Blue Valentine

Last Valentine's Day when we went to pick up Molly and Jack from daycare we discovered that their cubbies were not only filled with the outfits that Jack had painstakingly destroyed that day, but also with paper Valentines from other kids in their class.  As I collected the little notes and stuffed them into my purse I was thankful that Molly and Jack were just a year and a half old and blissfully unaware how their parents had failed at Valentines.  I am almost certain that every other child had participated in a card exchange while we did not.

I vowed to myself that this year would be different, that I couldn't rely on the assumption that they wouldn't understand, that they were the only children not participating in the exchange of pink and red stationary.  In late January I started creeping projects on Pinterest, I had grandiose ideas of toddler friendly hand made cards that they could work on for their classmates, cousins and grandparents.  I even made a shopping list for the Dollar Store complete with glitter, construction paper and enough sparkle heart stickers to make the minions the envy of unicorns everywhere.

Here's the thing...I never made it to the dollar store.  It was cold outside, the kids got sick twice: each, I got sick and then there was the Molly pneumonia scare.   It snowed a bunch and then time passed by.  I should have known better, evenings and weekends filled up with laundry and naps for everyone, not time for craft corner.  I am incapable of mailing a letter most days.

So today, the day before Valentines, I am going to go to a drug store and buy whatever Valentine cards are on sale, then at daycare pick up I am going to write down the names of all of the children in Molly and Jack's class to avoid me just randomly penning "fellow classmate" on every person's card.*  Tonight I will let my children scribble all over them at my parent's house and do everything in my power to ensure that these cards physically make it into daycare tomorrow.  Maybe next year will be different, but probably not.


*There are only eight other children in their class and they talk about four of them all the time, you think I'd have a better grip on names.

My Name is Zoom - Birthday Song

When I look at the calendar, the photo albums and the two toddlers in front of me, it is painfully clear that we don't have babies any more, we have full blown children on our hands.  On Saturday (tomorrow) Molly and Jack turn two years old.

Am I nostalgic and wistful for the early days of babyhood?  Sometimes, but rarely.  There's nothing like seeing a tired parent walking a colicky newborn to clear my uterus of baby fever.  We love that each and every day Molly and Jack have new skills, words and games.  This has been the craziest two years of my life*.

I am so proud of both of the minions and the family that we are.

The minions on the eve of their first birthdays

A little bit about Miss Molly at age 2:

• Your favourite book is Five Little Monkeys...mainly because you like to point aggressively and wag your finger disapprovingly
• Your favourite toy is your baby dolly who you couldn't stand when Nana and Grampa gave her to you at Christmas, but now you'll rarely go to bed without "Baby" or "Mean Baby"**
• You are attached to flannel blankets and love to carry them with you wherever you go, or drape them around your neck like a pimp scarf
• Shoes are your other key accessory and when guests come over you'll try on their shoes, if we're home alone you're content to wear mommy or daddy's shoes, at daycare you'll take off other children's shoes for them and when we ask you about it you'll explain, "they're babies" as the reason why you've stolen their shoes
• You are a born leader, most of your sentences are commands: "Get out" (when Jack is in Mom's Lap) or "All done Jack" (when you've determined that Jack's turn is over and you're tired of sharing)

A little bit about Master Jack at age 2:

• You like to carry around your dad's contact lense case wherever you go
• You are obsessed with sharing and insistent that everyone in the house shares thing whether it be milk, cookies or toys...You'll say "Share" in a way that sounds like you're the leader of a toddler cult and will cry if others won't indulge your need to "shaaare"
• Your laugh is contagious and you tease your sister endlessly
• You don't speak English, you speak Foodlish or Delish since most of your words relate to food
• Parkour may be in your future as you love to climb everything with the tenacity of a mountain goat revved up on sugar
• Curiosity for how things work drives you, You love to explore door knobs, light switches, locks and anything with buttons
• You've mastered the art of bartering and when your sister has something you want to play with you'll present her with one of her "go to" toys as an acceptable trade

Happy Birthday Molly and Jack!


And for you 1980's babies, do you remember that weird birthday theme song that was "in style" on your birthdays?  Here's a version for Molly and for Jack, just be thankful that I couldn't find one online for you.


To read my entry for Molly & Jack's first birthday click here

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*Two years and nine months if you count the complete circus that was twin pregnancy.
**I don't know what makes baby mean, but it might explain why you throw her down on the floor in a body slam several times a day.

Hello?

