Thank You Queen Latifah

I've been mulling over this really great idea for a few days now - I think it would make a really interesting post. In fact, I sat down about 2 hours ago to write it, but I had to stop. I just wasn't feeling it. In fact, I was feeling pretty crappy. No, it's not because of the major cold and cough that we've all had for 2 weeks (although that *is* making me feel pretty crappy). It's because this day didn't end the way I wanted it to.

I had the day off from work, and Jasmine was here with the boys. I let her head out early today because it is Friday and because she is coming down with the cold that I *know* we gave her. She is never sick. Well, she *was* never sick - before meeting us, that is. So, I happily cleaned up the kitchen, put away the groceries and called my next door neighbor to arrange a front yard play-with-the-kids-impromptu-happy-hour as soon as the boys woke up from their nap. They usually wake up around 4, but at 4:30 they were still snoozing away - I guess still recovering from the crud. I got so anxious to see them that I sat with my iPhone in the chair in their room waiting for something to wake them up. When the phone finally rang, they slowly awakened, cute as can be. Then it all went wrong. The tears started. The NO DIAPER! NO TEE TEE POTTY! NO PANTS! NO MOMMY! started. I asked if they wanted to go outside....one did, one didn't. Foster didn't want to go outside. He didn't want a diaper. He didn't want a snack. He didn't want juice. He didn't want to go downstairs. And he DAMN sure didn't want me.

We managed socks, shoes, coats and hats and got outside where it was eventually happy again. Of course, the one who wanted to go out in the first place then decided he wanted to play everywhere he wasn't allowed to. I said, "this way"....he said "that way." I said, "No, THIS way"....he said, "Noooooooo......THAT way." He even did what my neighbor called "giving me the finger with his facial expression" that made me realize how MUCH of his father's son he actually is. It went on for about an hour, then we all went inside before we froze our fingers off. Dinner was relatively OK. Yancey's Mom was here to help (he is out of town for a couple days), and they were sort of well-behaved. Then, the wheels came off.

Bed Time. It just sucked. Crying, screaming, thrashing, refusing to have a diaper put on, refusing to brush teeth, asking for something then throwing it when he got it. I am specifically referring to Foster. I put him in his crib twice (which does involve zipping a crib tent, even more indignity) because I couldn't handle his tantrums. Each time he calmed down and came out sweetly. And then, something else set him off. I kept trying to remind myself that the boys are exhausted and don't feel well, but my patience was really nonexistent. Eventually, both boys were safely in bed, hopefully none the worse for wear. Not so much Mom. I tried to stay calm, but I am afraid that if you woke both boys up right now they would say, "Mom is mean."

So, that's where I was when I sat down to write a couple hours ago. I was really upset with myself. I mean, I watch SuperNanny....I read "Making The Terrible Twos Terrific"....I believe that kids are in need of boundaries, and if you let them get away with things, it hurts them in the long run....all that crap. But tonight, I am not proud of myself or the Mom that the boys saw. I was not in control at ALL. I am almost 4 DECADES older than they are, and not only did they run the show, but they made me feel like crap for letting them run the show. This shit is hard. And, not just because my husband is out of town. It's hard every day. But just when I was about to re-up on the ages old prescription for Prozac, I turned on the TV and flipped around. Next thing I know, I am totally engrossed in Beauty Shop, the awesome movie with Queen Latifah set in ATL about a - you guessed it - beauty shop. It's a sort of sequel to Barber Shop, the movie with Cedric the Entertainer and Ice Cube that I always thought was funny. In each movie, something happens and they almost lose the shop. Then they all band together, someone falls in love and the shop is saved. So simple, so heartening so mind numbing. And, as the credits rolled, I realized I felt better.

Don't get me wrong, I am totally going upstairs to stand in front of each crib and say my silent prayer/apology to those 2 little 2-year olds, but Queen Latifah saved me from doing it in tears. Now, I'm going to do it with a smile because doggone it, my shop is still open even though those little ankle-biters almost shut me down today!!!

