Monday, February 28, 2011

Twins

I have always been fascinated with twins.

Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen are about my age, so I grew up watching them on Full House sharing the role of Michelle. I remember when I found out that 2 little girls were playing 1 character, and would sometimes even trade out mid-scene depending on who was better at dramatic lines, and who had a better knack for comedic timing. I watched one episode 2 inches from the screen, hardly blinking, trying to catch the twin switcheroo, and I never did.

It boggled my mind. And then and there I wanted a twin.

I mean, think about the possibilities! Switching places. Having someone your age to play with. Never needing a mirror again. (This was a child's interpretation, remember.)

I even went so far as to lie about having a twin when I was in fourth grade. I had a pretty needy, semi-stalkerish friend who we'll call Susie. Susie started out a fairly normal friend: had the same class at school, ate lunch with the same people, would occasionally play after school... Then Susie started calling me her twin sister, even though we looked nothing alike, save for having brown hair. And she began calling me on Sundays to find out what I would be wearing each day of the coming week "so we can match everyday".

Days 1 and 2 were novelty-like, and I played along with it. She was my friend after all. Beginning on day 3, it was getting old. I had worn the "wrong shoes", she accused me, and ruined the whole thing.

Day 4 I rebelled. I was supposed to wear jeans, a red shirt, and sneakers with my hair half-up. Instead I wore a sundress, black shoes, and a full pony tail. (Note: I really have no memory of my actual rebellion outfit. I just remember it was opposite of what she expected me to be wearing.)

Susie was irate! And she let me know in no uncertain terms that whole day. And called me again that night to verify what I'd be wearing the next day. And THEN called the next morning as I was leaving for school to double-check.

She could be a little draining.

A few months later at day camp, I saw her running excitedly up to me. And I was not in the mood that day to deal with a shadow named Susie. So I lied.

She called out "Devyn!! Over here! What are you doing? Can I come??" And I kept walking not looking up. She caught up with me and grabbed my arm. "I called you, why didn't you stop? Where are you going? What are we doing today?"

I blinked in shock and lied through my teeth, "Devyn? Ohhh... Nope. Not me. I'm Sevyn. Devyn's twin sister. Devyn's sick at home today. Sorry."

(Sevyn was clever in my book of twin names. My twin had to be a girl, so Kevin was out. And our names had to rhyme, because that was my understanding of most twin names-- Mia and Tia, Sara and Kara, etc.)

Now. I don't condone lying. And I want the record to show that my lie about having a twin named Sevyn only worked for a short while, until Susie asked a camp counselor who knew my family if the twin thing was real. (I really should have thought it through a little better.) But I was a child. And desperate for my own space.

Caring for twins now gives me a whole new view of them that I had only guessed about before: the comraderie, the bickering, the I-only-want-that-if-my-twin-can-have-one-too, the affection, and the bodyslams.

And it has made me appreciate how many people will ask if the twins are identical. Even if they look NOTHING alike. And are opposite sexes. And then ask if you're sure they're not identical. And how do you know for sure.

I still think having a twin would have been fun. But the questions would have killed me.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

In the Absence of a Good Roommate

I am moving out on my own.

Soon.

As in, this summer.

I had my fingers crossed for quite some time that a fun, yet trustworthy roommate would appear out of nowhere for me to get a place with. But sadly, the internet searches were quite frightening, and after graduation, you are no longer assigned a reliable roommate by a much-more-knowledgable-than-you-about-such-things university housing staff, and most of my dear friends are flung out across the map in search of the elusive job. So, it looks like my roommate will be.... me.

Geez I hope we can get along. ;)

At first, I was really pretty nervous about the thought of living on my own. But then I started thinking it through more carefully, and this is what I came up with:

1) Most women I've talked to who have lived on their own have told me it was an amazingly delicious part of life for them, not answering to anyone, having a space that was 100% their own, etc.

2) What if 20 years down the road when I'm married (God-willin') with kids (God-willin'), I regret not ever having had the experience of the total and utter self-reliance of living alone?

3) I can decorate it any which way I WANT TO!!!!! Wahahahaha!

4) It will be totally and utterly mine. If I want to come home and relax and have silence, I can. If I want to come home and be loud and turn on some music and what-have-you, I can (I know, I know..still have to respect the neighbors...). And. If I want to not come straight home from whatever I'm doing, just spend a day going wherever the wind takes me, I can! (Not that I can't do those things living at home right now, but I mean, c'mon, it's different, ya know??)

