grrr

I decided about a month ago to get active and put myself in some mommy groups. Now, I am a member of a couple (or more?) online groups and one local pay-per-year which we've only participated in once so far. Of course, NOW that I have set myself up for the stay-at-home mothers in activities of the year award, I am looking at possibly returning to work.

Having read some scathing commentary on motherhood in our anxiety producing era, I am also feeling very angry. Angry at the system. Angry at men. Angry at myself. Despite my education and years of independence, I believed that my choices in marriage and motherhood would be sooo different than every other poor, angry, disillusioned mom I heard and read about. I'm unique, after all. Talk about humble pie. I have my entire head buried in one right now, and it doesn't taste good.

Statistically On-Track

When I got married, I knew that statistically speaking, we had a whopping 50% chance of staying married. I figured we were erring on the positive side of that 50% but apparently I was blissfully ignorant. Just over 2 years and 2 kids later, we are already in what my mother describes a "broken marriage". Moreover, we fit neatly into the other stats on what tears relationships apart-finances, and something else I can't remember due to FINANCES.

I tried to create a budget. I don't shop like crazy. I didn't know we were gonna have twins! The cost of childcare is astronomical and does not merit my finding a job so I can contribute an extra hundred bucks while someone else raises my kids. They're not even old enough for pre-school for chrissake!!

I think we could cut lots of spending if we created a budget, as I originally planned. My fantasy of being immersed in the mother role while he 'handled' the monetary issues has exploded in my face. Now covered in the shards of debt reality, I will find a solution that will help me continue to stay at home with my babies.

Topless

I just said the most inane (well maybe not the most) thing to my son. " You're going to wear this shirt whether you want to or not". Well first of all he can't yet speak comprehensibly. Second, if he did want to, then he would-right? Finally, when did I become the shirt police? Does it really matter if he wants to remove all his clothing in the confines of our home? I think mommy needs a time-out.

Itchy

EEEEK!! Gabriella might have the chicken pox. Yesterday we went for their one year check-up. What a fiasco. The rash thing on her stomach left the pediatrician and the dermatologist perplexed and we were instructed to avoid other children to see "what develops". Today there are the same amount of red bumps but they are redder and look like pimples with whiteheads, ewww.

Well the good news is the doctor called and she doesn't have chicken pox. The bad news is they don't know what she has. Yuck. I hope it clears soon.

If Your Happy and You Know it

Jeez. Nobody napped or ate at the same time and it was non-stop mommy action all damn day. Thankfully, hubby has offered to put them to bed. I did go to my first mommy/baby group this morning, which the monkeys really enjoyed. Gabriella sat in the center of the song circle and clapped at the end as if we had all meant to sing just for her. What a princess. Yes, I sat in a song circle and sang catchy little tunes like the"ABC's" and "If Your Happy and You Know it", among others. I have to admit it was the highlight of my day. I really miss singing. And the kids were so cute. It must have inspired Princess G cause she sang (hummed) the rest of the day. Oh, and did sexy baby dance. Lots of hip swaying and pouty lips. Just like her mama.

more booze

I think I am still in new mommy shock. Being a stay at home mom is not for sissies. I am new to this whole wife/mother thing and the adjustment, well, I don't think I am adjusting well. In many ways I am like my 13 monthers-I have meltdowns, refuse to do certain things when they need to be done and clearly I am the doer of them (bathroom cleaning), and could really use a bottle most days. Preferably one with booze. I jest, xanax would be better. Which reminds me of a quick exchange I had with a group stroller mommies, one of whom relayed to me that she drank a lot more now that she had a kid (vigorous agreement from other mommies in group). It is so refreshing to know that I am not the only one frequently in need of escape. And yet I become morose at the thought of not seeing their sweet cheeks ( all four of them) for more than 8 hours. Aww there soooo cute! I have to go squeeze 'em right now...

Shameless

I love American Idol. I love watching other people quiver in front of the judging panel hoping to manifest their dreams. I am not completely without couth, as I despair when some of the seriously mentally ill are allowed to humiliate themselves. Yet I can't help but watch in disgust/fascination as they warble in earnest and with such sincerity I just want to give 'em a chance. Can't they branch out with this show, you know-like special Olympics. Then they could also have a show for older people like myself, who fantasize the entire program about what song snippet to sing and how to dress. Of course, I would not be able to watch this fascinating drama if it wasn't for dvr.

Beasties Rule

Anything goes around here. The beasties are napping, one in bed and one on the floor. It's carpeted. Frequently they both end up on the floor because that's just easier. Really, there is no telling them it's nap time or bed time for that matter. They're only 1, but their motto (they already have one) is "you're not the boss of me". So I just let them drop wherever they run out of steam. I like to think of it as creative parenting, or going with the flow. Apparently, I'm just here to dispense food and make sure the condo is covered with fun toys for them to throw around. I know my place.

Ball of Confusion

Okay I still cant get the bedtime thing down with the deuce. My husband is in the trenches as I type. I can hear the wails and piercing cries through the wall. I just can't deal right now. And yet I will inevitably go in against my better judgment, thus consistently reinforcing the idea that pitching a fit=mommy and daddy coming back. This bedtime thing sucks.

