I forgot what it was like to have a 1 year old

Juliet will be 1 in a week. I was trying to plan the small family party we're having for her and every time I asked Forrest his opinion he would respond that he had no idea what I was talking about because our baby IS NOT turning 1. We're in a little bit of denial about it.
With the twins I felt like every time they hit a new milestone I was SO excited! Cheering them on, helping them practice etc. But with Juliet I've wanted so much more for her to just stay little. She must have missed the memo. I'm sure she must not be that much different from what Charlie and Caroline were, but it seems like she does 100x more, and there's only 1 of her.
It wasn't that long ago that the twins were turning 1, but even in that short amount of time I honestly forgot what it was like to have a 1 year old. I've had to re-lock the door leading to the trash can. I have to remind myself to shut the bathroom doors when I leave. I've stopped sorting all of the toys into their various bins because they all end up on the floor in a pile anyway when Juliet enters the room. I step on oven mitts, saucepans and lids, and kitchen towels every single time I walk into the kitchen. I think I've put back everything under the sink in my bathroom at least 15 times this week. I've started storing toilet paper on the back of the toilet instead of on their rollers because she eats it, and started leaving the bathroom trash up there as well because if she can't eat fresh toilet paper she'll settle for the kind that has boogers blown into it. I can't turn my back on her or before I count to 5 she's at the top of both flights of stairs.
She disappears constantly and is still as silent as ever. I frequently have to search every room in our house before I find her hiding somewhere giggling quietly. She loves to tease me, and she knows exactly what she's doing. She loves when we throw the kids into the air in a blanket, and she waits so patiently. As soon as we put the blanket on the ground and say "it's Juliet's turn!" she crawls on there so fast and lays down on her back, as happy as a clam. She loves to clap and as soon as she hears someone clapping or the words to "If You're Happy And You Know It" she joins right in. She is a master peek-a-booer and if there's a blanket anywhere near her, you can bet it will be on her head in an instant. Her favorite word is "hi" and she thinks she's so funny. She loves her daddy and she never gets so excited as when he comes home from work.
It's near impossible to get her to sit still to change her clothes or her diaper. I swear the twins were never as wiggly as she is. I swear they couldn't climb onto the top of the toilet to get to the hidden toilet paper and trash cans when they were 1. I swear they didn't know how to go down stairs backwards before they turned 1. I swear they couldn't climb onto the couch or out of the highchair when they were 1. But I'm sure I'm wrong about it all. I just forgot what it was like to have a 1 year old.
Happy almost birthday, sweet baby girl.

