Embarassing!

Today I took my three to the Y to go swimming since they just reopened the pool. We were having a fine time. Owen was swimming around throwing his Spiderman diving sticks. Blake and Sadie found out quickly that the newly painted pool was too slippery to walk on, so Mommy did a lot (I mean a whole lot!) of scooping up babies and moving them to a shallower area. It's funny that it's easier to walk around the deep end holding both of them than it is to try to let them play in the shallow end.

All was fine for 45 minutes, although I know at times I looked like I had too many kids to juggle. I really was fine. Sadie started to throw a fit because she wanted to get out at the side and crawl away, which I wouldn't let her do. It had been a long enough swim, so I told Owen it was time to get out. He was in deeper water and started to whine about leaving. I tried to tell him to swim to me so I could talk to him, but he didn't want to leave his dive stick out there in the middle.

So...He starts to have a temper tantrum while swimming in water above his head. I call out to him to swim to the side first, and when the lifeguard hears me, he jumps into action. I know Owen and his swimming abilities. He can swim a lap independently. He had been getting his dive sticks off of the bottom of 4 1/2 feet of water. He can dolphin kick across the pool. He was not a swimmer in distress. As soon as his face went under, he would have just swam the 3 feet to the side and continued crying about the dive stick. BUT, the lifeguard wasn't listening to me when I said that he wasn't drowning. He jumped in. Almost on top of a little boy with significant disabilities and his adults.

Having been a lifeguard for 10 years, it is embarassing to me that someone jumped in to rescue my son. It's embarassing that the lifeguard must have been looking at me like some mother who didn't know enough about water safety to keep her kids out of danger. As soon as he got to the side (all of 3 seconds later), he cried to the lifeguard that he didn't want to leave his dive stick where someone else would take it. By this time, I had been able to pick it up with my toes and went over to apologize to the guy who no longer had a nice dry shirt to sit in for the rest of his rotation. I also made Owen thank him and apologize for throwing a fit that made the lifeguard think he needed saving. I wonder what will go through that guy's head when we show up again later this week.

Just one more thing. Owen, should he ever read this when he is older, will be mortified, but I was embarassed enough for us both today when it happened. I'm sharing. While changing out of our wet suits, I was in the shower stall area of the family locker room while Owen got dressed on the other side of the baby stroller. I hear, "Look Blake, I can just hang my goggles on my weiner!" And that is exactly what he was demonstrating for his brother. Strange, but not a huge deal. I gave him a "stop that" and a "hurry up" and eventually we made it out of the locker room. The kicker is while passing the front desk, Owen says quite loudly, "My weiner is itching! It's allergic to goggles. You should only hang goggles on your weiner when you're a grown up and not allergic." Yep, we got some looks.

Owenisms Part 2

While playing I Spy, Owen says, "I spy with my little eye, something that is blowy uppy....your booty!" He was not trying to be funny either. Well, there's some motivation to get to the Y.

"Will the babies talk in Spanish or English?"

While at Target: "Mom, how many times do I have to tell you? I told you 8 times I wanted to go to the toy area." He gives me the same look I give him.

"Owen, we are going to get the other things we need first. If you whine one more time, we won't go to the toy area at all." We continue shopping for 30 seconds.

"Okay, I'm not whining. Since I didn't whine, can we go to the toy area now?"

To anyone who will listen: "Space just keeps going and going." What a conversation starter. This fact absolutely amazes him. He can't get over it.

Anytime he wants to comfort a crying baby: "Awww. It's okay. You're not by yourself."

All day, he sings this song: "Blakey the cakey, cakey penguin!!" I have no idea. There are variations. "Sadie the Janie, lady penguin!!" "Mommy the lommy, lommy penguin!!"

Things I will never get tired of hearing him say even though he says them constantly:
"I just love you, Mom."
"I need a hug."
"I'm so cold." and "Will you warm me up?" both of which mean 'Give me a hug.'
"Can I have some chocolate-milk-so-I-can-drink-the-chocolate-milk-part?"