Whenever I refer to my children as my minions it's because I was secretly hoping that they'd be a lot more helpful than they actually are by now.  Like any super villain I am unsatisfied with the slave labour they provide.  Let's face it Skelator was never satisfied with Beast Man's job performance, and all I wanted was for them to fetch me things: bring me slippers, wine, do my bidding..usual super villain progeny stuff and they've failed miserably.  The most we've managed is that Molly will fetch her own shoes so you can put them on her or, but she's generally retrieving them after she hurled them across the room and yelled, "Uh-Oh." as if it was some sort of accident.  Sometimes, if they are feeling generous they'll hand their sibling some milk or raisins, but that's been the upper limit...until now.

First off, this no call list thing is garbage.  I still get so many telemarketing calls and most calls come in half way through nap time or about 30 minutes after we've gotten Molly and Jack to sleep for the night, serving no purpose but to annoy us and provide us with angry screaming babies.  When I was a kid a friend of my mother's boasted about how she used to keep a whistle by the phone to blow into the ears of the telemarketer.*

Jack and his Thomas the Train cell phone....that is constantly stuck on number 8

When I was a teenager, a friend of mine secured a job as a telemarketer for a local dance studio.  She was offering one free dance lesson and I guess after they got them in for their lesson it would be up to the instructors to provide the hard sell, time-share worthy sales pitch.  It was a terrible job and the people she called were ruthless, however one strange trend showed up each and every night she worked: the number of people who would tell her that they had no legs and hang up the phone.  Apparently in the 1990's over 2% of the population called had no legs.**

This week Jack has been promoted to first assistant for his new services as minion.  I have to say that I'm a little disappointed in Miss Molly, I was always convinced that the force was strong with this one, and that we could rule the dark side together, maybe next month.

The boy is obsessed with remote controls, phones, baby monitors or anything with buttons that makes noise, so with call display as our friend, Chris started to hand him the phone whenever a telemarketer call comes in.   The result?  He giggles a lot in his low throaty Beavis type way and then presses a series of buttons in the telemarketers ear.***  It's not quite a whistle, but he's finally starting to earn his keep.




*I know that the job of a telemarketer sucks, especially when some angry mom is blowing a whistle in your ears, that no one wants to talk to you and no one aspires to be a telemarketer when they grow-up.  That being said I still don't want you to call me.
**I will not be held responsible if this statistic is not accurate.
***I recognize that this probably says something profound about Chris and my maturity level.

Product Recall

I have one question for the designers who think it's a good idea to offer clothes for children who crawl in white or muted pastel colours: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?  Do you have a contract with a laundry detergent, floor cleaner, duster, vacuum or specialty mop company that no one outside of the industry knows about?  Every morning when I set the minions down on the floor to play it's like some sort of CSI test as to how dirty my floor is.  I have never spent so much time sweeping, Swiffering, vacuuming or mopping my floors yet have never been so very painfully aware exactly how disgusting they are.

It's like when you were a kid (in the 1980's) and an expert on dentistry came in to teach the benefits of brushing your teeth properly.  They took two volunteers and got one of them to half ass brush their teeth and the other one to do a really good job.  They then gave each kid this weird red tablet* that turns red where ever the kid missed and did a crummy job brushing their teeth.  My floors are like that poor kid who's stuck with red teeth all afternoon, only topped with the shame of an adult who must clean the disgusting off of their kids clothes at the end of the day.

This in combination with the fact that both babies treat the small plates where we put the cat's wet food down on the floor like props at a Greek wedding** and that my disgusting floor doubles as the cheapest and most dangerous all you can eat buffet in town is driving me insane.

However, I have developed two solutions for both of my problems.  Unfortunately Chris says that both of my solutions border on child abuse.***

Solution 1 - Baby Swiffer Suit- No patent pending
Sadly I wasn't the first one with this idea - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vi69IShhMUc  However, I really think it's time that the minions stopped slacking and started contributing to our household with chores.  The Swiffer Suit would be especially helpful for Jack who drags his entire body along the floor like he's been injured by a grenade in a bad war movie.

Solution 2 - The Cone of Shame - patent pending...
We purchased "The Cone of Shame" (as named by the clerk at the pet store) after our cat had a nervous breakdown because I was pregnant.  Essentially it freaked him out and he started obsessively licking and tearing off his hair to the point of needing antibiotics and earned himself the nickname Rogaine.****  Thankfully the instant the minions arrived Pan went back to his normal self and has been fantastic with the kids, even though they try to rip off his tail daily.  Why let that cone go to waste when it can prevent my children from eating disgusting things on the floor?  I thought it was a good idea, although it probably is child abuse, probably....but it might save a life some day...I'm just saying.