Tales of a Locked-In Mommy

Once upon a time (a couple of days ago), I was home with my sweet little girls. Charlie was having a sleep-over at his cousin's house. It was a weekday, so Forrest was at work. It was almost lunchtime, and Caroline and I were playing downstairs. Juliet woke up from her nap, so I went upstairs to get her. She had a full diaper, so I stayed up to change her. While I was doing that, Care Bear made her way upstairs too and was playing in the hallway for a minute or two before coming in the room and shutting the door. Then she jiggled the door handle and laughed and said "Me me lock it, mommy!" (Remember she calls herself "me me".) I didn't really think anything of it at first. I just thought she probably was struggling to get the door open but it didn't even occur to me that she had actually locked it until I tried the handle and it was indeed locked.
Here's the backstory on the door. When we bought our home and moved in, I noticed that the door to Juliet's room had key lock on the handle. It locked from the inside. I assumed that one of the many keys we'd been given at move-in fit that door. Well when Caroline learned how to work those twist locks on doors, she accidentally locked herself in Juliet's room and couldn't get out. So I searched and searched and tried every key in the house in the door and not a single one fit. So in a panic I called Forrest and he sent me some YouTube videos about how to use a credit card to unlock a door. I tried it and it worked pretty quickly. Then a few months later, Caroline started napping in Juliet's room and was consistently locking herself in, so I turned the doorknob around so it locked from the outside instead. It solved our problem at the time.
Well this time, it created a much BIGGER problem. There I was, in the room with a hungry baby and a toddler who was pleased as punch that she had locked the door, and I had no cell phone on me. No key to the door. Nothing.
My first reaction (after freaking out a little and saying a prayer with Caroline) was to dig in a drawer in the closet and find an old credit card to try my previously learned skill of unlocking the door with a card. But every angle I tried failed. I was on the wrong side of the door.
Next I attempted to pry the door from it's hinges, but I didn't have the right tools and the hinges were extremely tight.
My next move was to open the window and frantically look around, hoping that I would see a neighbor or somebody outside that I could call to for help (in the middle of January in below-freezing conditions).
For nearly an hour I rotated between these three activities in a desperate attempt to get us out of there. Meanwhile Caroline sat laying on the changing table pretending to take a nap, giggling, and saying "Mommy, me me lock it. Don't try it mommy. Door locked." And Juliet played happily, though she was getting fussier and hungrier every minute.
When I finally realized that neither of these three plans was going to work, I started scheming to pull out the window screen, climb out onto the roof and jump to the ground. I think I actually would have done that, too, if I'd had a way to get back into the house. Our front door was locked, back door locked, and although I could have used our code to get into the garage, the interior door to the garage was also locked. My next thought was that I could jump out and run to a neighbors house to borrow their phone to call Forrest, but his cell phone doesn't work in his office building and I don't have his office number memorized. Also the thought of leaving my kids alone in a room on the top floor with the window wide open was terrifying. Let alone the leap I'd have to make from the roof onto the grass below. So I ruled that out.
Finally I came to the realization that there was only one way I was going to get out of that mess. I had to kick the door down. I moved the girls back away from the door and got a little excited that I would actually be able to test my strength against a solid(ish) door. And then I kicked the door in. It took one solid kick to get the door on the other side of the frame, and then another good 2 or 3 kicks to get a gap big enough for me to get all three of us out through.
The whole time I was kicking the girls were just crying. Caroline kept telling me not to break the door, and Juliet had no clue what was going on except that there was a loud noise and Caroline was crying.
Once we finally got out, I called Forrest to tell him my tale. He just laughed and said it's a good thing I'm a she-hulk. Then he came home to take the door off the hinges and make the room accessible again. My dad came later and helped get the doorframe back in place. The door, on the other hand, is unfixable. I tried to be gentle (or at least as "gentle" as you can be when you're breaking down a door) but apparently that didn't help much.

Here she is in all her glory.

On the bright side, though, I felt like a Bona Fide Special Agent. You can call me Annie Walker, if you'd like.

So long, 7:00 bedtime.

Charlie started climbing out of his crib when he was 17 months old. He didn't just climb out once and then not do it again, like a lot of kids do. Once he figured out he could escape there was no keeping him in. So we promptly took the bottom out of his crib and put his mattress flat on the ground to buy us a few more inches and a little more time. That worked for a couple of months until he figured out that he could tip his entire crib over and use the slats as monkey-bars. By the time he had that down, Caroline had finally gotten brave enough to climb out of her crib on a consistent basis. They were about 20 months old at this point. So we heeded the advice of some friends with much older twins and turned their cribs upside down on top of them like cages. At naptime and bedtime we would lift one side of the crib up off the ground, they would get on hands and knees and climb right in. It wasn't a perfect solution but it at least kept the madness contained to their cages. That lasted until just before they turned 2.

One day we had the brilliant idea to try out toddler beds. Sheer genius, I tell you (insert eye roll here). The first night we were completely shocked that they actually stayed in their beds. I thought it was going to be perfect and wonderful and way better than cages. I couldn't have been more wrong! It didn't take long for them to start getting out of bed. And pull every single article of clothing out of their drawers. And try on every single sock and every single shoe. And try fit six bowties around their waist at a time. Every time I entered their room, there was no floor to be seen.

But at least the mess was contained. Their room only. I could live with that. And then they figured out how to open doors. The dreaded day of days. I woke up at 4:30 AM with a tiny little finger (not mine) stuck up my nose. Good thing I had doorknob covers in stock and ready to pull out when needed. It took Charlie less that a day to figure out how to break them off the doorknobs (on Caroline's bidding, probably. I always say she is the brains and he is the muscle). For over a week they woke up between 4:30 and 5:30 AM. If there is one good thing about that, though, it is that it made me really appreciate their standard 7:30 AM wakeup time, which I used to think was far too early for little humans to be up and roaming around.