5) All the horror-movie scenarios I have in my mind of the things that COULD happen, in all honesty hardly ever happen outside of the silver screen. And if something scary does happen, I have tons of friends nearby, pepper spray, a pretty good right hook, a scream that can wake the dead, and my big-girl pants. And I'm from Texas, guys. Someone getting the better of me? Yeah. Right.

Here are the things I still need to gather for my big move:

-Pots and pans. Being the true Southern girl, I have my eyes set on these ones. In red or black, I think. Paula Deen is my people.
-Silverware.
-Glasses.
-Cooking utensils. Spatulas, knives, sauce spoons, etc.
-A kitchen table. I like the bar table style (the taller table that usually only has 2-4 chairs). But I love a good deal even more! So we'll see what ends up happening...
-A small desk.

Apart from those things, I don't think I'm missing much. Whether I'm truly not missing much or if I just uttered my famous last words remains to be seen. Stay tuned!

And any prayers or good thoughts sent my way in (hopefully!) getting the apartment I want would be incredibly appreciated!!

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Beef with Aunt Bea

One of my primary childcare philosophies is that when the kids are going nuts, and no amount of redirection or "hey, stop that" is helping to calm their hyperactivity, then the project you'd like to bring into the equation the LEAST is the one you should do.

As warped as that sounds, it really and truly has worked.

This philosophy has produced Jello Wars, Pudding Painting, fingerpainting, and various cooking projects on rainy days when the kids and I are BOTH gazing longingly out the windows at the outdoor playset. And its turned otherwise-insane days into fun, memorable ones where each of the kids are completely plugged in to a group project. You know what Mama says about idle hands, after all...

However, this fail-proof theory blew up rather spectacularly in my face today, thanks to Aunt Bea. Some may remember this woman as the kind-faced mother figure from Mayberry, who doles out sage wisdom and homemade goodies as often as she draws breath on The Andy Griffith Show. However, I will remember her as being a lady to regard with distrust in the kitchen when she offers up an "easy as pie" rainy-day fudge recipe.

The rain was falling today, the kids were doing aimless laps around the house leaving chaos in their wake, no show nor movie would hold their attention, and they seemed determined to injure each other with whatever was in their hand at the moment. Going back to my afore-mentioned philosophy, I grabbed a few cookbooks and began searching for an easy recipe the kids and I could make together. In a Mayberry-themed edition, I found a seemingly-simple fudge recipe containing 6 ingredients we had on hand, 4 steps, and a smiling picture of Aunt Bea.

"C'mon Buddy!" I called, arranging chairs around the kitchen island for the kids to stand on, "Cooking project!"

"Don't wanna!" He called back, eyes glued to a Hulk show that had just started on tv.

So I went ahead with the twins, being enthusiastic, and teaching them each of the ingredients as we added them to the bowl.

Step 1: Mix sugar, milk, and cocoa.

"Sugar." I demonstrated, adding in the ridiculous amount Bea called for.

"Doogah!" They echoed, each sampling some.

"Milk." I went on, measuring some out.

"Mew!" Sissy repeated.

"Doogah!" Brother insisted.

"Cocoa..."

Each baby stuck their finger excitedly in this new ingredient, sampled it, and made a face.

"No!" Sissy admonished me, getting off her chair and leaving.

"Doogah!" Brother demanded.

Step 2: Cook until soft ball stage. Then add in final 3 ingredients.

Figuring the "soft ball stage" would become apparent as I cooked (why would Bea give an instruction that was not as black-and-white as she was?), I pulled Brother away from the stove and began cooking, stirring constantly so the milk-based mixture wouldn't scald. Losing interest quickly, Brother toddled off.

Stir.

Stir some more.

And more.

CRASH!!!!

"Buddy, was that you or the babies??" I called over my shoulder.

"The babies." He answered dully.

Knowing the fudge would surely scald if I stepped away, I put tons of excitement in my voice and gasped with enthusiasm, "Oh my gosh, Buddy, I have the best idea! Do you want to be my extra-special-all-star helper right now?!? And get to earn a treat??" (I planned on using him as a living-room spy, while I was stuck at the stove.)

"Nope. I'm comfortable." He said lazily from the couch.

Sighing, I turned off the stove, and went to extricate the babies from the midst of a toy avalanche they had joyfully created. Once the mess was picked back up, I went back to my post at the stove.

"Do you want to help yet with the fudge, Buddy?"

"Nah..."

Step 2: Cook until soft ball stage. Then add in the final 3 ingredients.

Mmmkay, Bea. I still don't know what you're talking about with the soft ball stage... And I've been stirring for a while...

Stir.