 Mad Monkey, you wouldn't be in the cone of shame if you hadn't of pulled magnets off the fridge and tried to swallow them whole.

Valentine Bear, you unplugged the floor lamp and then tried to lick and bite the prongs on the plug...Cone of Shamed!

No children were harmed in the production of this blog entry.

*Like in The Matrix.
**OPA!  Seriously dude I have 4 side plates left and they never break the dollar store ones.  And my old cat refuses to jump up onto tables and counters to eat, unless it's your food, not his.
***He has also insisted that if I have to call him or any of our friends to ask if something is child abuse than it probably is and I should stop immediately, no matter how funny I think it is.  Almost 9 years and I still don't think he quite knows whether or not I'm joking about some of my diabolical plans.
****I wish I was joking about this, but sadly I am not.  We spent nearly $400 on medication for issues that had to do with high intelligence and low self esteem in a cat who kept on peeing on me in bed because he was so angry at me for being pregnant.  Cat urine is terrible for pregnant women, so we had to further isolate a cat who was already quite depressed.

I Love Myself Today

Yesterday we took our car in for service and we are happy to report that the 2001 Sunfire (AKA Sexfire) is still hanging in complete with the fancy new feature of a rear right hand turn signal.  We are no longer faced with sticking our arms out the window to let other drivers know that we want to turn right or forcing our passengers to act as ground traffic controllers.*

It's actually been a week of maintenance, with Friday being the minions 9 month check up, only a month and a half late.  The 45 day delay has me feeling a little bit better about both babies being over the 95th percentile in head circumference. It doesn't change the answer to Chris and I's question about why Molly is such a better eater of solid food than her brother.  I imagine very few father's dream of hearing, "It's because she has an oral fixation" about their little girls.

We've also found a new way to entertain the children, mirrors.  I'd long forgotten how awe inspiring mirrors can be to babies and children.  Like the work required on the Sexfire, I use mirrors exclusively for self-maintenance and repairs** and not self-admiration.  I don't know if Molly and Jack realize that they are staring at themselves in the mirror or other reflective surfaces or if they think that it's just another friendly baby in the room, but they are both very smitten.

Jack will smile and then try to wrestle with and crawl all over the baby he sees in the mirror.  Molly loves any reflective surface, will smile at it, flirt with it and then try to make-out with it.***  To date she has made out with: both bedroom mirrors, the bathroom mirror, the dishwasher, the oven (to the point where I've had to keep her out of the kitchen when I'm using the stove) and finally any wall if she can see her shadow.****

This is a picture of a horse making out with our car, and why it's aptly named - The Sexfire  

Maybe this self love and self esteem has to do with Chris and I constantly greeting Molly with "Hello Gorgeous", or constantly telling both babies how wonderful they are.  It's sort of a reminder that as adults we should be a little kinder to ourselves, and our mom bodies. It's time for a little more, "Hey Mama wanna wrestle/Let's make-out" and a little less, "Oh God the horror".   

*I don't believe that anyone actually knows what the manual signals for cars mean any more.  Who needs a baby on board sign when everyone thinks that you're flipping them off each and every time you want to change lanes or turn right anyway, right?

**Stray eye-brow plucking, removal of seeds and food lodged in teeth, pore inspection, under the eye ring inspection and make-up application.   

***Oral fixation.  Shudder.  Grown up Molly, in advance, I am SO sorry if you're reading this now - Mommy jests because she loves.
****Most narcissistic Ground Hog Day ever?

Paperback Writer

About nine years ago Chris moved into my 490 square foot downtown apartment.  There was very little space and we were really crammed for two reasons 1) I refused to purge my old stuff to make room for his things* and 2) it was 490 square feet.  As a result we lived, like sardines with piles of stuff everywhere until only three months later, when we couldn't take it any more we moved to a 1100 square foot apartment in Bloor West Village.

As two avid readers, we have a crap load of books.  One of the first orders of business at the new place was to buy some book shelves to merge our collections.  This was a huge deal (as was the merging of the CDs).  We worked to make room for everyone's books, including a bit of space for new purchases and  tried to negotiate books to get rid of.  He was insistent on keeping his Anne Rice collection** and I was oddly stubborn on keeping my feminist/popping culture collection of Naomi Wolf and  Naomi Klein books as well as some random Jim Morrison poetry books that I purchased when I was 15 and in my own personal musical renaissance.