We passed the super early wake-up phase, thank heavens. And now we are stuck in the "never going to sleep" era. Oh how I miss those days of putting them down at 7:00 and knowing they would be asleep before long. I used to really look forward to bedtime. And now I dread it. Dread with a capital D. Caroline wants the light on so she can read. Charlie hates the light on but wants the door open with the hall light on. Caroline doesn't like the door open and keeps getting up to shut it. Charlie wants his bear to sit up next to him in bed but his bear keeps falling over, because it's stuffed and stuffed bears don't sit up very well. And when stuffed bears don't sit up very well, that's cause for many many tears in our house. Caroline demands that every single book in sight be on her bed. But then she can't lay down because the books are taking up the entire surface area of her bed. And heaven forbid you take the books out of the room. She NEEDS her books. If there is even a single book on top of the dresser, you'd better believe she will be found standing in one of the drawers trying to climb onto the top of the dresser to get it down and safely into her bed with the other books. Charlie has at least eight blue blankies. And try as I might to hide all but one or two of them in the dresser, he goes to bed with a couple of them and cries and cries that he needs "mo' blankies." He would steal Caroline's in a heart beat if she'd let him.

You get the gist. Lots of tears and bedtime. And when there aren't tears, there are giggles. I love giggles. But giggles are now an indication that somebody is out of bed and running around the room with a bare bum and yelling "nakey nakey!". How do you even get mad about that? Especially when accompanying the bare bum are a pair of blue dinosaur rain boots and the cutest little head of white hair you've ever seen?

Long story short, our 7:00 bedtime has turned into 7:00 bedtime that doesn't actually end until 9:30. I'm not too hopeful that it will get better anytime soon!

The New Routine

 

I was reading back through some old blog posts and I came across this post about our daily routine when the twins were Juliet's age. I laughed out loud at how different life is now, and how much crazy has come into our lives. Here's a little look at what I'm talking about, a peek into our average every-day kind of a day:

