Star Wars

Ana Banana has a friend of a friend at school that has gotten the entire class interested in "shooter guns," karate, and Star Wars. Do you know how hard it is to find a Princess Leah online that doesn't cost upwards of $50?

Luckily, Target had a 3 character set, including P.L., and we picked up an R2-D2 to add a little robot action to Ana's play. We didn't count on R2-D2's name being the tongue twister of the year.

Mommy, let's play! You can be Arty-Tooty.

I can be what?

Arty-Deety-Tooty.

What?

Argh-Dee-Two.

What?

Can you just play with me?

Pillow Talk

Reed: Sofia, did you hear the one about...?

Sofia: Ahh haa haa!

How Not To Keep A Secret

Scott and Ana went out present shopping for me yesterday. Ana is not known to keep a secret well so Scott talked to her ad nauseum about not sharing with me what they bought. She mostly got the picture.

Walking in the door...

Mommy! We're not going to tell you what we got for you!!

Good Job, Ana. Mommy, we're keeping it a secret this time.

So, Daddy. Can we take out the lipstick now?

Creative B.S.

We were driving home from the Nutcracker, listening to music in the car. Oh, alright... the van. As Scott was changing stations, Ana's ears perked up at a Britney Spear's song - Piece of Me.

Mommy, why does she say, 'Do you want a piece of me?'

Um, because, she made a paper doll of herself and cut it up into little pieces to share a piece of herself with all of her friends.

Oh! That was kind!!!

Scott turned to me with a look of semi-fear... You're a little too good at this creative b.s. thing.

Yes... but I use my powers for good, not evil...

Ana Is Thankful For...

The Tuesday before Thanksgiving, Ana's preschool class had a feast, with parents included. The menu was to consist of homemade family favorites. Thanks to a friend, who insisted that we needed drinks, our homemade family favorite was store bought cider. Yes, I was that slacker.

Ana was a slacker of a different sort. She participated in all of the art activities - she had a super cute Thanksgiving placemat with her picture on it, even if the teacher did use something resembling a brown rear end, or as another parent saw it - brown saggy boobs, as the turkey's body. She also had a picture in the "I Am Thankful For..." collage that was hung up on the wall.

I joined the other parents to admire the cute artwork, reading things like:

I am thankful for my brother.

I am thankful for my dog.

I am thankful for my Mommy and my Daddy.

And then there was Ana's...

I am thankful for ME.

At least the girl is honest...

Sleep Deprivation

Sleep deprivation will do crazy things to a girl... and to her husband. We are better now. I suppose we've adjusted to 5 hours of sleep a night, in chunks of an hour and a half or so, but during the 3rd week, the baby poopie hit the fan.

Picture it. 2 a.m. 3rd feeding since we've gone to bed. Sofia is crying.

Scott! Can you bring me Fiona? No... wait.. that's not it. (Long, long pause while the correct name is searched for in the memory banks. Sadly it is not found.)

Um, just bring me the one that's not named Fiona.



Different night. 4 a.m.-ish. 4th feeding since we've gone to bed. Scott has just finished changing Reed and has brought him to me to trade him out for Sofia, who I've been feeding.

Babe. Hand me Reed.

Why?

I need to change him.

You just changed him. You just gave him to me.

No I didn't. I changed Sofia.

No, you changed Reed.

No, I didn't. I changed Sofia.

I promise. You just changed Reed.

Oh, that's right. I remember I saw a penis.


And they actually let us out of the hospital with these children...

Monday Musings... a.k.a. Triplets

I am going to try to dip my toe back into the water that is blogging. So far I've managed to post twice since Reed and Sofia were born, but I have also managed to shower around twice, wear clean clothes around twice, and cook a real meal around twice. Okay, that last one might have been a slight exaggeration.

Actually, it's been a lot easier than I expected, but if you ask me about it in the middle of the night, you'd probably get a different answer. Given that, I'm going to strive for the lofty goal of posting on Mondays and working my way up to more frequent posts from there. It's been a long time since I've written, so forgive me if I hop around in time. I'll just pretend it's a literary strategy that I'm employing...


Me and Ana at the hospital. Release day. Wanting to make Ana feel special.

Ana, why don't you and I take a walk down the hall to the little kitchen? They have pudding cups there, but they're only for big sisters. Sorry, babies, you won't be able to come.

We set off down the hall hand in hand when Ana suddenly flinches. She is remembering my prior restrictions of strict bedrest in the hospital.

Mom! You're going to get in trouble!! You have to be in bed!

No, Honey. It's okay. Now that the babies are out, I don't have to stay in bed anymore.

Oh... but... (points to my belly) You still have another baby in there.

Thanks, Ana. Just what I needed...

Trick-or-Treat Old Lady!

We had fun wandering the neighborhood with friends last night. Ana and her little buddies were so excited that sometimes they forgot their manners, so we had a little talk about that. apparently it stuck with Ana because she upped her game at the next house. Proud of herself she ran to me right away to tell me about it... in typical can't not hear her voice fashion...

Mom! Mom! I told that old lady thank you! She gave me a candy and I told that old lady thank you!

Next scheduled talk... why we do not refer to older women as old ladies...

'Dem Babies Are Here!!!

Sofia Britton Bogle and James "Reed" Bogle came into the world Saturday, October 1st at 12:49 and 12:50 p.m. Sofia weighed 5 lbs. 6 oz. and Reed weighed 5 lbs. 7 oz.

They are doing wonderfully and have very quickly taken over our all of our waking moments (which seem especially to occur at nighttime) and even more importantly, have taken over our hearts. Big sister is equally besotted and makes us so proud.

Here are some pics Scott took with his phone after their first bath. I'll put more online sometime in the next day(s)(sssssss) - it's amazing how little I manage to get around to other than feeding these two new little people. And how much I love it that way!

