Part of me wants to update you on what's gone on with our children as of late. The other part of me wants to dig into what I've been thinking about on a deeper, more spiritual level.
To completely change the subject, I'm considering two new creative projects:
1) Uncovering my hidden dancing talents.
I put on a Jenna Dewan-Tatum video from the movie Step Up. I put on my best dance outfit- loose top and leggings- typical hot dancer wardrobe. I've always assumed that as I'm rhythmic and musical I must secretly be capable of dancing. I assume far too much. The two arts are painfully different, and I should've known that. It's the very same reason I can't do the breast stroke. I'm coordinated when it comes to a basketball or football, but put me in water or try to make me look graceful and I'm completely lost. Imagine putting a giraffe in the middle of the ocean- that's me in the shower. Forget trying to breathe and move efficiently in water, I can barely wash my hair with a constant stream of water nearby. Back to Mrs. Tatum- I stood in my basement facing the harsh reality of my iMac and watched the first move, or step, or 4 count of her solo dance...whatever it's called. She dramatically threw her head back so it was parallel with her breast bone and I swear her ponytail brushed her bum. I let out a pathetic breath and almost a swear word, then Ctrl+Q'd that crap. I so wish I could dance beautifully, but I'm pretty sure being able to touch your toes is a pre-requisite unless you want to look like your great aunt rain dancing at a wedding...so until next time I forget that I'm as flexible as an oak tree- Emma can't dance...at all. My dear, sweet best friend loves posting videos of old drunk men dancing through fairgrounds with arm-fulls of kettle corn and then she tags me, I need to embrace the reality that it's apparently no secret how much dancing talent I don't have. Moving on to my next creative project---
2) Re-creating pop songs to include a message of hope around Jesus and His undeserved gift of love. So far I've pursued this as far as listening to the pop station and ad-libbing praise songs in the small breaks of quarter note bass drum. Here's an example: (Original Lyrics) [Adam Levine:] If I got locked away
And we lost it all today...
Tell me honestly...
Would you still love me the same? 'Yes He does'
If I showed you my flaws 'He already sees them'
If I couldn't be strong 'You don't have to be'
Tell me honestly
Would you still love me the same? 'With a love you've never known'
It's going to take off. Don't hold your breath, but I got a feelin.
Enough of my creative projects.
I guess I'll take the road of funny blog post about kids as I don't feel my heart is quite ready to go the other way yet.
Here's the twins summed up in a sentence- two parts, one semi-colon. They are well-behaved for their father; they are not well-behaved for their mother. What do I mean by that? Well little lady, I'm glad you asked.
Andy watches the boys all day throughout the week and I'm thankful they're good for him. It's okay, really. I'd rather have that, after all he's home more so I would hate for him to be tortured the way I am when alone with the demons...I mean, children. All I guess I could ask for is a little middle ground- the switch just flips the second he's gone. My composition teacher taught me not to use supporting adjectives like 'just,' but I'm sure she wouldn't have liked me using 'feelin' without the G at the end a few paragraphs ago either. Bless her A- and vague corrections giving heart.
Andy left last Thursday upon my arrival home from work. Andy went to the gym. Andy went to the GYM, not to Mars. It felt like Andy went to Mars.
In the hour he was gone, there was one bloody nose, one pile of puke, several piles of chewed-on oatmeal, and the rest of the floor was moist with baby lotion, toddler tears, and mommy tears. It was an hour, and I'm their mother, I feel like it should be easier for me. As Andy and Charlie pulled out of the driveway, Sawyer, Luke, and I pressed our hands against the front window and tried to let it soak it in that he was really leaving us...together...alone...again...after he knows what happened last time. We gave each other a knowing glance and the madness began. I'm not sure about the boys, but this is how I remember the hour.
Lucas immediately left the window and bee-lined for my leg like I'd been gone for months. All at once he directed all of his attention to making sure I picked him up and never put him down. Luke would have nothing less, and began screaming like a starving seagull stuck in a tar pit when I didn't pick him up right away. I finally broke loose and tried to subtly reach for a banana, but his eyes got wide and he dug is fingers back into my legs- how dare I consider eating something and not offering him 90% of it?
Sawyer had different ambitions. While he knew Luke was desperate for my undivided attention along with anything he could swallow whole, Sawyer would rather see just how many devious acts he can accomplish while I'm busy detaching his twin from my personal bubble. Sawyer grabbed as many electronics he could get his unusually grabby hands on and headed for the toilet. Without hesitation, the phone charger, remote, and part of the dust buster went in the porcelain throne. He then completely unrolled the toilet paper before moving on to the next potential crime scene. By what Sawyer managed to do in 90 seconds, one would think I'm negligent and busy doing self indulgent things like...I don't know, I'll go crazy here... peeing alone, or taking my heels off. Sawyer landed himself exactly where he knew he was going- in his crib, which he's forgotten he can escape from. Luke couldn't leave well enough alone so he forced his way into their room and kept Sawyer company, which consisted of taunting Sawyer by dangling toys, pacifiers, and blankets over the edge of the crib and then running away with all three. Wonderbar.