Stir.

Stir some more.

Shake off arm cramp.

Stir.

Darn it, Bea. This was supposed to be a fun project. Now I'm cookin' it alone, the kids aren't even interested anymore, and apparently, I don't speak Mayberry. Come through for me, here!

Stir.

Stir.

She lied.

Stir some more.

"Want to come see what's going on with our fudge?!"

"No. I'm gonna go to the bathroom." Buddy responded.

I can't believe Aunt Bea lied to me.

Stir.

And more stirring.

Nothing ball-like happening.

At this point, I called someone more domestically-inclined, who informed me that the "soft ball stage test" is where you drop a bit of your mixture into water, and if it forms a ball in the water, its done.

HOW IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY WOULD ANY NOVICE FUDGE-MAKER KNOW THAT, BEATRICE?!? What kind of "simple" recipe is this??

Dutifully, I dropped a little into a cup of water.

No, "soft ball", Bea. I think you make things up for kicks.

I gave up, added the final ingredients, and a few marshmallows for giggles (half of which melted) and went to the final step.

Step 3: Pour onto greased cookie sheet and allow to harden.

As I scraped the last bit onto the cookie sheet I was muttering darkly to myself.

"Stupid soft ball trick.... making things up... never made a ball... followed instructions perfectly... Whatever, Aunt Bea, you can kiss my butt...."

"WHY WOULD SOMEONE DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!?" Demanded a voice behind me suddenly.

After I disentangled myself from the ceiling fan, I answered Buddy's question.

"They shouldn't. I'm sorry. I wouldn't have said that out loud, but I was being quiet and I thought you went to the bathroom, dude."

"I just finished, and I wanted a snack, and I heard you." He cut his eyes at me.

"I'm sorry, Buddy. That wasn't a nice thing for me to say, even by myself. I'll say sorry next time I see her, ok?"

Satisfied, he walked off smiling, snack in hand.

Here it is now, 4 hours later. The kids are long-since napping. My fudge is still gooey. And I've made a promise to a 4-year-old to apologize to a fictional character.

One who LIES!

Not bitter. Oh no. Not one bit.
The finished product.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Speaking Toddlerese. Lesson One.

Watching toddlers who are still navigating the murky waters of speaking correct English can be cute, fun, sometimes frustrating (for both parties), and oftentimes ends with a small child's version of Catchphrase/charades.

Complete with the awkward gesturing, impatient jumping around, and over-the-top excitement when true communication is achieved.

The following Toddlerese words are ones which are used regularly by The Kids, and will be included in my forthcoming dictionary "How to Speak Toddlerese and Finally be Able to Decipher What the Heck They're Trying to Tell You".

Coming to a bookstore near you.

GUGACK- cupcake. Usually used to inform the caregiver that the child is feeling faint with lack of sugar and needs sweet sustenance poste haste.

GOOGEE- cookie. See above.

GIBAK- give back. Used in a variety of situations, such as when a sibling or caregiver has mistakenly taken something the child previously had, or when the child just wants it, period, regardless of who had it first.

MEW- milk. As in, give me some. Now.

MIMOW- Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Usually used as an all-encompassing way to convey "the show you're watching sucks, dude. Change it immediately to one I like. Preferably one with an animated talking rodent. Kthanks."

NAK- snack. Please see the general definition of "mew".

HUH- hot. Used ceremoniously as a chant while a child dances at least 6 inches away from a cup of coffee or oven or hair straightener. Conveys that the child knows not to touch said object, and wants to be sure you remember as well.

Lesson one, complete.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Valentines and Copyrights

For Valentine's Day, I had all these Hallmark-esque plans of sitting around the table with The Kids as they happily and neatly create the types of Valentine cards that parents tear up over.

As I gathered the art supplies from the far reaches of the house, I shared my plan excitedly with Buddy.

His response?

"Devyn. I'm not doing that. That's stupid. I won't make a Valentine. I think I'll just go to the store and buy stuff for Mom and Dad instead."

And with that, my Hallmark-esque vision crumbled into a pink and red glittery pile before my eyes.

No matter how much I talked about how fun it would be, and how much I bribed him (hey, this blog is a no-judgment zone) he refused.

Instead, I gathered everyone in the backyard so that the mess wouldn't be inside, and so that 2 of The Kids could frolic in the sunshine while I art-ed with 1 child at a time. Before I knew it, the twins were having their first true encounter with finger-painting (not 1 at a time), and were having a ball, while I was scurrying around trying (and failing) to keep everything fairly neat and organized.