You Know It's Time To Leave The Hospital When...

1. You have the hospital menu memorized.

2. You find yourself talking to the crow - more than once - that lands on the roof, which is the view from your window. And he has a name.

3. Your doctor calls to ask, and I quote, Is my patient STILL pregnant?!?

4. You hit a new low. You watched 5 minutes of Geraldo before you realized what you were doing and made yourself change the channel.

5. You also bawled your eyes out while you watched the episode of Friends where Rachel gives birth. But then again you bawled your eyes out at Medium. And yes, I watched that too.

6. Your 5 year old can lead the way to your hospital room.

7. You are 100 minutes over on your cell phone and your cycle date doesn't end until October 6th.

8. You have become waaaay too skilled at taking a shower while sitting down and holding your IV arm outside of the shower curtain.

9. Your belly lists to the left when you stand up because you spend all day lying on your left side. Hopefully someday it will go back.

10. You find yourself asking questions of visitors like, What does the outside feel like? and Did you eat any good food last night?

I'm busting out tomorrow! The nurses have literally taken bets as to how soon I'll be back so we should be meeting these two by the end of this upcoming weekend... if not tomorrow. The doctor stopped labor again this past Saturday so that was the THIRD time my body tried to evict its tenants. I'm thinking it's trying to tell us something. Posting might be pretty spotty for a bit but we'll definitely post on here when the babies come. Can't wait! :-)

Dating My Husband

This hospital stay has been good for my marriage. Well, sort of... In one definite way it has. I talk way more to Scott from the hospital than I do at home. Make that Scott talks way more about detail-ish things to me.

So far we have chatted through TV commercials while watching the same show. At home we would have just fast forwarded. I also realized that yesterday, on the phone, I actually got a lengthy answer to How was your day?

Here is my new plan of attack. When I finally bust out of this place, I am going to go upstairs each evening with my cell phone. I'll call Scott downstairs and ask him how things went at work and then I can actually find out! I think I might be on to something!

A Visit From Ana

Banana came to see me in the hospital on yesterday. Clearly she had dictated the morning's accessories because she was dressed in navy and red, with a pink flower headband. We had a great visit, other than my stomach getting bumped, patted, and squashed multiple times in the course of the hour.

On her way out the door we had the following exchange:

Mommy, you can keep my headband. It will remind me of me.

It will remind me of me?

No, of me.

Oh, you mean it will remind me of you.

Yes.

That's very thoughtful. Look, this is how I will sleep tonight (pantomime cuddling with the headband)

Never mind. (snatches it back) It will remind me of you. No, I know - it will remind me of me.

The world clearly does not revolve around this child...

Timing Is Everything

Dear Doctors and Nurse,

I realize that you are used to talking about various bodily functions all day long, and that these things probably no longer phase you, but I assure you that this is not necessarily true of my visitors.

Therefore, it was a bit awkward - ALL THREE TIMES - when you came in and talked about my intestinal distress and the lovely sample that you took - IN FRONT OF TWO DIFFERENT GUESTS.

I particularly liked your expressive use of language, Nurse, when you remarked at how quickly I must have "blasted that sample out" because you didn't have to wait very long. I am also thankful that you didn't come in to discuss these things with me when the REVEREND from Ana's little preschool was visiting. As Ana would say - Aw-kward!!

In the future, should you want to discuss these types of things with me, maybe you could use a code phrase so that I know to tell my guests that they might want to step into the hall, allowing them to avoid pretending that they actually wanted to check out the ceiling. Maybe we could use the phrase "beef tacos" as I am still not convinced that Wednesday's beef taco night was not what set this off. It would also enable my husband not to practically asphixiate on his own saliva as he laughs so hard.

Thankfully I seem to like to tell my embarrassing moments in a very public way anyway, and the two guests that you shared such riveting information with are very good sports, but I do think you might want to review your policy on such matters.

Loosely,

Your Patient

Pretend Play

My big girl is getting a warped view of the whole childbirth process as a result of this hospital stay. She told me over the phone what she and her dolly were up to:

Mom, my baby just won't stay in my belly! She is driving me crazy!

Oh yeah?

Yeah. I have to stay at the hop-sital because she keeps trying to swim out of here. Settle down, baby! I'm like, awk-ward.

What do the doctors say?

They say I have to stay in the bed and watch TV so the baby stays in me.

Oh, so it's the TV that does it?

Yeah. Cartoons.

Tattling On Daddy

Scott decided to watch a movie at home with Ana to kill some of the single parent time that he has lots of these days. Ana was not pleased with any of the choices he gave her, but as he was flipping channels she spotted a Scooby Doo movie starting and said she wanted only that.

Scott told her that we don't watch Scooby Doo because it's too scary and Mommy wouldn't like her to watch it either, but apparently she was very persuasive. He felt encouraged that she watched the whole thing without covering her eyes once and thought that he might be in the clear. That was until they called me from the car on the way to the hospital to visit:

Mommy! I watched a scary movie! I'm sorry!

Ana, don't tell Mommy that. Way to rat me out.

Mommy! I watched a scary movie and now I'm going to have nightmares!

Oh, great. Thanks, Ana.

Oh no! I'm having one right now!

Update

Well, the little bitties have stayed put and I haven't needed anymore drugs, which has been a relief. We have heard from insurance and now have a plan for how to proceed.

I will stay until a week from this upcoming Wednesday (36 weeks) and then they will send me home. The act of going home will probably start things up again so I'll just come right back in and deliver. Of course, I could deliver sometime in the next 12 days making this little plan irrelevant, but the big goal is to hang on until this upcoming Wednesday so that we avoid an automatic NICU stay. At the rate things are going, I think that we will have no problem meeting that goal, but clearly I am in charge of NOTHING here, so I don't want to say that too loudly so that these little people don't decide to prove otherwise.

