Memory Hoarder

Last week, my parents had a garage sale at their house, selling all kinds of miscellaneous stuff they had set aside at their house, and that we had brought them from our house.  You know, old mugs, shelves we weren't using, books, ugly Christmas stuff, etc.  I had arranged for Ben and Maggie to be with their cousin one day, and my inlaws the other day so I was able to bring Mia and just help.  Since it wasn't that busy, I don't know how useful I was for the sale, but my parents decided to use the opportunity to pull out some boxes of mine they had been storing in the basement so I could go through them and see if I wanted things, or if they could try to sell more of it. 

Oh.my.God.  I have always known that I have a little bit of a hoarding tendency.  NOT, for the record, anything at all like the people we see on Hoarders who keep every bit of trash that comes into their house.  We watch that show and feel much better about our clutter.  But the things I hoard are things that have sentimental value.  At least in theory.  One of the boxes I went through had notes from my best friend in early high school, angry 14 year old diary entries of my own (I was a horrible diary keeper so there are few entries and huge gaps) and other random stuff I apparently had shoved in a drawer or something that ended up in that box.  Old keychains.  Pins.  $7.12.  Ugly old jewelry.  What I found was that I am no longer sentimental about some of my childish things.  I threw away or put into the garage sale many things that I imagine at some point in college I had deemed important enough to save.  I realized that what has changed now is what I hoard.  Memories. 

I haven't printed photos off in a long time, but I have so many albums around the house it is ridiculous.  I have things laying around that I would love to someday put in a scrapbook, but I don't do much scrapbooking.  Or any really.  I like keeping things from when I was little, thinking that my kids might be interested in them like I was interested in things like that from my parents.  My parents have up in the attic several family heirlooms that were left to me.  China.  Silverware.  Crystal.  I think my Dad was wanting me to say that I was ready to try to sell it off, because it wasn't my style, and not something I had any room for.  But to me, that stuff is memories.  Maybe they aren't even mine, but the fact that the china was something my Great-Great Aunt who I was named for mailed piece by piece to my Grandmother makes them special to me. 

What I am trying to say about hoarding memories?  In addition to things that I am holding onto, I was thinking about how this blog is a way to keep track of stories about the kids, things I am afraid I will forget.  I am not the Mom who can tell you when each of my kids said their first word, or when they started using forks, or gave up their binkies.  I am sure I could narrow it down with photos, or notes in this blog, but I am always amazed when people ask these kinds of questions on our local board and people can answer with exactly how many weeks/months/etc. their kids were when they did certain things.  I have been trying to sit down and write an entry in this blog for a long time and a lot of things came up that could very well have been whole entries.  Memories of the good and not good variety that I'm going to try to cover in between photos.  Let's see how this goes.

First of all, I want to document more evidence here that we make the cutest kids on the planet.  Seriously, considering the money situation, maybe we should consider making extras to sell on ebay?  I had so many cute photos of Mia that didn't really need captions, so here, just enjoy the sweet baby.   

 Come on, Mom, I'm just starting to get ahold of this head, what is this crazy thing you have me in?

These two we have been referring to as chaos and confusion.  They have gotten into all kinds of trouble lately, mainly because they are having too much fun with each other right now.  It is great when your twins get along.  It is not great when they are toddlers, and there are more of them than there are of you, and getting along means causing trouble.  I will go into the kitchen to empty the dishwasher and will find them running around the living room with their clothes off pretending to swim.  Or wrestling.  Or yelling at each other to "Go stand in the corner, RIGHT NOW!"  I'm not sure where they heard that.  There have been times that they have been so sweet to each other, have given each other hugs and kisses and said I love you.  Sometimes the pretend play together is so amazing to watch and listen to.     

Monday had been a bad day.  Let's briefly recap Monday first, in bullet point fashion. 

• Mia had to go to the doctor for a rash that looked like Rubella.  It was not Rubella.  (See below)
• I had to take Ben with me to the doctor that day.  He does not have an infection on his penis. 
• I had an appointment with my eye doctor for some weird vision disturbances I was having.  His best guess was that I had a mini stroke, and was sending me to a retina specialist.  (I probably did not have a stroke, I found out yesterday, but it made for a very panicky couple of days)
• That's enough, isn't it?

 
So Tuesday I might not have been in the best mood.  Tired, stressed, thinking I was going to die, and waiting for the next doctor.  Maybe it was just a ploy to get my mind off of things, or Ben and Maggie decided to team up to drive me crazy, but the day started off to me hearing a conversation about poop on the monitor.  This is always a good way to get my ass out of bed.  I walked in and found Maggie without a diaper, telling me she had pooped, and Ben telling me that he had stepped in poop.  This is how we started a poop scavenger hunt.  Finding a couple pieces of hard poop on the brown carpet, one on the rocker, and then of course the ones behind the crib that smeared on the wall on its way down. 

I wish I was making this up. 

Imagine all kinds of angry and horrified mommy things I am sure I said here.  We have had a couple conversations about this, and my lecture has progressed into something like "We don't throw poop, we don't touch poop, touching poop will make us sick.  If you get sick, you will have to go to the doctor and get shots. Shots that will hurt. And you will go to the hospital.  By yourself.  No one will come and visit you.  Not even Nama and Grandpa." I had to strip off her bed, wipe off the wall, and oh there was some yelling.  They both got tossed in the bathtub for a shower (they hate them) because I wasn't sure who had touched the poop.  Horrified of my children, I braced myself for a tough day.  By this I mean I decided to up my happy meds a little.  Back to the doctor prescribed amount.  What, you would have done it too, believe me.