Please...No "Coming Out Of The Closet" Jokes

Finally!! I have missed writing.....
It would appear that not only have I underestimated my free time lately, but I have seriously underestimated my ability to remember which of my many user names and passwords are tied to this blog. Many a night I have sat down, DaVinci Code-like, and tried to figure out which combination of numbers and letters would unlock my beloved journal. You will be glad to know that I have finally written it down. I'm sure I'll lose that piece of paper eventually too, but whatever.

Both boys are currently asleep with what I now believe are double ear infections, so a trip to the doctor is in our immediate AM future. Actually, that's OK, since the reason we first thought Y4 had a fever was because he had possibly swallowed a coin on Saturday, and I was convinced it was slowly burning a hole in his stomach and had finally become infected. The nurse told me that was unlikely - then she snickered - so I figure it's probably what I affectionately call a Double Double (twins w/double ear infections as known to a college basketball fan).

Of course, the probably-not coin swallowing happened when I was out of town on a fantabulous weekend with a great old friend - so great in fact, that we extended our stay an extra night WITH our husbands' blessings (we are both moms of twins with very understanding husbands). Yancey's friend, Keith, came over a couple nights to help Yancey and gad about town as the boys' Two Daddies. Not sure how much they milked that, but I would have liked to see it nonetheless. Keith told Yancey that he was loving playing with the boys while Yancey got meals ready.....he happily showed Yancey the handful of coins he'd given the boys to play with. To Yancey's credit he realized that was bad, checked their mouths, and made them spit them out. It was only after intense interrogation when I got home that he admitted that he could not with 100% certainty say that he got them all back to Keith. For some reason, the sight of 2 grown men completely capably handling twin 2-year olds endears me so much to both of them that I'm not even mad (anymore). PLUS, who am I to talk?? Another friend, Tillman, called us into service a couple weeks ago when *he* went out of town. He was boarding his dog and needed someone to pick him up and hold on to him until his flight got in a couple hours later. When Tillman called, I chatted with him and told him we were having a blast with the boys in the bathtub. Tillman said, "I really hope Trooper hasn't been too much trouble." And I said, "Ummmm.......no.....as a matter of fact, he's been no trouble at all. YANCEY - WE FORGOT TROOPER!!" Then I threw the phone at Yancey and ran. In the end, no harm no foul, but I went to bed at 9 because I was so ashamed of myself. So, me and my glass house ain't throwin' no stones.

Speaking of baths...our latest fun pre-bath activity (and by "fun" I mean it's what the boys do while Yancey and I lie on our stomachs on the bed because we are too tired to play anymore) has been Play In Mommy's Closet. Foster is now a pro at walking in 4-inch heels, and I am *so* proud that I have taught him to sing Beyonce's "All The Single Ladies!!!" My husband is not so proud. (As an aside, both boys were playing in their fleece hats upstairs tonight - thinking I wasn't paying attention - and they both started singing that song. Oh. My. God. I almost wet my pants. I got about 10 seconds of it before the video camera battery crapped out. Figures.) Anyway, the last closet game included the boys bringing my shoes out, one at a time, and arranging them in a pile in an order that only they understood. Now, I should admit that I have some shoes. A lot of them are expensive. I told Annie on her first night home that if she ate any shoes or purses I would take her back to where I got her (that's actually true). I love me some shoes. But, the shoes that they grabbed that bothered me the most were my tennis shoes. You see, my nickname in high school was "Foot." It's not that my feet were abnormally large (I think I wore an 8), but my legs were so damn skinny that most days it looked like was wearing skis. When I gave a speech at graduation, everyone on the stage started stomping. Good times. So, when Foster emerged from my closet with both tennis shoes and proudly yelled, "BIG ONES, Mommy!!!!" I almost cried. Ahhhh....I love that kid. And, although I now love my feet (as long as they are ensconced in designer shoes), it's no wonder I don't ever excercise - then I'd have to wear the Big Ones!