Just before the babies were born we negotiated another cull of the book shelves and I acquired a book shelf upstairs in my office to keep sticky fingers off my collection of unusual children's literature. I may share these books with the minions when their primary use for a book isn't as a soother or a weapon.  We also got rid of any books that we knew we'd never read again, that being said Anne Rice, the Naomi Collection and Jim remained on our book shelves once again.

Would you want to share this amazing pop-up Alice in Wonderland book with someone who hadn't mastered "gentle" yet? I didn't think so.

Nearly 10 months later, the babies are everywhere, crawling, pulling themselves up onto tables and into book shelves leaving heaps of destruction at every corner.  I spend a lot of time trouble shooting and baby-proofing.  Last week I went back to the book shelves to get rid of and move around about 1/6th  of our collection to leave the bottom shelf empty and available for baby toy storage, since nothing remains on those shelves any more any way.

I never thought I'd be the type of adult who would clear shelves out of her living room book case to make room for stuffed bears, but here we are.  If anyone has suggestions for semi-stylish baby friendly storage containers to put toys on said shelves in, I'd love your input.

Any suggestions on how to protect the minions from floor lamp cords or floor lamps themselves would also be appreciated, they are currently obsessed with them.

When I called Chris to tell him about the new version of the book shelves he asked about his Stephen Kings and Vampire Lestat*** series and I was able to tell him that Steve and Anne still have homes on our shelves.  The Naomi's also remain, in case Molly ever needs to read empowering books to help her with adolescent self esteem and womanhood.  Others weren't so lucky.

Last week, after 19 years, I finally asked Jim Morrison to move out of our book shelf and into our garage in a box marked for Good Will.  He didn't complain because he knows that this relationship that I have with Molly and Jack, it must be serious and high school love, while intense is often fleeting.****

*I had gotten rid of a lot of stuff when an ex moved in two years earlier and the relationship only lasted 1 month post-move in.  I wasn't getting rid of stuff for any one and who did this new guy think he was anyway?  Future husband and father of my children, yeah right.
**Which we all know he will never read again.
***Apparently Chris isn't Team Edward, he's Team Lestat kicking it old school.  I also question the motives of him purchasing me a Kindle to celebrate the birth of Molly & Jack, an e-book will never take Anne's spot on the book shelf, sneaky move Chris.
****Upon reading this blog entry Chris felt that Jim should make his way back into our house so the minions can read up on him in their musical renaissance, I'm not so sure - I thought I needed a clean break.

Livin' on the Edge

This weekend we went for a walk in James Gardens with my brother-in-law, sister-in-law, niece and nephew.  For a good portion of the walk my 3 year old niece insisted on walking beside/in front of our double stroller so she could hold onto Molly and Jack's hands while we walked.  A very sweet gesture, albeit highly dangerous as she kept on positioning herself in front of the wheels of the stroller, stopping suddenly and absently cutting off the stroller in pursuit of various distractions around the park.  It didn't matter how many times she was warned by me, her parents, how often it was suggested that she play ahead with her brother, or hold someone else's hand, she was determined to be close to her cousins.

Later that afternoon, mere hours following a conversation about how children are in constant pursuit of death, Molly decided it was a good idea to climb into the base of the Exersaucer (AKA The Console of Doom or COD) while her brother towered above her inside the COD in the middle of an uncontrollable jumping frenzy.  We pulled her out immediately shuddering at the thought of baby trampling and realized that the minions are at the age where they are completely dangerous to themselves and each other.  I finally understand when a friend of Chris's, and father of three, announced that children are like monkeys on acid.  I am aware that pre-parent me complained about rubber floored playgrounds and Darwinism, but the minions are now capable of turning pens into shivs and they head butt each other constantly, it's like prison here.

That being said, I decided to dedicate this week to baby-proofing the house.

Somewhat proud to say that this was not our handy-work!

Source: flickr.com via: storyvillegirl  on creativecommons.org

Baby-Proofing Completed

• Baby Gates Up - Special thanks to my father for taking painstaking efforts and 3 trips to our house, and the hardware store ensuring that the gates didn't damage our banisters and fit easily against the walls when the minions are asleep so we can run loads of laundry without killing ourselves.*
• Book Shelves Secured to the Wall**
• All medicines and highly toxic products moved to high shelves in washroom.***
• Inserted 13 plastic safety plugs in various outlets around the house, including one on the top of the electric stove, even though I know that if Molly or Jack manage to climb onto the stove unsupervised to electrocute themselves in the outlet that I've already failed about 5 times as a parent.
• Installed Safety Swivel Outlet covers for all outlets in the nursery.
• Installed regular outlet covers for all outlets in the house that didn't have covers.****
• Moved all super breakable stuff or things that we really like off of the bottom 2 shelves in the living room or over to my parent's house for a few years.
• Temperature on hot water turned down to 49 degrees C or 120 degrees F.