So far brother still moves around like a fish, both babies heartbeats are strong, and apparently they like contractions because instead of their heartbeats dipping, they actually spike - "The babies get excited when you contract!" Lovely... they already like to torture their mother...

On another note, trying to paint your fingernails while your legs are being massaged by compression stockings will only result in disaster, unless you were going for an Impressionist effect. And, it turns out, the beef tacos are not a good choice either. Pray for me - lunch is beef stew. Good times.

Notes From The Hospital...

1. If you think you are in labor and are scrambling to run out the door, check that what you thought was Chapstick that you threw into your bag is in fact Chapstick. If you are like me, you might discover that you brought a glue stick. I'm sure Scott would give a thumbs up to its use during football games, but it is not effective for softening the lips while on bedrest.

2. If your dinner choice is beef tacos or seafood plate, the obvious choice is beef tacos. In my opinion, ordering the seafood plate is just asking to be sent to the hospital, which is counter-productive as you are already there.

3. If you ask your husband to bring you some big t-shirts and shorts to wear while in bed, you might want to be a little more specific about the shorts thing. If you are like me, you will end up with 5 pairs of men's boxers. Very comfortable at home and generous of said husband to share, but not too respectable when you are entertaining visitors.

4. It is possible to Keep Up Waaaaay Too Much With The Kardashians.

Baby Drama

Hi All,

Here is an update on things around here. Not funny, but definitely informative.

Friday morning I was having contractions and was told to head on in to labor and delivery. Sure enough, they were real contractions, but because of the surgery I had back in April, it's impossible ever to tell if I am dilating. So, since the babies were 33 weeks at that point, they decided to try to stop things. Magnesium IVs and steroid shots in my legs to mature their lungs and all settled down. I was released Sunday evening to go home on bedrest.

Sunday night things started up again and got progressively painful and regular on Monday so I called in to see if it was normal (wishful thinking). They told me to head back in to labor and delivery. Last night I got a painkiller in the bum, a shot to relax my muscles in the arm, and some serious loopy juice in my IV. Things have settled down again. I am still contracting, but it is less regular and less painful.

The general plan is that we will try to keep the babies in as long as possible. Everyone here says that I am farther along for twins than a lot of people make it, which is reassuring b/c I for one was not ready this early! Also, they said they are a good size, with strong heartbeats, and they are active. All great things, but may be also contributing to the contractions. The little ones are 35 weeks next Wednesday (according to my docs). If we can make it that far, they won't have to go to NICU if they are healthy enough - or if they do go, they might be able to come home with us when we go home - again, if they are healthy enough.

My doc said her gut feel is that I will deliver sometime this week, although we will wait and see how long we can push it. Pretty much it will come down to the narcotics being able to hold back the contraction pains enough for me to keep taking it (fun prospect!). I will say, though, that things have majorly quieted down in here this a.m., so I'm envisioning a scenario in which I live in the hospital for the next three weeks. Yikes!! Bottom line is, the longer we can cook the babies, the better. I just also feel for my little lady at home who worried this morning that "Mommy might never come home." :-(

So, for sanity's sake, I might be posting on here, or I might be MIA. When the babies do come, we'll let everyone know. We are so thankful for all of our friends and family around here that are keeping us company, packing my bag, taking Ana to and from school, and just making this time less stressful/scary and more bearable.

You Know You're Pregnant With Twins If...

1. You have to cut the bands of your maternity underwear so that you can still put them on.

2. People have been saying things like, "I predict that this will be the meal that'll do it," and, "You are enormous!" for about a month now.

3. The only pajamas that fit you are your husband's t-shirts and boxers, and even that's pushing it.

4. You wake yourself up snoring at least 3 times a night.

5. Your daughter tells you that you have no lap left, yet that doesn't stop her from trying to sit on the tiny real estate that is your knees or from falling off.

6. Your latest hot look is the compression stocking with flip-flops. It goes well with the new minivan.

Dinnertime

Dinnertime has turned into a battle at our house. It is no fun for anyone these days. Banana and I sat down to have a little chat about it to figure out how we could make things go a little more smoothly. I don't think I will be using her suggestions.

Ana, it seems like you are having a hard time at dinner lately.

Yeah.

Let's think of some things we can do together to help it not be a hard time for you. It's not fun for you, me, or Daddy.

Yeah.

I think you could help me put the napkins on the table, so then you can see that soon we will be eating.

Silence.

Maybe you could even help me with cooking a little bit. I would like your company and then you will not be surprised by the food.

Silence.

Do you have any ideas?

Yes.

Okay, let's hear them.

I think we could just eat candy.

Happy Birthday To Me?

Yesterday was Ana's 5th birthday, so Scott and I took her out to dinner to celebrate. Apparently she was inspired by the "Happy Birthday" song that came with her ice cream because she decided to craft her own version for me:

Happy Birthday to Old Mom (and yes, she meant old as in age)
Happy Birthday to Old Mom
Happy Birthday to Old-Mom
Happy Birthday, you're stinky

That kid. If I didn't love her so much, I just might sit on her.

Due Date

I have to remember that little kids can be so literal and that they can stew on something for weeks before bringing it up.

To give Ana a frame of reference for when the babies would come I had told her, First you will turn five and then the babies will come.

My lady was opening presents on Saturday and paused to ask the following:

So, first I open these presents and then the babies will come out?

Lord, I hope I am that relaxed right before delivery! She was more than a tad bit disappointed when I told her we had to go into October before they would come. One of these days I'm going to figure this parenting thing out. Probably the day before she heads off to college...

