Taking inventory

What, two posts in a week????

Here's inventory of today, uh, well, technically yesterday, taken before 10am.

Hot breakfasts served (if you want the recipe for baked french toast let me know, yum) (5)

Cups of milk turned upside down to be swished around on the highchair tray (1)

Diapers changed (two of which were super duper toxic) (4)

Plastic cups and other assorted Tupperware items being flung onto the kitchen floor creating a hazardous situation for the person getting breakfast on the table (8-20 just an estimate)

Pantry invasions by marauding band of toddlers (3)

Puzzles dumped out and spread all over the floor (13)

Pieces of puzzles to be picked up (lots and lots)

Transgressive acts needing disciplinary action (ooo, forgot to count that one, lots and lots)

Interruptions of devotions and school reading (legion)

Bowls of soggy cereal made soggy because the person who poured the milk in got completely sidetracked and forgot that the bowl of cereal was supposed to be eaten before 1pm (1)

Confiscated items such as pencils or vacuum cleaner attachments used to whack twin sisters (3)

Plates once full of food rubbed on heads (2)

Heads needing to be washed of the chunks embedded in hair (2)

Minutes before naptime (60, and counting down!!!)

The breakfast that wasn't

I could never make a living being a blogger.  Here for your enjoyment:

The breakfast that wasn’t

 I was going to title this the “Quest for breakfast” to be a sequel to my “Quest for dinner,” but this was really a different experience.  Breakfast wasn’t my elusive goal, it just ceased to be.

 I don’t try to miss breakfast as I know it is a big no-no if you ever are trying to lose weight.  I’m always trying to lose weight since, it’s the craziest thing, I keep finding it behind me!

 The morning routine is usually: work out, get the twins, make breakfast for the kids, do devotions and start school while the kids eat.  Then I eat breakfast…usually.  The particular morning in question  there was a glitch in the system.  First of all the twins got up way too early and my 45 minute workout took 1 ½ hours.  They tried to help me get into shape by adding 40 + pounds while I did floor work.  One sat on my neck and the other sat on my stomach.

 Being a Saturday it wasn’t that big a deal, but by the end of the 1 ½ hours the WTs were howling with hunger.  To appease them, I put some small cups of cereal on the coffee table.  Not missing a beat, Kara quickly dumped both and became amazingly ambidextrous as she began to shovel cereal into her mouth with both hands.  Micah uttered something that sounded a lot like “Hey!”  Skipping the cups, I spread cereal on the table like chicken feed.  Apparently the spreading of the cereal looked really fun as the WTs decided to partake in that activity.  Lots of cereal on the floor.  That’s okay, I decide, I can pick that up later.

 Pancakes were for breakfast (from scratch, thank you very much).  I mixed in a little bit of insanity as I added mini chocolate chips as a treat.  Pancakes can take a long time to make, especially when your legs are covered with 20 + pound weights that are taking swipes at each other.  One weight disengages and relative peace reigns until I hear the squeak of the media cabinet open.  I glance up to see DVDs cascading out of the cabinet.  The WTs think those are cool books that have removable Frisbees inside of them. 

 Breakfast finally gets on the table; everyone (sans Mom) is eating.  I do our devotions and realize that I really should unload the dishwasher while my “helpers” are eating.  The WTs enjoy unloading the dishwasher, only sometimes the dishes are dirty.  Micah gets kind of bossy when he’s helping.  The WTs are allowed to take out the plastic plates.  For each plate he removes, Micah has to alert me with a “MOM!” and sometimes in rapid succession, “MOM! MOM!”  Sounds cute, huh? Uh huh.

 I don’t get far before WT2 (Micah) is frantically waving his hands back and forth signing that he is finished.  Without the security of confinement gone,  I figure I should go ahead and eat my breakfast .  One of the 3 OOs (older ones) announces that Kara is finished too.  I look over at Kara and two things enter my mind: 1) she is not genetically related to me as she does not care much for chocolate and so has not eaten much of her mini chip pancakes, and 2) instead of eating them, she has decided to decorate her head with them.  Not only that, but she began a game of “peek-a-boo” which only enhanced her handiwork.

 WT1 is quite pleased with her artwork and is beaming at me while I unbuckle her and scoop her out of her chair.  Immediately I discover she has scored a direct hit.  No warning, no hints, nary a clue.  For the sake of the weak stomached I’ll make this brief.  She has had the “blowout of the century.”  Let’s just say that her top (with the mini-chip pancake décor) and bottom matched.

