panic at the disco (bookstore)

today my heart stopped. not just a flutter. it stopped. chest pains. short of breath. tears on the brink. i lost him. i have had ohmyGodwhere'smychild brief bouts lasting one or two seconds. but this one was different. 30 seconds at least. i have never felt this way before. terrifying. now that my kids are fully mobile (think fast and furious) i have come up with strategies to keep them within eyeballs reach when in public venues. today i failed. i dressed them in the same color. black. since it is somewhat uncommon for toddlers. and i still lost one. here i am yapping about some stupid missing toys and today i missed a kid. C has a tendency to "stay put" if he finds something of interest. R never finds something of interest. so she is go go go. i was go go going after her. knowing C had found something of interest by way of an old school jack-in-the-box that had been modernized with a cute puppy-in-a-box instead of scary clown-in-a-box, i followed R to the rocking horse. then the bouncy balls. then the picture frames. oh shit. the picture frames. this calls for intervention. scoop. back to C. but now he's gone. ok he's got to be close. look. look. look. deposit R in stroller and snap securely. now i'm picking up the pace a little. now i'm running. frantically running around a bookstore knocking down other children with no remorse. just a "missing child" mutter as i go. notifying bookstore staff as i scamper. i am in a bookstore for cripe's sake. creepy crawlers hang out at bookstores. this is a known fact. now the tears are brimming. i am the worst mother ever. this is a bad made for tv movie. but meredith baxter birney is too old to play me. even rita wilson is too old to play me. oh God, it might be shannon doherty. bygones. then i see him. my sweet boy. nonethewiser that his mother is a bumbled jumble of a frenetic mess. he is calm. in the arms of a stranger (by the way. when does stranger danger come in to play? i mean i love that my kids love the world. kum ba ya. but the stranger love does make me a little nervous, particularly after this episode). so the stranger says C was in the other section pulling books off the shelf. i am sure this has happened to other people, i tell myself. and he is here now. but still. we're snapped in. and we're leaving the creepy scary evil confusing tangled jungle (bookstore) to which i vow ne'er to return. this would never happen at our library. it is a 10X13 space. and people know us. worst mother ever. i go to the elevator where i find our toddler rescue. and her four children. under five. this woman has four children under five. all present and accounted for. smiling gleefully. and she found my child. and she is a single mother. oh yeah. i'm awesome. i can't keep track of two and this woman keeps track of four under five plus one of mine. and she does it by herself. all the time.

this is cute but my child, at home especially, is much much cuter.

dearly departed

i'd like to take a moment of silence for the dearly departed (read: items in our home or once in our home that have bit the big one [bitten the big one?] due to mischief/curiousity/sneakiness/goodoldfashionedfun/furor/whathaveyou by one [or two if they work together] toddler[s]).

silence.

okay. seriously. things just vanish. and i clean up. all. the. time. multiple rooms. multiple times per day. to keep tabs on things. but there are several items that have gone missing. for good i'm afraid. this is in honor of you, white circle block that i amazingly found and then my dog ate anyway. sniff. you were a good white circle block. always went right in your round hole in the shape sorter. and remember that time we spent together when i fished you out of the nasty trash? that was so funny! oh we just laughed and laughed! ok i have to move on...

1. green wooden key to the melissa and doug key ring (survived by blue and yellow keys)

2. blocks #1 and #2 from cardboard stacking blocks (survived by 8 [larger/more obvious if in the trash can] blocks)

3. 8 or 9 or 23 ball pit balls that cracked, deflated, or otherwise expired (survived by 6,000 ball pit balls of various colors), which reminds me...

4. dora the explorer ball bit (this one didn't disappear exactly. they acted like it was eddie's castle...pouncepouncepounce)

5. the kid's ear muffs from the eyes, toes, nose book (the ones that cover the "ears" of course), which this may be a blessing since it's my children's favorite page. they flip right to it to say "uh oh" (there is not near enough room for me to mention all the various components of books that are long gone...instead of "lift the flap" somehow in our house it is "rip the flap"). can't wait to introduce actual paper page books.