The Biggest LOSER

The other day I was rolling (literally, with the twins) into the gym and got suckered into the current contest"The Biggest Loser". I must be desperate for adult companionship because normally, my immediate response would be "no way". However, the very friendly lady who looked around my age was talking (!) to me and cooing over my babies so I guess I wanted our time together to last. In the back of my mind I was thinking, "yeah, I'm already the biggest loser" but I bit my tongue and put forth my best impersonation of a normal, happy person who must have many friends, and loves contests. Very different picture from the me who just left my house in the same pants I've been wearing for days because I never see anyone and infrequently speak with other adults besides my husband or mother and whose list of friends dwindled to practically zero since the marriage/kids thing. So she is signing me up and I am pretending that this is totally normal for me when she pulls out the hand-held body fat monitor and thrusts it in my hands right at the front counter(gasp!). Oh but it gets worse. Then she loudly announces that this will determine my body fat percentage as a nearby gym member looks up from his paper, and asks the young gentleman behind the desk to take over so she can finish her computer work. Unable to mask my horror, I quickly switched gears and became the real, shy, insecure me who absolutely does not want a man taking down any numbers that relate to my body size, or people at the front of the gym watching. Well! Apparently she was also fakin' it and became the exasperated, annoyed 'oh you are a pain in the ass lady' woman and continued to "help" me enter the friggin' contest. For the final torturous act, she trots me over to a log sheet, in front of the entire cardio room, where she suggests I can log my hours with an alias. Hello, I am mgm and I am already the biggest loser.

Hello, is there anybody out there?

Okay, I might as well just put it out there since it is totally obvious. I am clueless regarding the blogosphere and how everything works. Moreover, I can't tweak my pages to look all customized and fabulous or figure out how the hell to get all the cool links like the other moms. Every blog I come across has a gazillion links to other bloggers. So even on the internet there is friend competition, huh? Okay, this blog began due to my need to get things off my chest, self-help processing if you will. I wasn't even considering that someone might read it! And so far I don't believe anyone has...I think my counter is just logging my visits to see how my profile looks (yes and edit it obsessively). Suddenly I need to know somebody wants to read my heartfelt angst and find me charming, amusing, even witty. I dare to dream. Now that I see all the cool, hip, moms out in blog world I feel like the weird kid in the back of the class. I wanna be the cool, hip blog mom that gets linked! I guess I better work on my grammar and style. Oh the pic is of me, hubbie, and our newbie twins. I can't believe they're 1 already.

A new Day

After a decent nights sleep I am somewhat horrified by my previous post. Well, maybe horrified is a strong word. I am slightly embarrassed by my glumfest. I think I am usually a pleasant person. Denial? In my posting shame (post-shame? hah!) I will recount how stinkin' cute they can be.

We've removed the cages (rails) from the cribs. Last night I put the G's to bed by laying in Gabriella's crib with her till she dozed off then wrangling monkey boy Gavin, in the dark, to his crib. As we lay down I heard Gabriella get up from her crib then felt her climb over me and into Gavin's, wedging herself between us and immediately passing out. Totally adorable. What's even more amazing about this story is that there was no crying/screaming. Just the sound of Jazz 91.1 and snoring babies. Heaven.

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I'm okay, really. I just need to bitch, oh and how.

Well, we made it through the first year and on December 13 my babies turned 1!! So I have been told it gets easier-hah. Where are the people who told me this and what were they smoking (maybe I should try some)?Now my little monkeys are mobile, opinionated, and in need of constant entertainment. There's a lot of screaming/crying. Them, not me (mostly). At this "easier" stage, they still can't verbalize what they want or feel and let me tell you, Gabriella will peel the paint off the neighbors walls with her shrill, ear-piercing attempts to "communicate". I keep telling my husband that I should start liquid therapy but he always calls my bluff cause after about three sips of chardonnay I'm ready for bed.

****pause in typing so that I can pry childs new front teeth out of my leg (screaming, mine)****

I am madly in love with my little screamers, I just don't think I am mentally equipped to deal with the challenges I am facing. For example, the frequent scream fest. Did I mention I can't handle the screaming/crying?

****pause to attempt pickup of two screaming children-one seems to have fallen, the other is pissed I removed my magazine from his little claws****

After a mini(!) nervous breakdown about 2 months ago (what day is it?) my magic pill doc suggested I might "get some support". Well l I tried. While still in the delusional glow of early (very early, the glow part disappeared quickfast) pregancy I researched and joined a local twins group. Unfortunately, when it was time to reap the rewards of my yearly membership fee I was unable to join the damn yahoo group for still unknown reasons and recieved invites to childless(!!!) EVENING events. Okay. So I am still angry. I don't have a nanny, close relatives on a regular basis, or the dough for babycare times 2. Furthermore, I am not awake in the "evening"-I am trying to get some damn sleep. So the twins group thing didn't work out.