 I head for the bathroom and sound the general alarm.  It’s all hands on deck for this one.  “Charis, get her some new clothes.” “Gabriel, get the baby soap,” “Daniel, get a washcloth and towel.”  Now apparently my eldest is “towel challenged” as I get this response, “So a washcloth and what kind of towel?”  “A towel to wipe off Kara, I’m giving her a bath.”  “So you need a hand towel?”  “No, a bath towel, I’m giving her a bath.”  As I am having this conversation with my eldest who is upstairs, I am talking irrationally to Kara.  I say things like, “Please don’t sit down.”  “No, don’t touch.”  At the same time, Gabriel walks in with Micah to show me that they are “hat twins” as both are wearing hats.  Cute, but now Micah is fighting to get down as he sees that Kara is doing something that involves being naked and water.  Now I’m trying to get Micah out and keep Kara in.  Charis comes with clothes that are a bit small for Kara, and Daniel comes in with a washcloth…and a hand towel. 

 The laundry is mounting at this point as more towels are needed to wipe the floor from tsunami Kara.  And there are her clothes which I considered burning at this point.  

 Just as I am finishing with her there is a knock on the door.  It’s neighbor Joe to borrow the lawnmower so he can mow our common strip of lawn.  We like neighbor Joe so I slip outside briefly to chat with him.  A loud thump comes from inside the house.  I excuse myself to investigate and am relieved that the WTs  must have just slammed the shoe bench.  They are now standing on the shoe bench playing “strobe light” as they can reach the light switches.

 With all the kids done eating, the 3 OOs are ready to do their Saturday chores (I win the “mean mom” award as my kids have no knowledge of Saturday morning cartoons, instead they do extra chores).  One of the chores is vacuuming.  Ah, now it is later and the cereal must be picked up (it could be vacuumed, but Hoover Kara will make good use of the cereal later).  Cereal and many toys are picked up.  I go into the kitchen and pour myself a bowl of cereal at last.  The vacuum cleaner gets turned on and Kara comes careening around the corner.  Oh yes, that’s right, she is scared of the vacuum cleaner.  That’s okay; I can try to eat one-handed.  That plan is thwarted as Micah runs over and pleads, “Too? Too?” (as in, “Hold me too?”).  I pick him up (I think I heard my back groan) and take the two of them into the other room.

 With one room finished, I note that it is now nap time (theirs not mine, much to my disappointment).  I change both diapers (uneventful, thankfully) and take Kara up first.  As I come down I see Micah walking away and notice a spot of something that looks like chocolate on the back of his shirt.  I do the smell test.  The smell test fails.  More laundry.

 I change Micah and put him down for a nap.  Since I am already upstairs I figure I might as well collect more laundry and do a load.  I also might as well take my shower.  As for breakfast, why eat breakfast and ruin my appetite for lunch?  Which will come…hopefully…

The empress and the tyrant broker peace deal

I think I found the key to world peace which incidentally is also the world’s most perfect breakfast food: chocolate cheerios. I gave the WTs some CCs as a snack, and put them in opposite corners of the room per my usual strategy. As usual, the earth’s magnetic pull caused them to once again occupy the same square foot of space. I kept a sharp eye on them in case I saw any vampiric (don’t know if that’s a word) tendencies emerging. I was thrilled to see them enjoying each other’s company. It began raining CCs and pretty soon the kitchen floor was covered. Micah began a great game of balancing cheerios on his sister’s head. She didn’t’ seem to mind at all, even when Micah began whacking them off. He thought it was hilarious (I think it was most funny to him when he missed). I got a little concerned when the whacking intensified, but Kara kept laughing. After a while at this game, they both started walking around the kitchen looking like they had some kind of pox with all the cheerios attached to their persons.

I think someone installed a revolving door in place of our front door. One day I had dropped the 3oos off at piano lessons and came home with the WTs. Here was my fundamental flaw: I let them loose. I unlocked the door and corralled one in. Ah, ha, victory is mine; I am halfway to my goal. I scoop the other one up, plop that one in the house, and scan for the other one. Other one has gone through the revolving door behind me. Grab the escapee, place escapee into custody only to find the other made a break for it. The process was repeated four times. By the time we were done it was almost time to pick up the 3oos (slight exaggeration, but it made for a good end line).