7 AM - twins wake up, climb on top of the dresser, pull out every article of clothing in any drawer in their room, empty the trash can and laundry basket, undress themselves and attempt to re-dress themselves in swimming suits and rain boots, and spread lotion all over every available surface
7:15 - I finally realize they are awake and walk in to find what appears to be the aftermath of Hurricane Charlie and Caroline
7:16 - rush to the potty and sing "The Wheels on the Bus" for what already feels like the 57th time that day
7:20 - go rescue Juliet from her crib moments before Charlie crashes in on top of her, and remind myself that I need to put a child-proof door knob cover on her door
7:30 - make oatmeal and toast for the twins, strap them in their seats with their milk, breakfast, and "treats" (which are actually vitamins. I've conned them into thinking they are a treat.), and then sit down to feed Juliet
7:45 - clean up the kitchen which was spotless before breakfast and is somehow now coated in a layer of oatmeal, and grab myself something to eat, also intermittently interfering in Charlie's attempts to lay on top of Juliet (confession - sometimes I let him do it if it doesn't appear to be bothering her. I have to pick my battles)
8:00 - put Juliet back in bed. Brush kids teeth (this involves me pinning them to the ground and holding their head in-between my knees. Caroline's tears usually make a brief appearance.), do hair, use the potty again, and get dressed for the day. Sounds simple, but it takes a certain amount of finesse to get Caroline to allow me to touch her hair and get it done in the brief moments of light that Charlie's obsession with flipping the bathroom lights on and off allows me. Also taking care to keep the water faucet pointed toward "cold" so that Charlie doesn't burn himself when he gets bored with the lights and moves to turning the water on and off
8:15 - mop up the bathroom counters and floors from all of the water that somehow made its way out of the sink and onto everything else
8:20 - go into my bedroom and attempt to get dressed. If I'm super lucky, I might get to use the bathroom privately, and might get a bonus of brushing my teeth, putting my contacts in, or maybe even putting on makeup (ha! not likely). Meanwhile, my room now looks like it too was hit by Hurricane Char and Care.
8:30 - head down in the basement, our most kid-proof area in the house, and play. We work on puzzles, peg boards, and mega blocks. We play pretend with dolls and little people and throw balls at each other. The kids climb over the back of the couch and play peek-a-boo with each other. At some point I go and get Juju, feed her, and add her to the madness.
Noon - finally lunch time. Head upstairs, and I make one of three meals: grilled cheese, cheese quesadilla, or macaroni and cheese (somebody loves cheese a little too much..) Eat, potty, and then the most glorious time of all is here.
1 PM - Nap time!! Hallelujah. Caroline goes in her bed in her room. Charlie goes in Juliet's crib. Juliet goes in the pack n play in my room. Put them all down then sit in the hallway watching the monitors like a hawk. Go put Charlie back in the crib at least 4 times. Take Caroline to the potty once or twice more. Then finally, heaven-sent silence. If I'm lucky I get 2.5 hours of beautiful wonderful naptime. Enter the debate: nap? Clean up after hurricanes? Work on a project? Watch TV? The possibilities are endless, and yet somehow I find myself spending at least 15 of those precious naptime minutes sitting in the bathroom scrolling through my Facebook news feed. So lame.
3:30 - twins wake up from nap. Same sequence occurs as when they wake up in the morning, only this time they are in two separate rooms so Juilet's room now gets the hurricane treatment as well. I swear they get out of bed silently and destroy without making a peep.
4:00 - try to start some kind of a dinner, all while protecting Juju from her siblings and protecting the twins from hurting themselves. Charlie inevitably bring his bike over to the stove and tries to use it as a stool to get up and help me cook. Caroline digs into the drawer and pulls out two oven mitts and tries to open the hot oven saying "help you mommy!". I constantly remind myself to keep the knives away from the edges of the countertops, in the sink, or basically anywhere except for the top of the refrigerator.
5:30 - dinner. Convince the twins that they can have a "treat" (treat this time meaning applesauce, yogurt, or Almonds..) if they finish their dinner. Charlie finishes first every single time and gets his treat. Caroline cries that she doesn't get her treat yet, then finally after many tears decides it worth eating her dinner for.
6:30 - twins bath, brush teeth, potty, go on horsey rides, read scriptures, say prayers, tickle their guts out and then sing lots and lots of songs. And read lots of stories. And then some more.
7:00 - lights out, door shut, and hope they stay in bed. Sit by the door and listen to their conversations.
Charlie - Gramma!
Caroline - No! No gramma. Night night.
Char - Outside!
Care - No! No outside. Night night.
Char - Jumping jellybean!
Care - No! No jumping jellybean. Night night.
She loves her sleep, and she also loves telling Charlie no.
7:30 - Juliet bath (on the good days), feed her, and put her in bed.
And then party because all 3 kids are in bed and asleep before 8:00. Do some laundry, sleep, and repeat. That's how we roll.

Double Diaper Trouble

If I've been a little absent lately, it's because I've been cleaning up poop. Not even kidding. I should warn you that this post will include a lot of talk about poop and other unpleasant bodily functions. Not mine, thankfully, but disgusting none the less.

I don't know what kind of a special affinity my children have for pooping on me, but they've had it since they were newborn. All three of them. And I'm not just talking blowouts or diaper explosions, I mean like pooping all over my leg in the middle of a diaper change, or pooping on me when I pick them up to put them in the tub. I've been pooped on more times than I can count. But little exclusively-breastfed-baby-poop isn't so bad. It cleans up pretty easily and doesn't smell awful. But the bigger they get, the worse it gets.

The twins were about 15 months old when they (and by they, I mean Caroline) learned how to take off their diapers. That's the way it works around here. One figures out how to do it and does it over and over again until the other learns how. So when they say "double trouble" for twins, they really should say quadruple trouble. Because not only are there two children with their own ideas of how to get into trouble, but they are each learning from and copying the other's trouble-making skills. Learning to un-diaper themselves was one of those nasty, awful, no good trouble-making skills. And they both mastered it very early on. I think it's payback for laughing about one of my besties' babies learning to un-diaper before her mom was ready to go through potty training. I had no idea.

When they started un-diapering, I was pretty big pregnant with Juliet. I wanted to potty train, but I knew it was a bit early and frankly I just didn't have the energy to do it. So I opted for duct tape instead. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn't. I got to where I would go around the entire circumference of the diaper around their waist two times with a strip of duct tape. But even then they would somehow weasel themselves out of it.