6. my personal favorite snack trap: white with a penguin on it (survived by green, purple, and orange)

7. elmo's head from the book "so big" (survived by elmo's big bootie and big feet)

8. at least 6 plastic spoons taken from high chair to various places in our home. never to return. (survived by 57 other plastic spoons of various colors)

9. every "washable" crayon that we owned. ok i helped with this one. because how many times can you say "no mouth" really? and that is a "washable" mess i wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. wait i don't have any enemies. lucky me. that is a "washable" mess i wouldn't wish on a cast member from "the hills." (survived by the non-washable old school crayola crayons, though surely some of those have disappeared too. i'm just too lazy to count)

10. an entire box of hostess 100 calorie mini cinnamon coffee cupcakes (survived by no one. they were delicious. so i've heard.)


i miss you.

the way we were

yesterday i swaddled my kids. woo hoo. big news! mommy swaddling babies! bor-ing. snore. well. it is big news. because mommy didn't swaddle babies. mommy swaddled 20-month-old toddlers. well past their youthful baby days of swaddling. this makes me sound like mommy dearest, swaddling toddlers into little toddler straight jackets... not exactly. i was swaddling the only baby left in the house, a preemie cabbage patch kid (amanda jayne, or maybe it was millie rose, wait i think this one was the boy preemie...xander jameson, benny fritz? [you know those names were weird]. i can't believe i can't remember. i always remember stuff like this, even 25 years later). so i decided to test my swaddling recall with a quick trip down memory lane to swaddle, let's call him, xander. C and R are ecstatic to see the swaddling in action. it is the best thing ever. even better than the flushing of the toilet. even better than the flushing of the toilet while a small hand is in the toilet. ok it's not that good, let's be serious. but it is an art, you know. and something i am good at. still. should put it on my resume. R and C are so enthralled by my skills that they both go and get their own blankets out of their cribs. seriously cute. they bring them over to me. they want to be swaddled. they actually both are laying the blankets on the floor and lay down on said blankets. who says kids don't remember anything before they are three? they remember the luxury and security of the swaddle! long live the swaddle! so with all of this adorablecuteness, i must oblige. who can deny a swaddle request? now, it seems, they've grown a bit since their most recent swaddle. like 15 pounds at least. they're a bit leggy now. swaddling is not quite the same. but i did it. of course to do an appropriate swaddle, as professional swaddlers well know, i would now need at least a twin-sized blanket (no pun intended). the baby blanket isn't cutting it. i did have the mommy pang of ohmygoshrememberwhenyouweresotiny? wherehasthetimegone? not enough of a pang for me to reproduce a reproduction. but enough for me to hear "memories, like the corners of my mind" fairly vividly. oh babs. but then i am snapped back to reality because you know what? once those toddlers are swaddled in their toddler straight jackets, those kids are heavy. usually they can cling on to me in some fashion and help me out a little bit. not with the straight jacket. i'm doing all the heavy lifting. they're just laying. and laughing. at. me.

this photo has nothing to do with this post.

i should never blog before bedtime.

er i should never look up google images of straight jackets before bedtime. not pretty. curses!

misty water-colored memories...

b*tch, please

i know she is saying "peach." i know it. i know because she loves the peaches. and now she can verbally demand what she wants. so she is telling me she wants more "peach." but the thing is, it sounds like b*tch. sort of exactly like b*tch. and now that i've taught her some manners and she can squeeze out a "please" every once in a while...well, it sounds like she is saying "b*tch, please." emily post would be so proud. yes, my oneandahalf-year-old is telling me "b*tch, please." i hope you're saying that the right way in your mind. it's not like b*tch, please question mark. it's like b*tch period please period. i hear it with a hint of sarcasm but i'm pretty sure that's just in my mind. i also hear it in my friend george's voice. probably also in my mind. i also couldn't help but notice her saying it while she was looking at my shoes this morning. like b*tch, please. i know you're not wearing those shoes with that outfit. i would say that is also probably only in my mind. except she does really like shoes. and she has impeccable taste.