Ana's Going Into Business

Ana has been playing with a birthday gift - a little pretend beauty set - that includes a straightener, blow dryer, curling iron, lipstick, perfume, and a brush. Miraculously enough, the curling iron converts to a nail polish bottle at the salon operator's press of a button, allowing the fun to go on for even longer. We have all been subjected to new hairdos, lipstick and black or pink nail polish. Even Cooper the dog has not been exempt.

Ana, what's the name of your salon?

Hmmm.... My salon is called Beauty Doesn't Exist.

I asked her why we should even bother coming if that was the name, but she didn't have much of an answer for that. I believe her actual answer was No, you didn't rub your lips together right. Your lipstick is not on all the way. Rub! Rub!

I'm Seeing 20/20 - ish

Ana is definitely the girl you want to bring along with you when you go to the optometrist. I hate squinting at the little letters, guessing, A C, no maybe an O, or maybe a D. I'm always blinking frantically and rubbing at my eyes as if that is a good way to improve my vision. It works somewhat, but how useful is that? Is that a red light up ahead or a green? (blink, blink, blink, rub, rub). Oops, yes, it was definitely red. Oh well, better luck next time. I'll blink and rub harder. Maybe even start the rubbing sooner.

At any rate, I was blinking and rubbing away when my girl walked up to the screen and pointed at the offending letter - Hey! There's an N! That's in my name!

Thanks, Chickie :-)

Ana Is Not Bilingual

I have been relying a little too heavily on Dora these past days leading up to the start of preschool. The freakishly large headed cartoon girl teaches planning, friendship, and map skills. At least that's how I justify using Dora to take a nap.

As a result of our Dora dates, Ana has become very interested in Spanish. She loves to ask about words and try them out herself. Great when I am involved in the translation process, less so when I have no clue what is going on.

Ana, what shirt do you want to wear?

Kaleekeekana.

What?

Kaleekeekana.

What is that?

I'm telling you in Spanish what shirt I want to wear. Kaleekeekana.

Can we try English?

No. That means no in Spanish.

Apparently Ana Needs To Shave

Hey Mom, can I use your deodorant and not my pretend deodorant? (Yes, she has pretend deodorant)

I don't think you need it, Baby.

Yes I do. I have some fur under my arms too.

I hope she was referring to Scott's underarms and not mine...

Uh... Thanks for the Lesson?

Ana played with her sitter yesterday afternoon while I ran an errand. When I came home she was in a really good mood and I could tell she had a great time.

I sat down with my lady while she ate a snack. Ana handed a cracker to me and I thanked her for sharing.

Sharing is caring!

That's right, Ana! I like that. Where did you hear that?

Ms. Andrea said that when her husband farts, he says, 'Andrea, sharing is caring!'

Uh... thanks Ms. Andrea?

You Know You Are Out Of Shape When...

You hold the TV remote out as you scroll through the 1500s and 1600s and your shoulder starts aching before you even reach the end of the 1500s.

You try to wheel yourself to the bathroom at Babies r Us while your friend, who was originally pushing you in the wheelchair, loads your stuff up in the car, and you think that you aren't going to make it because your arms are about to fall off of your body.

You sit down by reaching an optimal hover point and then you just freefall onto whatever seat you were going for - couch, edge of bed, toilet even.


Do they make a P90X for pregnant people? Make that a P3X. That's about all I could get through methinks.

Moo...

Well, we did it. We crossed over to the other side. We are now the owners of a minivan. Said we'd never do it - no offense to lovers of all things minivan - just never thought we'd get to that point that says - You are definitely not young anymore. Although maybe that is what the gray in the front of my hair has been saying for a long time, now that I think about it.

Ana was also less than thrilled with the change when we first brought the gray beast home.

Ana, how do you like your new car?

Not good.

We need to give it a name. What do you think we should call it?

Cow.


I am happy to report that I have been inhaling the new car smell like there is no tomorrow and have apparently gotten sufficiently high enough that I no longer mind that I could carry an entire little league soccer team in my vehicle. Ana has also come around and now kisses the van upon exiting. She has also changed the name from Cow to Rose, nickname Daisy.

Child Protective Services

Poor Papa Bear is out of the country and can't defend himself. Ana yesterday morning:

My tummy hurts!

Did you maybe eat too much breakfast?

No. When I was at Papa Bear's the last time, he gave me a beer.

Enough Already, Daddy!

If you hadn't gathered from earlier posts, Scott has a Chik-fil-A obsession. I truly he believe that he would name one of the babies Chik and the other Fil-A if it would guarantee him free spicy chicken sandwiches for life. He knows not to bother me anymore because I now flat out refuse to go with him if we already went once the week before. Looks like Ana is putting her foot down too.

Driving home the other night Scott made a pit stop at- where else?- Chick-fil-A to grab some dinner for him and Banana. Pulling up, a weary voice said from the backseat:

Oh boy... here we go again...

She got to go somewhere else :-)

Webster's Un-Dictionary

Ana has been reading Fancy Nancy books lately. Fancy Nancy likes to throw out a shi-shi word and then follow it up with "X is another word for... or X means ....". Apparently Ana likes her style. I have been treated to the following definitions over the last few days:

Mom. I was confused. Confused means you don't know and you don't know and you don't know, so you go sit under a tree.

Okay, Buddah.


Mom. Accessories is another word for things you need for a party. You must have accessories to be fancy. You can buy them at H-E-B and then you will look fab-uh-lous. You will be the prettiest in the land. You don't wear accessories. You need to get some.


Mom. Can I have some kukalah for dinner? Kukalah means not broccoli, not peas, not corn, not carrots, not anything. Only mac 'n cheese and dessert.