Baby-Proofing to Complete

• Eye hook on door to music room to protect Chris's records, musical instruments and prevent possible death by giant amplifier.
• Cabinet & Drawer latches in bathrooms and kitchen.
• Poison control on programmed onto speed dial, cell and house phone.
• Put special squeeze door handles on bathroom doors and office door.
• Figure out how to hide electric cords for floor lamps.

Questions I Have About Baby-proofing

• Are toilet locks really necessary?*****
• Are faucet protectors worth the cost/ necessary?  Should we get one for the bath that they'll never use?
• I read something about keeping one kitchen cupboard unlocked that contained things like plastic containers and bowls to allow the kids to explore, is it worth it to avoid total household lock-down?
• How do I teach the minions to be nice to my 14 year old cat, and that he has claws...so far he just moans in displeasure when they try to pet him (AKA pull his tail, ears, poke him in the eyes and squeeze his cat belly as hard as they can)?  Or is this a lesson that he'll teach them himself, much to our horror?
• What am I missing?
• They're totally going to still hurt themselves on something we haven't thought of, aren't they?

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*We're taking bets on the first adult to fall down the stairs over the baby gates if anyone is interested.
**I'm not sure if I am going to be thanking my father, who also secured the book shelves, based on his comments about how he hopes that I'm happy about book shelf location and how I may have to just "paint around them" or leave them be should we ever move.
***Thank you to our friend, PMM, for telling me the horrifying story about how although his mother hid, locked and stacked fermentation tablets in the highest possible cabinet of the kitchen that he still managed to get them and ingest them while she was in the washroom because he thought they were scotch mints.
****Yes, we've been in the house for over 3 years now and this was still outstanding until today. Does it make it any less savage that most of these plug outlets are partially covered by furniture or that I had purchased the plug plate covers in August while I was still pregnant and that they've sat in a plastic bag on our back porch ever since waiting to be installed?
 *****Says the woman who grew up in the house with plumbing emergencies from my brother flushing a novelty over-sized Toucan Soap down the toilet and a dog who dumped his Kong chew toy down the toilet.

All the Single Ladies

Chris went to Burnaby, BC for a business trip this week leaving me to fly solo for 63 hours. It was a little weird being alone with the minions for such a long stretch without Chris for backup.  Below is the captain's log of my unsupervised parenting marathon.
Hour 2
While carrying both minions upstairs to the nursery to change their diapers I misjudged my space when entering the nursery and smacked Jack's head into the door.  He started to cry* so, I set Molly down on the play mat so I could comfort Jack.  Instantly they switched temperaments - Jack started giggling and Molly started hysterically crying.  Is this the beginning of pain transference and other Super Twin powers?

Hour 7

Chris called me to let me know that he arrived safely and that he had the good set of car keys with him in BC.  The good car keys are normal car keys.  They require no explanation.  The bad car keys (AKA my car keys this week) have a locking mechanism that is being held together with a piece of duct tape that works maybe 38% of the time.  Last year Chris, knowing very well how uncoordinated I am, threw me the keys from our porch onto the driveway, I missed and the locking mechanism smashed into many pieces....I'm so glad he can access the car readily from across the country while I have to shake the keys like maracas while pressing random buttons to get the car door open.

The weiner dog key chain, which is also a beer bottle opener serves as further evidence that these are in fact Chris's car keys and not mine.

