1. Rocket Boy gets up at 7:30 and I follow around 8:15, with Baby B up by about 8:30 and Baby A maybe at 8:45. (How on earth we will get them to school by 7:55 in a week and a half? I have NO idea.) First we have the usual fight about getting dressed: refusal to choose clothes, anger at Mom when she dares to choose for us, refusal to put on clothes, etc. Breakfast is the usual free for all. Baby B wants a turkey sandwich AND a piece of toast with margarine EXCEPT maybe he doesn't want it after all. Baby A wants a piece of toast with margarine and honey, cut into EIGHT sticky pieces. Whenever I try to fix something for myself, someone demands something else. Eventually we are all fed, washed up, and still speaking to each other (barely).
2. Interest has been expressed in swimming, so that is our plan for today. At 10 am we set out for the East Boulder Rec Center, where we "swim" from about 10:45 to 12:45. East Boulder has a very pleasant "lazy river" that I like to float down, with or without a twin. It also has a giant slide, which Rocket Boy has to go down over and over and over again, alternating between the two boys. I bravely go on it once, with Baby B, and find it so terrifying I can't bring myself to do it again. "You get used to it," Rocket Boy tells me, but I just shake my head.
3. Home for lunch, which, for the twins, consists once again of turkey sandwiches and toast. Rocket Boy has a can of oysters, which the twins share with him. I find canned oysters so disgusting I can hardly be in the same room with them, but the twins open their mouths wide for their father to place an oyster on their tongues. And then they chew. Oh, it's so gross. I fix myself a frozen meal in the microwave, but while it's cooking, Rocket Boy sets up the coffee pot to make tea, promptly short-circuiting the microwave. We do this twice before we realize we can't run both appliances at once. I eat my lukewarm "meal," just glad it isn't a can of oysters.
4. After lunch, Rocket Boy volunteers to watch the Mary Poppins commentary disk with the twins, while I get some computer time. From the other end of the hall I can hear "Supercalifragilistic..." from the DVD and "Stop that!" from Rocket Boy. After an hour, things have completely disintegrated, so I volunteer to take the twins to a park.
5. I push them in the stroller to Tantra Park, which is walking distance from our house, but kind of a long walk. The twins are really too big and heavy (nearly 40 lbs each) to be pushed in a stroller, and it makes the walk REALLY hard for me, but on the other hand, I get some good exercise. And if I made them walk that far they would do a lot of complaining, including possibly sitting down in the middle of the sidewalk and refusing to go any further (it's happened). Thus the stroller.
6. We stay at Tantra Park about an hour. The playground includes a little house with a sort of countertop that the twins use for "cooking." Baby B runs to me (I sit in the covered shelter nearby) and asks what kind of fruit or vegetable I want. "Apples," I say. "Sorry," he says. "We're out of apples." "OK," I say, "How about asparagus?" "We're down to two asparaguses!" Baby A shouts. "But we do have special asparagus," Baby B whispers to me. "It's either lime or lemon." "I'll take lemon," I say, and on we go. When they aren't preparing vegetables and fruit, they pretend to make spaetzle, which is a German noodle dish that Dad likes to make (in fact, he made it yesterday). Of course, they won't eat it when he makes it, but an awful lot of spaetzle gets made at the park.
7. At 5 pm I say it's time to go, and there is substantial disagreement about that. During the disagreement, Baby B manages to bump into a yellow jacket, which promptly stings him on the leg. Horrible screaming ensues. All I can do is pour what's left of our water on the sting and urge both boys into the stroller so we can get home ASAP. But it's at least a half hour walk, so ASAP won't be very soon. After walking for a few minutes, Baby B sobbing all the way, I decide to call Rocket Boy (my cell phone is charged, truly a wonder) and ask him to come get us. He does, and so we get home maybe 15 minutes sooner than we would have under Mom power.
8. At home, Rocket Boy takes over the wound care (he is a MUCH better nurse than I am) and I start making dinner. The night before, we had spaetzle, of course, and fried chicken from the King Soopers deli. I know the kids want more chicken tonight, but I also have some fish in the fridge, and it is on the verge of going bad. So I cook the fish, reheat the spaetzle and gravy, and also make a quick peach-plum pie (which goes into the oven when the fish comes out). (Where are the vegetables, I know you are wondering, and all I can say is... hmm, maybe tomorrow.) The twins "help" make the pie, if picking slices of peach and plum out of the unbaked pie crust can be called "helping." When the food is ready I call everyone to dinner, and immediately there is a problem. "I don't want FISH!" says Baby A, offended. "Where's the chicken?" Baby B asks. "We're having the rest of the chicken tomorrow night," I explain. "Tonight we need to eat the fish." Baby B throws a tantrum and I send him to his room. He slams the door and a few minutes later we hear a scream. Rocket Boy hurries to investigate. Baby B won't tell him what happened, but he has huge red cat scratches on his cheek, so it's pretty obvious. Boos just can't seem to learn how to pet a cat. After a while Baby B comes out of his room and eats the fish (but no spaetzle).
9. We had talked about going out for ice cream earlier, but now that I have a pie in the oven, I can't leave the house. As soon as the pie is done, however, the twins beg for ice cream (no interest in this lovely pie, sigh).
10. I finish my treat first, so I decide to walk next door to Sprouts grocery store and get a few things we need: bread, eggs, whipping cream (for the pie). I like Sprouts, so I wander around a bit, picking up some more peaches, bananas, might as well get milk. As I am checking out, just about to pay, Rocket Boy walks in and sets a watermelon on the checkout stand. "We'll take this too," he says, just as I notice that the watermelon has a huge crack in it. "Oh no," a store clerk says, following him and taking the watermelon away. "You don't have to buy this one, go get another." It turns out that Baby B had tried to pick up the watermelon (from the bins out in front of the store) and dropped it. Rocket Boy gets another watermelon, I buy it, and we go home.
11. After I put away the food, there are the usual arguments about bedtime, but not as bad as it sometimes is. The twins are in their pajamas pretty quickly and then I read two chapters of Pinocchio (after we rented the movie we had to read the book), and then a picture book called Peter in Blueberry Land. (This week is "Fruit Week" so I got some books out of the library about fruit. There are a surprisingly large number.) I can barely get through the book, keep falling asleep and reading the wrong words, so I send them off to brush their teeth, and then spit spot, into bed before I collapse on the floor.
12. I fix myself a small piece of pie (yes, I know, it's no mystery why I'm struggling with WW), and watch the 9 pm news, and then I come back here and write this blog entry. Now I need to take a shower (assuming I'm capable of standing for that long) and get ready for bed.
And TOMORROW is another day. I can hardly wait.
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