Dirty Shirts

Ana is breaking me in for the upcoming months/years of spit up, food covered shirts. She has really taken to her new sister and brother - at least in the non-crying, leaving her toys alone form that they are currently in. She talks to them in the morning and kisses them goodnight. All very sweet.

The one bit of attention that I could do without, though, is the feeding of the babies. She will hold a bit of her food up to my stomach and say, Here you go, babies. I will share my food with you! Apparently if you hold the food directly on the fabric of my shirts, it somehow gets through to the babies. They have had Chik-fil-A nuggets, a spoonful of cereal, a sip from a straw, sandwich, crackers, grapes, and my personal favorite - a bite of vanilla ice cream cone.

Thanks, Ana Banana.

PTSD

Apparently Scott was traumatized by our last newborn prep class - the one on breastfeeding twins. This morning we head off to our "Newborn Care" class and he had a few concerns to air:

This isn't going to be another one of those classes where women put baby dolls up to their boobs, is it? I don't think I can handle another one of those. That was just way too disturbing.

I don't mind learning about baby diapers and all of that stuff, but if I have to hear again about how some woman's breasts hang low and what should she do about it, I don't think I'm going to be able to keep a straight face.

The poor guy... wait until reality sets in at his own house. 30 weeks on Friday and everybody is growing like weeds, including me. Not much longer to go!

The World Is Ending

I have a very dramatic mood-swing-y child about one day out of every month. Luckily those days don't come around very often, but when they do, nothing is right and everything is "terrible". Yesterday was one of those days:

I can't sing good. I can never be in the opera. Listen to my voice. It is all scratched up when I sing soft. People will laugh. They will not buy a ticket to listen to me at the opera. I don't sing good. I sing like a clown.

I can't play soccer good. My hands are too little. It's not fair my hands are not big like Daddy's. This is terrible!

My hair is a mess. My hair is not good. I want short hair. My hair gets in my face. It won't stay in my hair thing. My hair is like a stinky toot.

We picked up a pretty white dress at a consignment shop just for fun. Ana was convinced it was meant for church only and let a tiny bit of excitement peek through before she remembered that it was drama day:

When is it church day? Is it this day, then the next day, then the next day, then church day? That is not far! That is soon! And then I can wear my white.... and then I can wear that ugly, scratchy dress. That is the most terrible dress in the whole world.

Whew! Thank goodness yesterday is over. I'm thinking of taking a trip ... solo.

Poetic License

See if you can guess who came up with this one:

Home again, home again
Jiggety-Jig
Daddy's a vampire
And Mommy's a pig

And Ana's a unicorn. With purple hair. And sparkly eyes.

Where Do Goldfish Come From?

Papa Bear gave Ana a big bag of goldfish to much on during our car ride home last night. Apparently the name of the snack got Ana thinking:

So, what they do is they catch the goldfish. Then they take out their eyes. Then they put them in the oven, really hot. Then they cook them up. Then they take them out and put them in a bag so kids can eat them.

What amazes me is that even though she thought her crackers once had eyes, she still never had a problem eating them.

Just Shoot Me

The ratio of morning people to non-morning people in our house used to be 2:1. The 2 being the ladies, the 1 being one very tolerant male. Scott was always a good sport - getting roused to go to an early breakfast, gamely putting on clothes to take a walk, even getting up to go run errands or go somewhere.

The ratio of morning people to non-morning people in our house is now 1:2. One being the almost 4 foot bundle of energy that wakes at the crack of dawn every morning, ready to dance, sing at the top of her lungs, eat immediately, go somewhere... The one convert to slugdom has been me - the large, unwieldy, sluggish, grower of two humans that always seems to be missing 4 hours of sleep somewhere. I now have a much greater appreciation for Scott's sacrifices.

This is what we were treated to the other morning:

Grown-ups wake up slow, but chril-dren wake up fast! Wake up! Wake up! Let's go to Rudy's and get breakfast tacos! Can you play with me?! Watch me dance! Wake up! Wake up! God made a nice day out there! It's time to see it!

If I ever turn back into that person, just shoot me...

Who Is This Kid?

I swear I do not teach Ana this stuff. She doesn't learn if from listening to me, either.

Driving home:

Me: When we get home I'm going to get on the computer and look for a birthday leotard for you. Do you want to help me look?

Ana: What? Are you kidding me, Lady???


The teenage years are going to be interesting...

You Could Have Heard A Cricket Chirp

Ana took a sibling class last Sunday at the hospital where I will deliver. While we waited for the teacher to begin the class, the kids looked at a poster of a crying baby boy, a sleeping baby girl, and an awake baby girl.

A little boy of about 3 wandered over to the poster with his dad. "Dad, what's that on his belly?"

The dad then launched into a way-too-technical-for-a-3-year-old description of umbilical cords. "Oh, and there's his ding-a-ling," the boy replied.

"Yep. That's his ding-a-ling," Dad responded. Then he made another rookie mistake. "And look at that baby. You're having a baby sister, so your baby won't have a ding-a-ling; she'll look like that."

Of course, the next question was, "And what's THAT called?"

You could have heard a cricket chirp...

At Least She's Honest...

Ana, bedtime!

Mom, can I have a drink of milk, and a drink of water, and a drink of orange juice?

You get your water, I'll get you juice. If you drink all of that, you can have milk.

But why do I want so many drinks?

I think it's either because you are really thirsty or because you're stalling.

It's because I'm stalling.

Well, at least you're honest, Kid.

Yeah.

The Hills Are Alive...

with the sound of... wardrobe changes?

I was beat yesterday afternoon, so Ana and I sat down to watch The Sound of Music together. A friend's children love the movie and Ana loves singing, so I figured it would be a hit with her.

