There's a snow storm coming to NY. I just wanted to remind everyone to get milk. You should probably get eggs too. And bread.
ps-Oh, and whiskey for Irish coffees. Just a thought.
Friday, December 3, 2010
The other day, Lizzy and I were driving into the city. We were listening to 1010 Wins for traffic reports because that's what you do when you're in a band (read: when you're a mom). You stop listening to music and you listen to news and traffic reports in your car. At least I stopped listening to music. Except The Music Together CD from the babies class. Digressing...sorry.
As we drove through the mid-town tunnel, we heard a terrible thing reported on the 1010 Wins. They said Ricki Lake was divulging government information. Lizzy and I were taken aback.
"Ricki Lake?" I shrieked in disbelief.
"Wow...." Lizzy replied in a stunned voice.
"I went to Bucknell with her sister, Jenny." A fact I liked to reveal every single time Ricki Lake's name worked its way into a conversation. Jenny and I weren't necessarily friends, but she was in one of my classes. I can't remember which one, in all honestly. But she was. In a class with me. And Ricki did attend her graduation. So Ricki Lake has been to Bucknell.
I loved Bucknell.
She was so great in that movie Hairspray.
And I loved her in that other movie. You know, the one where Kathleen Turner murders someone for wearing white shoes after Labor Day.
And her daytime talk show. She practically became the Oprah of our generation. Or at least the next Sally Jesse.
And then she did a great documentary on pregnancy and giving birth called "The Business of Being Born." I basically planned my entire birth experience based on that documentary. It was actually Thomas' birth...and my experience, right? The documentary threw Sarah into such a tailspin, she nearly ordered a birthing pool as the credits rolled up the screen.
And now...she's a terrorist?
What a weird turn for the Ricki Lake story to take.
"Ohhhh..." Lizzy said, slightly befuddled. "It's Wiki Leaks."
"Ahhh," I confusedly replied. "I don't think his sister went to Buckell."
Then Lizzy and I sat in an Emily Vitella-like "never mind" silence for the rest of our drive.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
The babies are in a transitional period developmentally. They're starting to say enough words so we can sort've get through a day together. But they're still babies in the sense that they fall off chairs, though they insist they can sit (and stand) on them like "a big boy" or "a big girl". Or they think they can eat ice cubes and not worry about choking, or they can cut oranges themselves with the knife they've figured out how to get out of the silverware drawer I swore was baby proofed, or they insist on going to the potty even though I know I'm going to strip their diaper off just to watch them play with the toilet paper and flush. The problem with the potty scenario is I've got two babies, so if one is on the potty, the other is stripping their diaper off themselves, roaming freely around the house. And, well, guess how that ends. Even if you guessed right, you still need to push your imagination one step further. Seriously. Push yourself.
And I'm not sure who taught them these expressions - "big boy" and "big girl." I most certainly did not, and my actions are even more to the contrary. I still try to rock them in my arms (at 30 and 25 lbs. respectively) and feed them milk from their sippy cups. They play along for one or two rocks, but then even they seem a little freaked out by it.
Anyway, the point of my blog is this. On Thanksgiving morning, I made blueberry and banana pancakes for breakfast. And since that morning, I've been on a "pancakes for breakfast" kick. I'm not eating them...really, I'm not...I mean, a bite here or there...with no syrup...but I digress.
Today we had the babies three year old friend over for my now famous blueberry and banana pancakes. She lives around the corner from us. She's a little older, and a littler more versed in how to behave when there's only one alphabet train to ride. And as soon as she came in for her pancakes, I inadvertently bragged to her mom about what "great sharers" my two are, "even though they're younger", I continued on, "because, well, they have each other, you know, so they're used to having to share."
It was like they heard me say it. In fact, they did hear me say it. And from that moment on, the entire morning became the worst morning in the history of the twins. It was like the terrible twos started right then and there. This morning at 9:15am a milestone was marked. Thomas and Kate now have a before and an after.
I'm going to start feeding them oatmeal again tomorrow.
|Photo taken by my neighbor Patty just after pancakes. Fortunately, we're still friends. And don't let the twins fool you.|