The following is my conversation a few hours later with my darling New Yawkah. I love her.

"Man. I am so purple and exhausted."

"Tripped down stairs or marker fight with your nannees (my new made up word for the kids you nanny)?"

"Finger painting with twin 17-month-olds..."

"I was close! Pictures on blog?"

"Oh no no. If I had introduced a camera to the mix, the fit would have hit the shan."

"Not even to capture the aftermath? Haha, sounds fun though!"

"The aftermath was 2 nekkid (but colorful) babies, a dripping water hose, purple clothing scattered over the lawn, and a deep puddle of water on the back porch."

"That's the PERFECT opening line for a movie! Copyright that shiz!"

"I'm on it."

You heard it here first, folks!

Oh! And happy belated Valentine's Day!

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Because I Am So Hopelessly Behind...

I had a good long break from this blog from October to late January. Non-intentional, of course. I just suddenly found myself with less time on my hands to actually type things out as they come. And so now I am very behind on sharing some major developments.

Beware of my bullet notes.

  • I BOUGHT MY FIRST CAR!!!!!!!!!!!! The first one that's totally and completely mine, anyway. Before December, I had been driving my Dad's little pickup exclusively since 2003 (though he never would let me refer to it as mine). But anyway, I started getting really serious about car shopping as soon as I got back from Australia. Each time I had a free moment I was scouring dealerships' webpages looking for good deals. I found it was safer that way, being in the safety of my own home, protected by internet anonymity. A young woman, new to car-buying, not mechanically-inclined, alone, going into used car dealerships on evenings and weekends? The target on my backside could NOT have been any bigger. But, being on the internet and speaking with sales reps through email (primarily), being able to check their sales info against car websites, call them out on any gimmicks they tried to sneak past me, and then bid them against each other for a great price all led me to get a GREAT DEAL on a GREAT CAR!! I'm a little bit proud. ;)
  • The Kids are all so much bigger and different that they were in their nannylogs debut. Man. Let's start with Buddy: almost five years old (whoa). Still runs around constantly in his Hulk pjs. He recently lamented to his mother "But Moooommm, I only ever feel tough and strong when I wear my Hulk pajamas! Don't make me take them off!" On the plus side though, the foam Hulk fists? Its been quite some time since they have bashed me off-guard in the face. I don't know yet if that has genuinely passed, or if he is merely lulling me into a false sense of security.... I've been spending quite some time trying to get him excited for school in the fall, but to be honest, he's not too thrilled about it. I'm sure there will be more on that later. BUT. Ah man. THE KID HAS STARTED READING!!! I am so ridiculously excited! Now, he's not reciting Chaucer or anything, but he's got the basics down, and is starting to connect the dots on letter sounds and putting all the sounds together to form a word. From his booster seat in the car the other day, he confidently spelled out the word "bag" to his mother and I, with absolutely no assistance. It was a proud moment.
  • Brother is getting quite ornery with age. But he's so darn funny, with a mischievious little twinkle in his eye and impish grin. He spends a majority of his day chasing Buddy around the house, wanting to do absolutely everything that Buddy gets to do. Naturally, this has led to a few sticky moments, and I'm formulating a theory that little boys' bodies must contain some form of naturally-occuring rubber (with all the accidents that make me gasp and cringe, which they seem unfazed by). He is also constantly talking. While mostly sounding like an adorable minion, he's also got some definite English going on too. And he LOVES to parrot. And giggle. Its pretty stinkin' cute.
  • Sissy loves to be held. Not so much for the attention, but just to be able to see what you're doing. She's not one to lose composure over being set down, but given the choice she prefers to be up on a hip (has to be the left one too... she has her preferences) sucking on her fingers, observing. She is the only child I have ever seen who can be bribed with clothing. It doesn't even have to be hers. Just hold up a random shirt and say "Sis, what have I got here?" And she comes running, eyes shining, as fast as her adorably chubby legs will carry her. Such a smiley little sweetie. And she absolutely LIVES for getting dressed in the morning. As far as talking, she's started to parrot a bit more, and will say a few words, but is truthfully perfectly content to let Brother handle most requests and negotiations. She and I stick together in the house full of rough-housing little boys.
  • I have my feelers out to move this summer. Probably much more to be said about that as the time gets closer!
  • Multiple trips planned for this spring/summer! One MAJOR one to a big city, one RELAXING one to horse country... Both involving sweet friends who I don't get to see nearly enough for my liking. Pretty pumped!
I think that is about all for the bullets... Actual posts to come!! Thanks for indulging my Reader's Digest-esque catch-up session!