I explained things in simple terms as the movie went along, including the part where the family flees from the "bad guys" until the war is over. Ana hummed, she danced, she ad libbed along - I could tell she was enjoying it. When the movie wrapped up, I asked her, So what did you think?

Well, when the kids and the Mommy and Daddy went away from their house, what happened to the dresses?

What do you mean?

You know, the dresses in their closets. What happened to the dresses?

Nothing. They just stayed in the closets until the kids got back.

The soldiers didn't wear them?

No, they wouldn't fit.

But, did they take them out of the closets and put their clothes in there?

No, I'm sure they left their clothes in their suitcases and didn't touch the closets.

Oh, that's okay then.

That was what worried my chick the most - not where did the family live while they were in exile? Not, what happened to the other people left in the town? Not, was everyone okay.? Nope. It was - what happened to the dresses? At least my girl is predictable... ;-)

Gee... Thanks...

I was leaning in the car window, looking at Ana in her carseat with a look of pure love on my face (or so I thought).

Mom. You look like a vampire.

Grumpy Ana

My mom took Ana, my sister, and I out to a resort for the night on Tuesday. Ana and I shared a bed and it was no picnic, let me tell you.

In the morning, Ana and I went to the little hotel playground to wait for my mom and sister to get ready. Nothing was to her liking.

Me: Ana, you sure are grumpy this morning!

Ana: Yeah.

Me: You must have gotten out on the wrong side of the bed. That happens. Everyone gets grumpy sometimes.

Ana: Well, you know, you should have slept on my side and I should have slept on your side.

Maybe she has something there...

Next Husband, Please

I am not the most mobile or energetic person these days, so I offered to play little plastic princess dolls with Ana on the couch. That is right up her alley, so she was content. I was a little disturbed, however, by the turn our play took.

To set the scene...

I was "Mommy Alison", "Daddy Scott", Cooper (our dog), and a bunny rabbit

Ana was herself as a little girl, herself as a "grown-up", two princes, an assortment of waitresses, and an Auntie that showed up at the end of the honeymoon

The play began with us as a family. Ana grew up and fell in love with a prince, after asking him if he was kind, smart, and funny, of course. She enacted a wedding and then invited Mommy Alison, Daddy Scott, Cooper, and the bunny to accompany her and her new husband on their honeymoon - to Disney World, surprise, surprise. Her husband was apparently very accommodating.

While there, after eating a good lunch of ham sandwiches with salsa on them and "lemalade" to drink, Ana decided that we should all go for a swim. Sadly her new husband did a fatal cannonball into the hotel pool and had to go to the on site hospital, where he took an even worse turn and died from his injuries and "being sick". At this point, Ana's Auntie entered the scene to cry over the body, at which time she quickly aged and became so old that she too died. Ana changed into a "fab-uh-lous gown" to mourn her family members.

We flew back to Austin later that day, with Ana bemoaning the fact that she would never marry again because she married the only kind prince in the whole world and she did not want to marry a mean man. Well, luck would have it that as soon as we landed and exited into the airport, she met another prince who happened to be "kind and smart and funny". They went on a date the very next night and over a dinner of "steak and french fries and white milk" they grilled each other in the following manner:

Ana: Do you like children? Are you kind to them?
Prince: Yes. Do you like children? Are you kind to them?
Ana: Yes. Do you like animals?
Prince: Yes. Do you like animals?
Ana: Yes. Are you smart and funny?
Prince: Yes. Are you smart and funny?
Ana: I am. I think I can marry you. You are a kind person.
Prince: Me too.

They then came home from their date and told Mommy Alison and Daddy Scott that they were getting married the very next day and would be honeymooning at... Disney World.

My daughter, the Black Widow. Nice.

Can I Get A Side of Drama With That, Please?

(tone of shock and betrayal tinged with whine) Mommy! You didn't give me a big hamburger like you and Daddy. You usually give me a big hamburger. Why didn't you? This is the worst hamburger in the whole town.

I know my cooking is not always up to par, but really? The worst hamburger in all of Austin? A new cooking low...

You Know It's Not Going To Be Good...

You know it's not going to be good when you open the front cover of your child's bedtime story and find an illustration of a bird, belly up, with Xs where its eyes should be.

You know it's not going to be good when the little boy in the story asks his Daddy why the bird died and the Daddy takes a big breath before saying that that's what happens when things get old.

You know it's not going to be good when you reflect back on the title - Caillou Learns About Getting Older - and then quickly flip through the book to see that Caillou asks various family members about getting older.

You know it's not going to be good after you catch a glimpse of Caillou crying about everyone getting older because he has put two and two together. Damn that Caillou!

You know it's not going to be good to read this to your child who was convinced your babies would be born blind after you read her a preschool version of Helen Keller.

So, you thank your lucky stars that you are a fast skimmer and a quick catcher-on-er, at least since the Great Helen Keller Debacle of 2011 and you drop that book like a hotcake.

Girlie Girl Through and Through

Mommy, what if I was locked up in a dungeon?

I would come and save you!

But what if the door was locked?

I would get a battering ram and come and knock the door down. I would keep trying until I saved you!

Because parents protect their children?

That's right!

But what if I was wearing a blue princess gown with long sleeves with pearls on the end and my hair was in a beautiful bun and I had blue shoes with heels to match my dress and I had a tiara that sparkled in my golden hair?

Uh... I guess I would save you anyway?

Puppy Love

Ana was playing chase with a little boy in her school gym last week. As she ran by me, she paused to tell me "I'm not going to say that I want to kiss him".

Apparently what she took from the You-don't-need-to-think-about-dating-or-marrying-until-you-are-much-much-older-lesson was that she just shouldn't say those things out loud. Luckily she has yet to filter herself where I'm concerned, so I still get a peek at that funny little mind.

Daddy, lock up your daughter!

