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!