Hour 14
Molly spit up all over her shirt, twice, then mine, twice.
Hour 26
Went over to visit a friend for tea.  Apparently Molly has developed daddy issues and spent the entire evening shamelessly flirting with my friend's husband.  She wanted nothing to do with my friend and I, ignoring us while she batted her eyelashes, giggled and jumped up and down on his lap.**
Hour 30
I couldn't sleep, but was too afraid to sit up and read the third book in the Hunger Game series, Mockingjay.  Tween fiction can be really scary and maybe the Capital really is watching.
Hour 38
90 seconds before our sitter L arrived Molly spit up all everywhere and rubbed it on my dress before I could stop her.  I smelled faintly of baby spit up at my meeting downtown. Molly 2, Mommy 0.
Hour 41
Had a Dufflet Mint Devil Cupcake for "lunch" before I headed back home to reality.  I would consider this a highlight.
Hour 42
Returned home to discover that Molly has been saying mamama and dadadada all day to our sitter L.  Felt a little cheated and sent Chris an email about our daughter the flirty traitor.
Hour 45
Was finally graced with  mamamama and dadadada from Molly, after her nap.
Hour 52
Poured myself a healthy sized glass of wine to celebrate finally getting the kids to bed.  Jack was so tired he actually stretched, smiled and sighed when I put him in his crib.
Hour 58
Woke up in the middle of the night to strange scary thumping noise.  Our 14 year old cat Pan followed me while I investigated, he thinks that he's a dog and is going to protect me.  The noise was Molly, kicking the foot board of her crib in her sleep.
Hour 62
Victorious!  Chris arrived home early and managed to crawl into bed with me for a two hour nap before the minions woke up.

I would like to extend a special thanks to my family and friends for helping me, offering extra support and for listening to me complain.  Although my log is not that different than any day parenthood it felt a lot more daunting handling it alone.  All of you single ladies and men raising kids, I don't know how you do it every day, you are truly amazing!


 *Which is unusual.  That Jack's head is made out of concrete or something equally hard.  He's constantly head butting me, his sister, his dad and he's never the one who ends up crying.
**I really want to make some sort of comment here about my daughter being a raging tramp, but feel that I can't because that little voice (Chris) is constantly reminding me that one day the minions will be able to read and they may not appreciate their mom's witty sense of humor.

Loser

Chris and I vowed that we would have adaptable babies and that they would follow our schedule.  So far that has worked for us, despite Molly's feisty spirit, until we tried the children's first weekend away on our annual ski weekend up North.  I spent all day Friday loading up the car and packing while looking after the minions.*

By the time we piled into the car I announced to Chris that I was exhausted, wouldn't be good company and may nap the entire journey North.  He said he understood.  I pulled out my Google Map directions** and asked Chris if he needed them.  He said he was fine for the beginning of the journey and then asked for my recommendation on how to get to the highway.  I suggested Jane Street North to the highway and he agreed.  I chatted with him as he drove, both of us so tired that we were oblivious that he took Jane Street to Eglinton and had directed us to the wrong Highway.  He apologized, however felt a need to point out that as front seat passenger I was responsible as both navigator and DJ and should have pointed out his error.  We grumbled at each other for about half an hour until we got on the correct highway, going the correct direction.

After our minor detour we made it to our destination without any other incident.  Our playpens were waiting in our room and our friends arrived shortly after while the babies giggled and wriggled around on a play mat on the floor.  Everything was coming up Milhouse until Molly's 9pm bed time when she decided that she wasn't going to go to bed.  In turn Jack decided that he too would stay awake, that they would both cluster feed*** and fuss and yell and cry until 2AM.  Jack then refused to sleep in his playpen and wouldn't go down until he was snuggled securely between Chris and I.  We were defeated.

The next day we had volunteer babysitters who let us hit the hills tubing to get out some of our baby induced frustration, thank you.  By mid afternoon we were crashing on the couch while taking shifts looking after babies.  By Saturday night everyone had settled in, our babies to a routine and Chris and I to complete and total exhaustion.  After a failed attempt at trying to get our babies to swim**** they went to bed on schedule at 930pm and we had the evening to ourselves to play board games and watch movies with our friends. I fell asleep in an arm chair during Scott Pilgrim while Chris stubbornly tried to pack two nights worth of fun friend time into a three hour window.  When we got home on Sunday I crashed on the couch for a two and a half hour nap.  I'd say that Chris and I lost, and I have a photo of him laying in bed with the babies early Saturday morning that proves this, although I'm not allowed to show this photo to anyone.  Minions one, Parents zero.  Dumbly, sadly, I think it's time for a rematch.



*If you like Tetris you should come help me try to load up a weekend worth of winter supplies for a family of four into our 2001 Sunfire (AKA the Sexfire).
**I no longer use MapQuest thanks to some failed directions and mockery from our friends that Chris and I live in 1998 with dial up modems and ICQ.
***Need to feed every 30-45 minutes between fussy wailing.
****I had to beg the lifeguard to let us into the pool with the kids for just a minute during adult swim hour.  Sadly they loved it and we couldn't enjoy it more.