I was still fishing cords out of the toilet when I heard a farting sound. Hmm, Andy did give them hotdogs earlier. Gas is normal, I can leave that alone and finish this, right? Wrong.
Passing gas was not what I was hearing. What I was hearing was a 22 month old squirting baby lotion everywhere he could. God didn't bless me with a girl, but I feel like if He had, Paisley Kay would've shamed her brothers out of doing some of the things they do. I'll never know. What I do know is that there are far too many "pee-pee's" at the yellow house on Goodview Ct.
I walked in not a minute later to 90 sq ft of hardwood floors nearly covered in lavender scented lotion. In a crib to the left was a naughty electronic-destroying toddler with lotion in his hair and to the right- a naughty needy/taunting toddler with all the blankets, both pacifiers, and an empty bottle of lotion as he stood dead center of ground zero.
Naturally, my solution to the twins' behavior was food. They both like food right? I shut the bedroom door and went to the kitchen. Andy had now been gone nine minutes. I started the microwave and the thought crossed my mind, could I try and scramble two eggs for myself as I make their oatmeal?
Silly mommy.
I scrambled the eggs, partially, the whites at least. I poured them on a paper plate and let the twins out of their room to come sit down in their seats for a nice oatmeal snack. No sooner did they emerge from their room than Sawyer caught a glimpse of a plate he wasn't being fed from. Next thing I know I'm standing on the recliner while my sister tries and contains the twins from the base of my furniture so I can try and ingest a few calories. We finally, collectively contain the children and secure them safely in their seats.
I started with Sawyer, only because he had become completely defiant in the face of sharing any of his food with Luke. I thought if I fed him first, he wouldn't notice if I fed Luke the rest of the bowl.
Silly mommy.
He caught a glimpse of only one bowl on the counter, saw right through the act and flipped out after his third bite. He spat out the bite of oatmeal on his clothes and on the floor while simultaneously reaching his hand in the bowl and throwing as much as he could at my face. I took him out of his seat, figuring he clearly wasn’t hungry. I took Luke out too so the two of them could go play while they built up more of an appetite.
Silly mommy.
At that point they were both upset about knowing a bowl of oatmeal have been prepared and yet neither twin was being fed. Luke took his hunger and aggravation out on Sawyer and backhanded him- Sawyer's nose began to bleed and at the site of Sawyer's pain Luke realized his crime and broke down. Not a foot from Sawyer, Luke began to cry so hard that he gagged, and then threw up the 98 cheerios he stored in his cheeks after lunch.
Andy had now been gone seventeen minutes and I had a phone charger still in the toilet, a greasy lotioned wood floor in the twins room, a bunch of spit-up oatmeal on the kitchen table, a puddle of blood from Sawyer's nose on the living room rug and now a clump of cheerio puke about 6 inches from the blood puddle.
At that moment a mutual friend of my husband and myself texted Andy and I in a group message- and I saw my husband give a funny retort in the group message. My heart reactively filled with frustration and between my 14 hour day of work and my 17 minutes of terrible-two twin time, I begin to conclude that it was completely uncalled for that Andy would ever leave us knowing how they act when he’s gone.
It felt like decades, but eventually I heard the knob turn and in walked relief in the form of one wonderful man- Daddy. Sawyer lifted his head out of the trash can and Luke dropped the toothpaste. They both ran to the gate above the entry stairs and simultaneously dropped their ears to their shoulders and bore their biggest smiles. "Da-dee, da-dee!" One might assume jealousy would hit me like a wave but I was already half way to my closet where I knew I'd find a five minute recovery experience including but not limited to putting my head between my legs and rocking back and forth in the fetal position.
Talk about humbling. Talk about frustrating, embarrassing, and confusing. I'm these boys' mommy. I'm supposed to have control of this like I do my business, and yet I have none. It's at this moment that I remember the Wednesday Lucas Andrew and Sawyer Rodney were born. I remember the fear, the surrender, the thousands of prayers that were lifted for these two crazy kids. Twenty two months later they run, play, eat, fight, talk, and love like other little boys and we never could've dreamed that they ever would.
Even on the messiest, bloodiest, stinkiest days, I try and remember to thank Jesus for my husband, for my siblings, and everyone else that helps keep my children alive and happy. Thank Him for His provision in my babies' lives. Thank Jesus that I have a bed to fall in tonight. Thank Jesus for His grace in my life as I fall so very short in so many areas.
That’s all I have for now. Until Andy abandons me again, goodnight from Goodview Court!