They got into a really awful habit of taking their diapers off in the middle of the night. So then they would wake up sopping wet. And on some very unfortunate mornings, I would walk in to the awful stench of tiny human poop spread all over their sheets. And their hair. And their crib slats. And under their fingernails. And sometimes (I shudder even to think it) even smeared around their mouths. Gag. Cut to me rinsing out pajamas and sheets in the toilet, wiping my babies down with wet wipes and spraying them off (from a distance) in the shower. I seriously think I deserve a medal for the amount of poop I've had to clean up in my less than two year stint as a mother.

After Juliet arrived, I decided it was time to potty train. I committed myself to three entire days and nights diaper-free. Day 1 was awful. I think we maybe had one success. The entire day. Potty training two little bums at the same time is a lot harder than I expected. It seemed like each time one was sitting on the potty, the other had an accident. And trying to put two little bums on the potty every 20 minutes while also breastfeeding a newborn and trying to maintain peace and cleanliness in our home is no small task.

Day 2 was better. After I caught her mid-pee and stuck her on the potty to finish, Caroline seemed to get the hang of it. Charlie would pee on the potty but had a hard time going #2. By day 3 Caroline had it down and rarely had accidents after that. Charlie, not so much. He went back into diapers on day 4. That was about 2 months ago when the twins were 20 months old. Caroline still does really well for the most part. I still take extra undies and pants with us everywhere we go, and I still wash her sheets nearly every morning because she wets the bed, but I consider here successfully potty trained.

Charlie still rips his diaper off nearly every night. I've given up on duct tape because it's a pain in the rear and it doesn't work half the time anyway. So every morning when I go into their room I cross my fingers that it's only a wet diaper I have to deal with. The finger crossing works exactly 67% of the time. The other 33% of the time I'm not so lucky. And each time, the award that I think I deserve gets bigger and bigger.

I'm almost out of size 4 diapers. When I run out, I have sworn that I will never put another diaper on that boy. I figure I'm cleaning up his poop anyway, so I may as well be doing it in the name of potty training. Heaven help me!

And with that, I hereby promise I will never talk about poop this much ever again. The end.

Outnumbered

I grew up in a family of 7. It was my mom, my dad, and 5 super awesome daughters. My poor dad - he is a very patient man. He handled it pretty well. He does blame us (the girls) for every single gray hair and every last inch of balding on his head, and I think he's probably right in doing that. We didn't exactly give him an easy time. I think I remember one of my sisters getting caught using my mom's razor to shave my dad's head while he was napping in the bathtub. I personally recall drawing pictures all over any part of exposed skin with my mom's lipstick while he napped on the couch (maybe he should have learned not to ever nap while we were around). My mom even has some blackmail pictures of him wearing one of her dresses, some heels, makeup and jewelry. He would occasionally let us paint his toenails and put clips in his hair. He was a good sport. And he was always our biggest supporter. Whatever we were doing - whether it was a sporting event, a play, cheerleading or a spelling bee - he made an effort to be there. In short, my dad is a rockstar.

When I was little, we bought a boat. Most of us called it the banana boat because it was as yellow as a perfectly ripe banana, but my dad officially named it "Outnumbered." It was quite fitting. The guy was surrounded by 6 females constantly. Even when we all started having kids of our own, it was years before a boy finally made an appearance.

I think I'm starting to have some sympathy pains for my dad's experiences. Not being outnumbered in terms of gender, but simply being outnumbered by my children. When it was just me and Charlie and Caroline at home, it was manageable. Crazy, yes, but doable. And then when Forrest was home from work we could move to a man-on-man defense. It worked well for us. Enter Juliet. Now life is a whole different story!

Life is now a whole new level of crazy. Still wonderful, of course. But so crazy. Juliet and I have had to learn to breastfeed "on the go." Meaning that I often have to jump up with her in the middle of a feeding to pry Charlie away from Caroline before he rips a chunk of hair out of her head. Or I have to intervene when Caroline is about to slam the door on Charlie's little fingers. Or when one of them has climbed onto the kitchen counter and is headed straight for something dangerous.

