, I think that's just the way his face was.

So in a bathroom, at a  mini-mart, in the middle of nowhere, I did my thing and waited. 2.5 minutes later, I had my answer. I couldn't keep our house plant alive and my husband can't grow a non-patchy beard, but now, we were growing a baby.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Most wonderful time to people watch

I was able to sneak away for a few hours a couple weeks back and I found myself settling in at a busy restaurant to enjoy a little bit of people watching. But let's just call a spade a spade and acknowledge what it really is...people judging. No one sits and stares at people thinking to themselves "Oh, that person must be a really nice person, she must donate to charity and be a saint". Uh, no. You sit there and think "Who in their right mind thought today would be a good day to rock leopard print leggings?" or " That person's really loving life, standing there in neon fuzzy slippers on a 25 degree day". Now I know what you are thinking, who am I to judge? Well besides the fact that you are judging me for judging others (for shaaaame), I well accept the fact that everytime I go outside, people will secretly or not so secretly make mental jabs at my expense. I mean, come on, I still wear maternity jeans and the twins are almost 13 months old. To which I respond, I grew two humans at once. Plus, I like doughnuts.

So back to people judging. Almost everyone I know likes to go out and "people watch" but with the holidays approaching, it is really prime time to sit back and enjoy. It's not often you see people running around, high on seasonal coffee drinks, trying to save an additional $.47 or Buy 3 get 1 33% off. After the holiday, you'll have to settle for normal crazy while shopping or being out in public. At least until the After Holiday's Sale comes around.

NOTE: I'm not really that mean to everyone, nor do I judge everyone. Just remember, don't judge a judger. And those in glass houses can't walk around naked.

Saturday, December 1, 2012

Shall I or Shan't I Read This?

Hello reader,
 I talk alot and I write alot and now I hope to blog alot. First time doing this, so thanks for being apart of taking my blogging should feel accomplished. So what can you expect from this blog?

1) Stuff about being a first time mom. But not all that sappy lovey dovey shit or gushing over how cute/smart/talented my one year old twin daughters are (even though they are all of those, with a large splash of evil, because they are gingers).

2) Social commentary. This is just a nice PC way of saying I will exercise my American right to complain about everything. And judge others. Quite a bit.

3)Weekly specials, such as "A-holes I encounter at the bookstore" or "Throwback to a dumb thing I did in college".

4)Being as grammatically correct as possible. There will be no, "L8R Peeps" "TTYL" or "Wurd gurl". There may be an occasional "Ermahgerd" or spelling mistake. And as a sidenote, shan't is a real word and I used it properly in the title. I should know, I googled it to double check.

So if any or all of this sounds like it's up your alley, read away!

Disclaimer: I can't guarentee I'll be able to post on any consistant basis. Remember, I have 2 one year olds crawling all over the place, searching for items that will maime themselves, each other or me.