Itty bitty Lego pieces (especially when there are at least a hundred of them) are really hard to pick up off of asphalt. How do I know? Before we left to pick up the older boys from an event, Charis decided to use our back bumper as a storage space for her Legos. I reminded her that the Legos were there, but she was too busy involving herself with the goings on of the WTs. We both remembered about the Legos when we heard a big crash as we were driving down the street. Yes, the street and the Legos had a hasty introduction. Thankfully the street is not a busy one, so picking the itty bitty Legos out of the itty bitty cracks and crevices of the street was not as dangerous as it could have been. AS dangerous, that is.

I had a revelation the other day, but before I reveal my epiphany let me go back……I was in the kitchen chopping almonds for a salad (you know how hard those are to come by), when I came under attack. There was a full scale assault on my legs as I was flanked from the left and the right (hey, I watched “Band of Brothers”). Hungry invaders came rushing in, but I held firm in the midst of the onslaught. That was until one of my almonds escaped. Unfortunately I saw it at the same time someone else saw it, and I went for it at the same time a very chubby arm that does not contain a wrist reached out for it (you’ll never guess which WT that is!). That’s when everything went into slow motion. I called out “Nooooooooo Miiiiiiiicaaaaaaaah” as I lunged for the almond (which is a choking hazard, hence the need to reach it before the wristless one did). As I took the step into the lunge, I tripped over the other WT. This is when I entered “The Matrix.” There was nothing for it, I was going down. I could tell there would be casualties if I did not act fast, so as I was going down, I managed to twist my body to avoid both hostiles on the ground. My knee was the first thing to make contact with the ground. Knees don’t come with padding. Then my hip hit. That comes with padding, lots of padding. And in a move to rival anything Koby Bryant might do on the basketball court (and to prove that mommies pumped with adrenalin can do anything), as I hit the floor I extended my arm out and was able to catch in my hand the head of the impediment I tripped and knocked over.

I lay there clutching my knee and my mouth formed the word “medic!” but no sound came out. Now let me say that in the very next room was my older daughter who proved that she is genetically related to my husband as she continued to be engrossed in her book while this melee went on. The WTs for their part were wildly excited about my gymnastic prowess and started laughing and trying to dogpile me (those savages, no mercy).

As I lay there in pain, I had a flashback to another time that I lay in pain (no, I’m not even talking childbirth here). It was the time that child # 3 pinched child #2 and I went to remove child #3 from the area where #1 and #2 were playing. As I scooped up #3, I turned and my right foot fell into a hole. The foot did not turn when the rest of me did, and I went down. I was carrying #3 at the time and, again in slow motion, I turned my body before I fell so I would not fall on her. I saw stars on that one. The price for that was a sprained ankle that took months to heal. I guess I got off easy this time, just a really sore knee that I still can’t kneel on (try giving twins a bath being able to kneel on just one knee, not easy).

But as I was trying to get myself off the floor I had a revelation. I think I saw a white light and these words flooded my mind: Children are hazardous to your health. You think we can get the Surgeon General to post that one?

I do spend most of my time writing about the WTs, because, well they provide a lot of good material. Still, I do have the 3oos so I thought I’d give a quick update on how they are doing with the change in our household. Daniel as the head of the sibling clan is just a really even-keeled kid. He is happy to have yet another minion to add to his collection. Though he loves Kara and helps care for her, Micah is his boy. They have always had a close bond which I hope continues throughout their lives. Daniel informed me the other day that he wants to get married at the same age, on the same day, at the same time as his dad and I did.

Gabriel has met his match in “spasiness.” He and Kara are kindred spirits. He tends to help more with her as she responds well to him (Micah tends to whack him). After we had a conversation about possibly adopting again, I asked him if he thought our quiver was full. He responded with, “Our quiver is as wide as the Great Wall of China.” He’s our poetic one.

Charis flits between her two younger sibs. She is thrilled to have a sister and asked that she and Kara share a room. She said, “Even though she’s just a baby, I don’t feel lonely in my room anymore.” She is in her element and gets to do what she enjoys: telling other people what to do.

Well, I am trying to post every week, but well, you know. This particular post has been crafted over a week’s time on Microsoft word and imported into the blog. I’m pooped. James worked yesterday and didn’t come home until about 3pm today which means he was gone for about 5,000 hours or so (you know, just rounding up). If I ever meet an always single mom who has five kids and twins among them, I’m going to kiss her feet.


BTW, our social worker visited (story for another blog) and she told me that there is a phenomena called “artificial twinning,” which means that two children aren’t twins from birth but are raised as twins. Well, with artificial twinning comes artificial sanity, it just seems like I’m sane, but I’m really not.