Sadie's Games

My baby sure knows how to keep herself entertained. Here are Sadie's top 11 games:
1. Sit on mom's lap. When someone else wants to, throw a fit. When mom has to do something, scream. Pretend like you are not paying attention, but if Mom plays with Blake or Owen, immediately regain your seat on her lap. If anyone tries to share her lap, push them off.
2. Whatever Blake is playing with, take it just to see what he does. When he plays with something else, take that.
3. When you're wet and slippery in the tub, flop on your belly and ride the back side of the tub like a water slide.
4. Squish every goldfish cracker with your thumb before you eat it.
5. Put things on Blake's tray. Take them off. Put things on Blake's tray. Take them off. Put things on Blake's tray. Take them off. Repeat.
6. Dump out your Cheerios. One by one put them back in the bowl. Dump again.
7. Gather shoes. Wear them on your hands and crawl. Set lots of them in your lap. When mom is not looking, chew on them.
8. What ever you're holding, hand it to someone else and say, "Da doo." Expect for it to be handed back and say, "Ada doe." Throw things on the floor and say, "Uh oh."
9. Cover your ears with your hands. Babble in a sing song voice. Uncover, cover, uncover, cover. (This one better not be an ear infection.)
10. Put your finger on people's noses and expect them to either say "Nose" or "Honk". Laugh, laugh, laugh.

11. Find 2-4 toys that make noise or play songs. Keep them all making noise at the same time for as long as you can.

My new path?

I started teaching Eng 101 at USI. It's just Wednesday nights. I figured it would be an excuse to get out of the house and talk to adults about something other than kids. It gave us a little extra money, and gives me a really nice resume booster. I've only taught two classes, but so far I really like it.

I've been thinking about adjusting the direction of my career basically since I started it. I like teaching, but I've always felt like it wasn't what I was going to do for 30 years. Eight years was enough I think. At least eight years of sixth-grade language arts is enough. I got my master's in educational leadership because I was really feeling a drive to move toward a curriculum advisor type of position. Then with the twins coming along when they did, I've been given the chance to really step back and think about what I want to do. I still haven't figured it out. I know that's crazy. I'm 30. I should have a plan set in stone by now, but I don't. This experiment with Eng 101 is a chance to dip my toes in the professor pool. Maybe?

It's kind of funny though because my old habits are kicking in. During my first class, I had such an urge to walk around the room and glance at my students' papers to make sure they were staying on task. I caught myself four times peeking out the door as if I was on hallway duty or had to check to make sure no foolishness was going on in the bathroom. It's an adjustment, but in a very welcomed way. I have 4 students who are older than me, and it's funny how even their age can make me feel like I'm under-qualified to be a professor. I'm slightly intimidated really, but I know I can do a good job. We'll see.

This and that about Blake

Blake will climb on anything. Toes peeking through the baby gate, on top of toys, his sister, caught him with his chest pulled on top of this crib railing today (it's already been lowered!).

Blake will eat anything. His favorites right now are blueberries by the ton and celery. He also enjoys baby wipes, cardboard, mulch, playground tire "mulch", cat fur, and things that fall out of the dustbuster when he shakes it.

I laugh at Blake every time he squishes up his face and sniffs in and out. He grins through his pucker. It is just about the cutest thing ever.

Blake has a sixth sense about what he should not touch, and he feels driven to touch it. Outlets, glasses of milk on the end table, and DVR buttons are in danger when he's around.

The Tale of Sadie and the $46 Shoes.

After a chilly, baby-shoeless August (?????) morning at Scales Lake for an outing with the Moms of Multiples group, I decided that my next mission was to buy some shoes for my babies' tootsies. They had outgrown their crib shoes that they hardly wore, and since they are walking now, it was time to buy some comfy shoes they could wear outside and around town.



I went to Stride Rite because I cannot figure out what size shoes to put on babies and wanted to know for sure. There were only two people in the store: a cross looking lady and a kind older man who waved at the babies when we first walked in. Can you guess who I asked to help? Sadie was the first out of the stroller, sized, and put back. She threw such a fuss about being back in her seat that the man told me it was fine to let her cruise around the little store while we took care of Blake. She did, and she knocked quite a few pairs of shoes off the shelves. When he had our measurements and knew what style to look for, he went to the back for quite some time then came back with 10 pairs or so.