As an added bonus, I now have 3 children in 3 different sizes of diapers. Not at all confusing! My plan is to potty train ASAP, though I don't know how in the world I can give the twins enough attention to successfully potty train while I'm feeding a baby around the clock. Wish me luck with that one!

Even when Forrest is home to help, leaving the house takes us about 5,692 times longer than it used to. And once we do finally get out the door, inevitably someone is hungry, or a diaper needs changed, or I forgot to stock the diaper bag with diapers, wipes, or an extra change of clothes. Or I forgot to brush my teeth. Gross, I know, but when you are so focused on getting 3 little bodies ready to leave, it's easy to forget the basic things like that!

In all honesty though, having Juliet at home has still been 100 times easier than the first couple of months with the twins. Having two newborns was just so demanding! With only one baby to wake up with in the night, I feel so well rested. Seriously. So much easier with one, even though I am woefully outnumbered.

Grocery Store Games

Prior to having children, I'd heard friends tell horror stories of experiences with their children at the grocery store. I remember being absolutely terrified to every take my own children to the store. But once the kids arrived, it was inevitable. There were times that I had to decide whether to starve or to brave a trip for groceries. The first time I took both babes shopping by myself they were 6 weeks old. I left Caroline in her car seat and put that into the cart, and I put Charlie in a pack and wore him on my chest. And it was great! Sure I couldn't fit hardly anything into the cart because it was 98% occupied by a car seat, but the kids both slept the entire time and it was a piece of cake (relatively speaking). Being in the store was the easy part. The hard part was getting the kids and groceries back into the house. And it hasn't gotten any easier. I usually carry both babies in and set them in their cribs (which brings lots of tears and screaming) while I run out and bring in the freezer and refrigerator items. The rest of the groceries come in later after they are in bed, when Forrest gets home from work, or sometimes even the next day. I don't love that, but there are times that it just has to happen that way. 

After that first shopping trip, I remember thinking that I was supermom. Two kids and a grocery store? No problem. Bring it on. I continued to take them both to do the grocery shopping a few times a month until they were about 7 months old. Every time we went, I would leave one in the car seat and wear one in the pack. Easy peasy. Some days they were a little fussier and didn't sleep at all, but we still made it work. Once in a while I would go shopping while we were out on a walk. I would take some reusable grocery bags and use that in lieu of a cart. I would hand them from the stroller using the "mommy clip" which is an awesome giant carribeaner that fits on the handle of the stroller and can hold a lot of stuff. That worked well as long as we didn't need big and heavy things like milk etc. 

I thought we had it made. Shopping was no problem. Then they started getting bigger. And heavier. And much less content to just sit in their car seat or a pack. At about 7 months they wanted to sit in the seat in front of the cart. There are a few problems with this option: 1) unless you are at Costco, most carts only accomodate one child in that seat, 2) trying to carry both babes to a cart is ridiculously difficult. (Note to self - always park next to a stray cart. Always.) I drive around the parking lot until I find a stray cart, and then I put them both in that one single seat anyway. They just have to stick both legs through one hole. Actually what they usually end up doing is putting one leg through and bending the other leg up on the seat. They're not the most comfortable, but they usually sit happily like that and enjoy trying to reach out and grab every item we pass. Sometimes, though, they don't sit happily. Sometimes they steal eachother's toys. Sometimes (by sometimes I mean ALL times) Caroline pulls Charlie's glasses off his face. Sometimes Charlie pulls Caroline's hair. And sometimes I want to pull my own hair. Not feeling so much like supermom anymore. 

I need a new plan. Last time I was at the grocery store, I saw (far away from the rest of the grocery carts) some of those awesome carts that have a little car with steering wheels down at the front of the cart. And it's a little tender mercy that they have two buckles and two steering wheels. I'm hoping beyond all hope that those little car carts will distract my crazy little munchkins enough to prevent hair- and glasses-pulling, at least for 30 minutes so I can get enough food to keep us fed for a few days. Fingers crossed! Let the grocery store games continue.