There was a lot of brattiness that morning (time outs, broken glasses, Ben pooping in his underwear without me knowing and then having it fall out onto the floor), but let's just fast forward to nap.  My Mom was here keeping me company, and apparently also there that day by the grace of God to ensure I didn't kill her grandchildren.  By naptime, I was exhausted and done with them.  Most days we have been putting them down in different rooms for nap since otherwise it is like a rave every day in their room.  This day though, I had to get some things done in Mia's room so I left them in their room.  We decided that as long as they were in their room and out of our hair for a couple hours, that was good enough.

See, a few weeks ago we decided that Ben was ready for his big boy bed since he had been climbing out of his crib but couldn't get back in.  He was great, most of the time, and loves his bed. 

So I had already gone in a couple of times to check on them and to change diapers.  After they had been in there over an hour, enough was enough and I went to see what was going on.  The smell that hit me when I opened the door was horrendous.  I couldn't even believe what I saw.  Ben had dragged the ottoman over to the diaper hamper and emptied out about half of the full hamper of dirty cloth diapers.  They were distributed between their two cribs.  Diaper shells with poop on them, soaked inserts, dirty cloth wipes, everywhere.  And they were playing with them.  Maggie (who is still stuck in her crib for now) was literally laying in a pile of them.  And I thought I had been horrified earlier in the day.  Imagine again, this mommy feeling like crying yelling "OH MY GOD, WHAT DID YOU DO???"  This is disgusting and dirty, and mommy is so so so so so mad!!!  I got them out of bed, stripped them down and sent them to my Mom who put them in the shower for the second time that day because of poop and pee.  I took everything out of their cribs, blankets, lovies, sheets, everything and tossed it down to the laundry for what was yet another couple loads of laundry.  All diapers went back into the hamper, Ben's crib got flipped around backwards so it resembled a jail cell with the back in the front, and both of them got left in their clothes on bare mattresses.  And I didn't let them pick out their new diapers OR their clothes, which of course made them mad. 

I left them in the room together, but my blood pressure could only take about 15 minutes of them talking, Ben climbing up on the sides of his crib, and the jumping and giggling hilarity that ensued before I gave up and took Maggie into Mia's room.  After all, the goal was to get them to sleep.  This was approximately 2 hours into what is usually a two hour nap.  I had been putting away laundry, had just thrown a load into the washer so couldn't even throw their piles of bedding in, and gave up and sat down and had a snack.  When Andy got home, I was so horrified, so angry at them still, so feeling like a horrible, overwhelmed, no good Mommy that I told him I was leaving.  He had mentioned something about going out to run a couple of errands after he had been home for a good half an hour, I told him no way in hell was he going and leaving me with the, and I took the baby and ran away from home.  It was a sad attempt at running away, I only made it to JoAnn Fabric, Babies R Us and my friend Dawn's house since it wasn't quite bedtime yet and she hadn't met the baby.  Part of me found it really funny that I ran away, but still took one of my kids with me.  I was hauling her in and out of the car, into stores, and it was still a delightful escape from the rest of my day. 

Tuesday, for sure, she was my favorite.  I told her so.  Multiple times.  And on Tuesday I meant it.  I know, I know, you aren't supposed to play favorites, and I usually don't, but when I do, it's not like it's always the same kid.  I have days where Ben is my favorite and where Maggie is my favorite.  Lately not as many, but, they are there.  I love them all of course, each as much as the last, but there are times for sure that I like one of them more.   

What, Mommy?  You can't admit that you like me better! 

To be fair, the older ones are getting more useful around the house.  Earning their keep so to speak.  Little things, you know, laundry. 

Vacuuming

See that above?  A working child sized vacuum cleaner.  We made it ourselves (well, my Dad did), and the kiddos love to run it.  They argue over whose turn it is and can suck up their own cheerios.  Best idea ever!  Am considering marketing them for Christmas time.  Wondering if they could be pitched to a toy company and patented. . .

Plus, there's the modeling.  I was seriously thinking a couple of weeks ago about how I could get my kids into modeling.  People tell me all the time that Maggie could do it.  So we've been experimenting just a little.  She's a natural, isn't she?  Goofball. 

I have a few more pictures I pulled but I am feeling out of funny or horrible stories.  The next two pictures are from the annual family reunion.  This year it rained.  I loved watching them run around and play, even if they were playing in the mud. 

We took the kiddos swimming, and as usual, they loved it.  I loved them sharing a raft, they really do get along so well sometimes.  Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale. . .

When we go to music class, there is a part where they all go to the blanket to listen to a book.  We have tried doing this at home, and sometimes, they sit there so nicely and listen to the book.  My Mom wanted to read them a story when we were there one night, and it was so cute.  I have no idea what Maggie looks so surprised about. 

And last but not least, Mia's two month photos.  I had a really bad time with lighting (we were doing them at night), and for some reason we couldn't get her to smile.  But, for the record, here she is!  She is smiling, giggling a little, holding her head up, cooing at us, and doing everything else she is supposed to do.  She was 9 pounds, 6 oz at her appointment which leaves her in the 25th percentile.  As the doctor has said, we don't make big babies.   

But aren't they cute?