Daddy & Daughter Date Night

I went out of town a couple of weekends ago so Daddy planned a special date night with Ana. She ADORES Cheesecake Factory because the one by us has a gold dome and "fancy" decorations, so that was where they planned to go. Daddy even promised to "dress up," which means wearing a tie. He didn't think to mention his shirt choice, so Ana was taken by surprise:

Whoa, Daddy! That's a really fancy long-shirt! Whoo-ee!

Just A Tip...

If you decide to extricate your underwear from a place that it shouldn't have gotten itself into, try to remember that the wall behind you at your daughter's swim class is actually made of glass, and that there are about 20 parents sitting there staring straight ahead at the pool.

Just a tip...

Best Thing Ever

Yesterday Ana said about the absolute best thing anyone has ever said to me:

Mommy? I just can't stop loving you so much.

And I didn't even have to pay her...

Ummm... Happy Birthday, Daddy?

Daddy got a unique birthday present this year. I asked Ana what she would like to give Daddy as her present to him and she had a very definite answer.

In hindsight, it might have been a good idea to take her to a store and present her with a couple of options of things that Daddy would have liked, but in the end, who can resist a present from their little girl, picked out entirely by her?

Oops!

Ana had a lot to say about an incident that happened at a birthday party on Monday. We were at an inflatable bouncy place and a little girl must have thrown her arms over her head on the way down a very fast slide. At least that is the explanation I can come up with for why she suddenly found herself shirtless.

We shouldn't show our privacies in public! What did the people think?

I don't know, Honey. What did you think?

Ooooooh, nakee!!!! Put your shirt back on, Girl!!!

I Miss You Too...

I went out of town for a girls' weekend this past weekend. The first night it was fun to call home and to hear Ana's little pumpkin voice over the phone.

Mommy, can I come with you sometime? It could be just us, the girls.

I called in the next day, looking forward to the same lovey conversation, only to get this:

Mom. Why do you keep calling me?

Point taken.

We're Moving

Ana, look at that house. It's a mansion.

Oh! It's like a castle. How much money did it cost? Like this much? (holding up both hands)

No... a lot more than that. Lots and lots. To live in a castle Daddy would have to work and work and never sleep and never come home. (plus we'd have to start playing the lottery)

That would be okay. I could just call him on the phone at work. I wouldn't mind.


Do you hear that, Daddy? We'll be calling you later to say goodnight; but don't you sleep...

Checkin' Out The Goods

Yesterday Ana went to a "Princess Event" with some of her little buddies. The girls were encouraged to dress up and at the event they made tiaras, heard a story, and ate little princess cupcakes and drank pink juice.

The star of the show was Rapunzel, a probably college-aged girl who was wearing a grown-up sized Rapunzel gown and a wig. My girl, ever the eye for details, had to check her out from head to toe.

Mom. I'm gonna go see what kind of shoes she has on under there.

Mom. She only has flip-flops. Why does she only have flip-flops? Those are not fancy!

Rapunzel, why do you only wear flip-flops?

Rapunzel: Lifting her dress... See, they have sparklies on them. I wear these in the summertime because it's so hot.

Oh. Okay. So, your hair. Is that a wig or what?

Can I Take That Back?

Another to file in the Don't Say to a Pregnant Lady category:

Scott: Does anybody still tell you that you look small for twins?

Alison: Someone said that again last Friday.

Scott: I really think it's because you hide it well in your shirts. It must be how you're carrying because I saw you in the shower last night and I was like (insert graphic of Scott with his mouth wide open).

Thanks. Thanks a lot.

Parking Problems

Me: Ugh. That lady just took the parking spot I was waiting for. Rude!

Ana: Mo-om, you can be flexible. Just look for another place.

Me: Thanks, Ana. I forgot to be 34.

Ana: That's okay. I did it for you.

Things Are Heating Up

You know it's time to move to a different spot in the pool when you overhear the following conversation:

Sister to brother: It's cold!

Brother: Yeah, the water is cold, but if you tee-tee then it gets warm.

Whoa Baby!

Last night was an experience and a half! Scott and I went to a breastfeeding class for future parents of twins. We had been assured that almost everyone would bring her spouse or at least a support person, but it turned out that Scott was the only guy in the room. This is a problem for a guy that can't hide what he's thinking - that can't laugh on the inside without turning beet red and snorting on the outside. And there were lots of reasons to snort and turn beet red...

Scott's put together exterior first started to crack when the instructor whipped two baby dolls up to her chest to demonstrate some of the positions that could be used with twins, complete with baby suckling noises. His resolve took a further nose dive when one classmate discussed how her breasts hang very low when her milk comes in. And he actually had to turn away when each of us was handed our own two dolls so there were 5 women at the same time with creepy looking dolls stuck to their chests.

God love him for making it through the whole thing while sitting next to one very freaked out wife... who had to put her swollen ankles up on his lap, naturally.

The Best Playdate Ev-er...

My Lady is petrified of sharing her things. We have progressed past her belief that if she shares something, one of her friends will permanently claim it and take it home to I just don't like that yucky feeling that comes with sharing. She has absolutely no problem going to someone else's house, though, and sharing all of their toys, snacks, dress up, etc.


We've been talking a lot about inviting people to our house so that her friends can play here too and she finally is buying in to the reasons behind it, getting excited even. Not sure anyone will want to come over, though:


It will be fun! All of my friends can come! Before they come we can tie a string around my closet so they can't go in and play with my dress-up. We can lock my door and put a sign on it that says No Going In! We can put the special snacks in the drawer and lock it up. They will have fun!


Maybe I'm missing something, but I can't quite figure out how.

I Can't Believe I Ate The Whole Thing

Another for the list of pregnant person identifiers...