The Rhinoceros and the Puppy Dog

A few weeks ago it was pointed out to me that Charlie is a little bit of a bulldozer. Or a "rough and tumble" little boy. I prefer to think of him as a rhinoceros. Seriously though, that kid has no fear. He also has no regard for anything or anyone that gets in his way. If Caroline is trying to get to a toy on the other side of an obstacle, she crawls around it. Not Charlie. He goes right over it, even if "it" is Caroline's face. Or mine. He literally headbutts his sister 10 times a day. She doesn't mind so I usually just let it happen. Except when he does it at church - then I at least try to appear like I'm trying to keep him from bowling her over. And he dives off of everything. I mean DIVES. Head first. From the couch onto the end table. Out of the bathtub. Into the bathtub. Down the stairs. He seriously falls 378 times a day. And gets bruises and bloody noses and bloody lips and any other kind of skin abraison you can think of. I promise I do try to keep him safe. I've seriously considered just wrapping him from head to toe in layers of bubble wrap. He eats like a rhino too. I give him half a banana most mornings to start his breakfast. He picks it up, squishes it between his cubby little fingers and then tries the shove the entire thing in his mouth at once. What doesn't make it in ends up smeared on his face, his arms, his high chair, and the wall. And anything that is left on his tray ends up bouncing off when he pounds his tray with his fists just for the fun of it. To save myself some trouble I've started stripping him down to a diaper for every meal and then throwing him under the sink afterwards to clean him up. It's just easier.

Caroline, on the other hand, is the most dainty little eater I've ever seen. She rarely drops food or gets anything on her face. She is perfectly clean all the time. Other than the cleanliness, everything she does reminds me of a puppy. And that's not just because she barks nonstop. She follows me everywhere. From room to room, right on my heels. And if she's playing with a toy when I leave and she wants to bring it with her, she carries it in her mouth. I'm not kidding, she really does. It's pretty adorable. She is always happy and she pants when she gets excited. And she is so incredibly smart. My parents have stairs at their house, so my dad built a gate many many years ago to keep us from falling. It has been in place for roughly 30 years. The latch isn't super easy to open - some of my nieces (4-6 years old) even struggle to get the latch open and closed. Not Caroline. She watched intently while people would open and close it, and the figured out how to do it herself. She sneaks over and opens it and tries to get Charlie to go down the stairs and fetch all the toys they threw down there. Crazy girl. 

And then this happened today. They are both so smart. They watch what I do and then try to copy it. They LOVE going outside, and clearly they are determined to find a way to get out whenever they want. I'm in big trouble. My little rhino and the puppy dog sure do keep me on my toes!

Note to Self

Parents make mistakes. And as a parent of twins I sometimes feel like I make twice the number of mistakes as the average parent. Usually after I make a mistake of some sort, I make a mental "note to self" in an effort to remember not to do it again. They usually look something like this:

Note to Self - Never ever ever fall asleep while the twins are awake and running free in the house. There are many possible disasters that can occur. IE) getting a banana smashed over your sleeping head, getting a mini baby bite (which hurts equally bad as a non-mini baby bite) on you toe, having the house torn to pieces.. you get the idea.

Note to Self - Never leave a basket of newly washed and folded laundry on the floor. Unless you are ok with having to rewash and refold every item in it.

Note to Self - Never put an infant into a car seat without buckling them in. At some point, you will put them in the car and drive all the way home only to realize that they were unbuckled the entire time.

Note to Self - Never EVER let a little boy eat spaghetti while wearing white. Even if he is wearing a bib. Just don't do it.

Note to Self - Remember that same little boy that you aren't going to let eat spaghetti while wearing white? Also take note to never let him go without a diaper. Even if it's for 10 seconds. You will regret it 100% of the time.

Note to Self - Don't put your kids in car seats, high chairs, or on your hip while they are wearing a swim diaper. Everything they touch will smell like pee.

Note to Self - If your twins aren't used to sleeping in the same bed, DO NOT try to get them to sleep in the same bed. If you are lucky, you may be able to pick one up and move them in with the other while they are asleep.. but only if you are lucky. Save yourself some pain and lots of tears by not expecting or even half-hoping that they will fall asleep by eachother, because most likely it will turn into an all-out brawl.

Note to Self - Never let Charlie and Caroline play next to eachother while Charlie is wearing his glasses. Both will end up in tears.

Note to Self - If your kids are afraid of the vacuum, don't try to vacuum while they are asleep, awake, or playing in a different room. Basically just never vacuum. It will save you a lot of heartache.

And the list goes on..