Driver’s Ed, Mom-Style

                             

I used to not count multi-tasking as one of my stronger skills.  However, I can’t help but be amazed at the unbelievable amount of things I can accomplish all while driving 65 miles an hour down the highway.  When you have two demanding five year olds in the back seat, you’ll do just about anything to keep the peace.  I have injected, ejected, fast-forwarded, rewound and stopped movies from the dvd player, which is oh-so conveniently located in the back seat; I’ve gone on search and rescue missions for precious cargo, i.e. dropped crayons;  I’ve served as vending machine to dole out everything from sandwiches to lollipops;  I’ve provided encouraging feedback for coloring masterpieces;  I’ve repaired broken toys and throw-away trinkets (thanks to all of the chotchky kids’ meals toys that have accumulated in our car);  I’ve even broken up countless shouting and/or boxing matches — all from the driver’s seat of the family truckster while rolling along at anything but slow speeds.  I have to proudly toot my own horn because I’ve actually become quite an expert in the area of automobile multi-tasking.  So I had to laugh to myself when just the other day, my own dad fussed at me for sending him a text while driving.  His response was, “Quit texting me and pay attention to the road!”  If he only knew…….

Poop Pride

I guess when you’re five, the bigger the poop, the better.  My twins are often so proud of their toilet art, that they scream and scream my name until I come to witness the latest masterpiece.  They often come up with very detailed descriptions of the size, shape, and color of their work.  My daughter could hardly contain herself around Christmas when she had what she considered to be red and green poop.  And my son often likes to tell me what letter his by-products resemble.  Just yesterday he was so excited that he produced a very over-sized “s”.  Of course, many of these art exhibitions tend to be at mealtime, which is such an appetizing experience for me.  I’ve somehow learned to make myself immune to what I used to find disgusting and gag-inducing, yet another one of the many skills that motherhood has taught me through the years.  Poop schmoop!

No Zen in This Den

To say that our house is bursting at the seams with energy would be an understatement.  With two little munchkins running around, the volume tends to be on super duper high at all times. I’m not really sure I even remember what quiet actually sounds like.  So three times a week I try to attend my favorite yoga class to center myself and find a smidgen of peace. This past week, however, my down dog was sent to the doghouse thanks to the gassy woman behind me.  Just as everyone was tranquilly moving into the pose, she let one rip, and I don’t mean her pants.  It was so loud that it echoed throughout the entire studio, and I couldn’t help but sing to myself, “Who let the farts out?  Who?  Who?”  There was no centering myself after that.  It made it difficult to concentrate on deep nose breathing because I was anticipating more cheese cutting with each and every pose thereafter.  It definitely put a whole new spin on the mind-body connection;  her mind may have been telling her one thing, but her body was certainly telling her another.  So much for finding inner peace anywhere when you’re a mom…..

Thank You for Shopping, Again and Again and Again

It  is truly insane how many times I run to the grocery store in any given week. With twins, we are constantly running out of something.  I feel like I no sooner get back from replenishing the grub stock that I have to turn right back around and get more.  I am confident that my car could just coast on auto pilot straight to that parking lot.  And you know you are a frequent shopper when the people who collect the carts from outside recognize you each and every time.  I feel like they’re secretly thinking, “Doesn’t that lady ever make a list?!”  It was both rewarding and a little embarrassing when our grocery store ran a rewards promotion, allowing customers to receive free cookware after so many dollars had been spent.  I swear I racked up more pots and pans than I did from our wedding shower & wedding reception gifts combined!  If only someone would come up with a supermarket/spa combination or better yet, a supermarket/cocktail lounge — oh, the possibilities…..

To Pee or Not to Pee

So it goes with the territory that privacy and motherhood do not go hand in hand.  I have concluded that my twins must have super-sensitive radar that notifies them the instant I have to use the bathroom.  As soon as my fanny barely even grazes the toilet seat, I have a two-person audience for the powder-room party.  I have had to answer some of life’s most meaningful questions, listen to various renditions of kid tunes, examine and critique various pieces of artwork, and even break up some very heated wrestling matches all from the center of the coveted porcelain throne.  I never thought of peeing in private as a luxury, but as they say, being a mom changes everything!

Mount St. Laundry

One of my biggest enemies since becoming a mom has always been, and I fear always will be, the never-ending pile of dirty clothes.  We’ve trained our little minions to put their dirty goods in the hamper in the morning and at night; however, it is such a growing mound, that it literally explodes from the closet when they open it.  Every time that door is opened, I seriously feel like the ginormous heap is flipping me the bird.  And as much as I’d love to just throw down with it right then and there, I know that is one battle I’m just never gonna win.  I’d love to just say screw it, even if just for one day, but all that does is punish me.  The next day will be double the trouble, and I will kick myself for slacking.  Yes, I have had to accept the fact that the beast that is our dirty laundry has taken me hostage for at least the next decade or until I can train our little soldiers to help me defeat it.

My world is nucking futs!

So, here it is….my attempt at writing a blog.  In reality, I’ll probably only have time to type a few lines before my five-year–old twins come bounding in here for me to referee yet another Wii-fueled argument.   To say that I am a stay-at-home mom who craves the brain stimulation of adult conversation would be an understatement.  However, I am often embarrassed to say that I used to be an English teacher because I am so mentally exhausted most of that time that I can’t even form normal sentences!  I am convinced that my children have sucked the brain cells right out of my head.  We have been so focused on ABC’s and 1-2-3’s the past five years in our house that I sometimes forget that not everyone’s world revolves around a certain sponge-worthy resident of Bikini Bottom.  It’s really not quite the same thing to discuss the state of the economy with kindergartners, whose only ability to relate comes from how many coins they can fit in their piggy banks.  Don’t get me wrong; we have some very meaningful discussions around here, such as “where does my poop go when I flush the toilet?”   It would be so helpful for my mental functionality, however, to occasionally talk to someone over the age of five throughout the day – and the lady at the Starbucks drive-thru does not count!  And now, as predicted, it’s time for me to put on my black and white uniform and send my little fighters to their prospective corners of the ring.  Until next time…..