You might be pregnant if you find yourself a part of the following conversation:

Scott: What's that bag of food next to you?

Me: Corn.

Scott: What are you doing with it?

Me: I ate it.

Scott: You ate it? As in ate the whole thing?

Me: (wailing tone of voice) I ate the whole thi-ng! I can't believe I ate the whole thi-ng!

Scott: What was in there?

Me: 8 halves of foil wrapped corn.

Scott: Holy crap. I'm getting the camera.

Sweet Tooth

Fourth of July is a great day for anyone like Ana, whose every other tooth is a sweet tooth. We went to a get together at Nana and Papa Bear's, otherwise known as the house of the never ending ice cream sandwiches. Ana got a mini sandwich because up until then she had had 3 pieces of candy, a cookie, and a Jim-Jims water ice. Never enough for our sugar baby, she tried to work another one out of me:

Mom, can you come sit with me on the stairs and have a little talk?

Um... yes....

Mom, sometimes Papa Bear gives me two ice cream sandwiches and not just one.

Well, one is enough for you today. You've already had a lot of desserts to eat.

Oh. Okay.

She sidled up next to me, rested her head on my shoulder, and I could not believe my good fortune, that that was the end of it. Until....

Mom, do you smell my toot?

Colonel Sanders

Last night we picked up a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store for dinner. Here was the highly appetizing conversation we had while we ate:

Mom, is this dead chicken or what?

Yes, it is for us to eat from the store.

Yes, but is it dead?

I certainly hope so.

But how did it get dead? Did they put it in a pot and take out its feathers?

No. To be honest I'm not sure how it became dead. I know that on a small farm they chop the chicken's head off in one cut so that the chicken is dead right away.

Oh. Did they cut this chicken's head off?

I don't know, Baby.

But how did he get to where they deaded him?

Well, he was born from an egg, then they fed him until he was bigger, and then they killed him so that people could eat him.

Oh.

By this point I was no longer touching my food and felt like busting out my checkbook in support of some chicken's rights group. I had the irrational thought that I should close the blinds so that no one could see my murderous meal.

Ana, surprisingly, was undeterred. She ate every last bite.

When Poop Happens

Yesterday was not a good day in our house for anyone that wanted to avoid anything poopy. Sometimes the shit just runs downhill and, lucky me, I am often the hill.

We started off with a pool playdate. I knew we were in trouble when Ana popped out of the pool, holding her rear, and speaking with a desperate tone of voice - Mommy! I need to go, NOW!

We abandoned one of the flip-flops and made it in time. Or so I thought. I was allowed a few moments of mistaken bliss because Ana likes to use her own stall now.

I'm done! The poop wanted to get on my bathing suit a little bit, but that's okay.

No. No, that's really not okay. You're not in trouble, but let me in so I can help you out.

Poop suit. Poop shoe. Smooshed poop pile on the floor. Got the poop off the floor. Cleaned the shoe and bathing suit off with lots of soap and water.

It was while I was cleaning the suit and shoe that I noticed the smell was not getting better. That's because somehow I had gotten a glob of poop on my shoe and on my foot. Sigh.

Cleaned up my shoe. Cleaned up my foot. Rest of the afternoon went on without incident.

Fast forward to post-dinner/pre-bedtime. We hear a little voice from the bathroom:

That's okay. Sometimes that happens to kids. Sometimes kids poop in their panties without meaning it.

Apparently my Lovely was having a day of intestinal distress. Because Daddy made a dinner of tortillas and refried beans, I was the hill that this particular poop landed at the bottom of. Poop clean up, take 2.

To add to my list of things I never thought I would say:

Ana. Clasp your hands together and leave them like that. I'm serious. I'M SERIOUS. Now you just got poop cheeks. Great! Now we have a poop wall! KEEP YOUR HANDS TOGETHER.

The little poopster is now safely and cleanly tucked in bed. Let's hope this was a one-day kind of deal. I'm not sure I want to sign up for this one again!

Drama Queen

I did not teach her this. I swear I did not.

Ana has taken to fainting to make her point about things. For example...

Last night she walked over to my feet, sniffed them, and proceeded to keel over.

Nice.

My Memory Is Going...

Here is how I attempted to write this morning's post:

Ana, what's something funny you said lately? I can't remember. My brain is fuzzy these days.

That's never a set-up for getting something actually usable. Instead I got unsolicited advice:

Well, maybe you could just think about it. Think - What's something funny that Ana said?

Yes, Honey, that's what I'm doing and it's not working. Can YOU remember anything?

I remember that time I made the potty really stinky. Do you remember that?

So there you have it.

Technology Isn't My Friend

In the past I have been known to have various technological issues. On the plus side, these issues helped me to learn some basic rules about technology, however, such as:

1. If you want to use your cell phone, don't let it drop into a glass of wine.

2. If you want to use your cell phone, don't put it in the same bag as a sippy cup.

3. If you want to get somewhere, don't hand me your iPhone and tell me to look up the map.

and now...

4. If you want to use your computer, don't break off the charger while it is plugged in.

Seemingly basic all, but I am apparently not a basic girl. Why don't they tell you these things??? At any rate, We'-re b-a-a-ck...

Ana to My Belly

Whoa, Babies! You're building a really big house in there!!

Dessert Please?

We try to limit Ana to no more than one dessert a day, ideally not everyday, and only after eating a good lunch or dinner. We try.

She tries to get around that as best as she can. When she's at Nana and Papa Bear's, they have a stash of ice cream sandwiches that they keep for her and she looks forward to them every time.

Ana to Nana at 9 a.m.:

Nana? Does a person like you ever let a kid like me eat an ice cream sandwich after breakfast if I ate a good breakfast?

Of course she got her ice cream sandwich :-)