that b*tch

you're getting sleepy...v e r y . . . s l e e p y

it's totally working. i'm being brainwashed by the pottery barn kids. thank my lucky stars i have the wherewithall to recognize it. and snap myself out of it. because i see it happening. it hit me today when i looked at their retro play kitchen (so cute [wait...see what i mean?]) and thought, "only $1399 for the refrigerator and the stove? what a bargain!" that's one thousand three hundred and ninety nine dollars without tax. um, do they work? no. is there a self-cleaning feature on the oven? no. does the refrigerator also have an ice-maker? no. do they actually heat or cool anything? no. they do nothing. nothing. well the doors open. and close. that's a feature, isn't it? but is it a $750 feature? don't think so. i think our current oven is worth about $600. and it, you know, cooks things. we are frequenters of the pottery barn kids storytime (i'm up in the air on whether "storytime" is two words or one). have been for months and months. from the days where the kids observed storytime by way of their stroller because they were not able to "sit" anywhere for more than 15 seconds. ok, they don't "sit" now for more than 15 seconds but now they physically can do it if they want to. they just mostly choose otherwise. but we're getting better. so months and months of storytime at the pottery barn kids where we quickly browse the store and admire the madetolooklikerealgrown-upthings toys and toocuteforspit-up blankets, etc. we occasionally purchase a book or two. usually two. who in their right mind purchases one of anything with twins? i'm not starting that fight. they'll find things to fight over on their own. i don't need to facilitate that occuring. i'm an enabler but in that fight i'm the one who really loses. so i have wondered from time to time why in their right minds the pottery barn kids would host a storytime weekly, which lasts 8 minutes, and then release the children to run amok and play with and smash toys and mess up all their displays which the staff have neatly organized according to national pottery barn kids authority (made up) so that the giant stuffed whale (no, no, it's a toy) is placed carefully on the nautical-themed nightstand next to the bed-in-a-boat. those kids just charge through all of it like elephants (real ones, not toys) and divide and conquer. so why would they allow this? this is what i'm saying. this is why they allow it. because the elephants (kids) like the toys. they like the pottery barn kids. they go in there and it's the best place on earth. there are vacuums (purchased. and it really does work thank you very much. it makes noise. there's a removable dustbuster which has picked up a few dustbunnies even. oh my gosh. do you hear me? look what they've done! i'm like an infomercial for cripe's sake!). whoa. where was i? oh yeah. those national pottery barn authorities are brilliant. they've read the same book written by the national ronald mcdonald authorities and the national joe camel authorities. how can we get to kids, the younger the better, as soon as possible? and let's keep in mind p.s. it's really the parents (me) who like the stuff. it's very clearly me they are brainwashing. not my kids. sure R and C like the toys. they play with them. they have fun. but when it's time to go, a little snack-trap and sippy and they're fine to go home. sometimes they get a parting gift (read: book. ok there was that vacuum once. and the shape sorter. and the ice-cream cones. shit.). also a show of brilliance: creating toys that appeal more to parents than to the kids. kids don't have money (sadly). well they have some but i'm not breaking into a college fund to support the pottery barn kids. oh no. that could be where the brainwashing is heading. it will head there if i break the bank with a $2399 play kitchen (like how the price goes up?). here's the clincher. they don't even need the kitchen. they don't even know they want the kitchen. they are perfectly happy with their babytoddler plastictacious (just made that up) kitchen that is two two two rooms in one. kitchen on one side. living room on one side. and this thing does stuff. it doesn't heat or cool. but it has a radio that plays bad music. it has a faucet that makes water sound. it has a stove-top that makes sizzle sound. it has a light that turns on and off. it was $70. er, $0 (it was a gift). i will not buy the pottery barn kids kitchen. i will not buy the pottery barn kids kitchen. i will not buy the pottery barn kids kitchen. but it is really cute. for me.

i guess it's kind of nice. for a play kitchen.
but totally not worth $3299.

i'm a brat

apparantly i'm a brat. my friend's 5-year-old daughter was given a "bratz" doll (by her grandmother, much to my friend's horror). the young gal then referred to the bratz doll by my name. i look like a bratz doll. is that a compliment? i mean, you don't get any more youthful than a bratz doll, right? but you also don't get any more skanky er skankier (as far as a children's toy goes). and what are those clothes they wear anyway? um i never wear clothes like that. ok maybe i have worn clothes like that. but not likely around a 5-year-old. and not likely in the last ten years. i am terrified at the thought of what my daughter (or son [ahem]) might want as a doll in the year 2011. at the rate we're going. hawaiian tropic dolls in swimsuits with highlighted hair and orange skin and belly button rings and tramp stamp tatoos and worse than barbie measurements? long live the cabbage patch kids. unless those are headed for skankitrociousness (just made that up) too.

i'm guessing i'm second from left