This time when he sat down, Sadie went right over to him and put her hands up as if she was asking to be picked up. He was delighted and plopped her on his lap as he put 5 different pairs on her feet, acting all great-grandpa-ish. I didn't really think it was necessary to try on so many shoes because, honestly, I was not planning on actually buying ANY there. Those shoes are not in our budget. The last time I spent that much money on a pair of shoes for myself was a couple of years ago when I bought my tennis shoes I still wear. Babies grow out of shoes too quickly to invest that much in them. I knew I could find some online later; I just needed to know what size. But, she was having such a nice time with all the shoes (they're her thing), and the salesman was enjoying her company, so que sera sera.

A little later, Sadie was still on his lap as we figured out what shoes worked best for Blake. I knew how much the shoes were, but I needed a way out of the situation, so I asked. The man said, "These here are $42, but they're half off." Hmmm. Well, I wasn't going to buy $42 shoes, but for a first pair of good walking shoes, I could rationalize $21. I told him we'd take them.

Right then, Owen announces that he has to poop. Right then. Hurry. It's starting to come out. I'm mortified. We've been working on making these announcements in more subtle ways, but apparently he forgot. We're led to the back room, and when we return the man already has up rung up. The total is nearly $80, and I know that this won't fly with my pocketbook or with Tim. I only wanted to buy Blake's shoes, but how could I say that to the sweet man who spent so much time with us and took such a liking to Sadie? How could I let her be Shoeless Jane leaving that store? So before I paid, I asked if it would be possible to return the shoes if my husband had a problem with how much I spent. He said I could, so I paid for them intending to return them in a couple of days. No harm done.

A couple of days later, I try to return them, and an elderly woman is the only salesperson in the store. She tells me that I can't. I tell her that I can. She tells me that I will only get $21 for them. No, they were the $46 pair. She says, "Yes, but our policy is that when you are returning them, you only get half the price back."

Now, I am not in the habit of fighting old ladies, but I was pretty annoyed. Then the cross woman from before walks in from her lunch break. "She's the manager. She's who you need to talk to." Well, turns out it was a buy one, get one 1/2 off sale. I did not know that. If I did know that, I wouldn't have bought any shoes. I'm certainly not going to return them for half price. There you have it, Sadie finagled $46 shoes. And she LOVES them!


They are pretty cute though!

These are Blake's 1/2 price pair. Oh! Forgot to say, when I got home after the first trip, I got online and bought Sadie 3 pairs on ebay, brand new for a total of $31. All Stride Rite: brown, black, and tennies. So, she actually has 4 pairs that she will outgrow in no time.

My Grandma Liles must be laughing.

My Grandma Liles, who passed away three years ago, had three children spaced just like mine: a boy who was 3 when boy/girl twins came along. I think about her often while managing day to day life now, and wish for her advice or at least her accounts of what it was like for her. (I know I have the advantage of an easily foldable double stroller and double-seated carts at Sam's Club.)



In my eyes, she was pretty easy going and loved a good joke. Boy did she pull one on me last night. Here and there throughout my life, I have heard the recounting of my Uncle Mike's frozen pea incident. When he was young (I don't remember how young) he shoved quite a few frozen peas up his nose. They couldn't get them out at home, and had to throw the three kids in the car and head for the emergency room. Well, last night, the kids and I were having a casual dinner when I looked over at Blake, Uncle Mike's counterpart, who had a little green ball shoved half way up his left nostril, a hazard of his sniffing habit from my earlier post I guess. My immediate thought? Grandma put him up to this.

I flicked that little booger out pretty easily and considered the crisis averted. I chuckled to myself and went back to dining. But, Blake kept rubbing his nose. He kept squinting his eyes and half gagging. I got a little worried and probably jumped to conclusions based on Mike's story.

Picture me with a flashlight trying to see up Blake's nose in search of lost peas. I'd like to point out that as a rule, I try to stay out of reach of the grubby self-feeding hands of twins because I don't particularly like having squished bits of vegetable soup and scrambled eggs in my hair. Thankfully, there were no more peas. Blake was just shaking it off I guess, like after a good sneeze. I'm sure Grandma had a good laugh just like she probably did when Mike's peas thawed and fell out on their own.