When you’re twinning

Just celebrated the twins 2nd birthday. We tried to go big since we were homeless for their first. The morning started pretty normal diaper changes, demands for oatmeal, and bippys(sippy cups). After satisfying the demands of my tiny bosses, I decided to attempt to use the bathroom alone, which is now strange its been eight years since I was allowed to potty unsupervised. All of a sudden I heard a loud crashing sound! Going through all of the scenarios in my head, tv and stand, maybe they climbed up and knocked everything off the counter or a cabinet. I was sure the boys had created a big surprise for me. I hurried out of the bathroom to find the kitchen ceiling on the floor and countertop. So many mixed emotions, mostly grateful that everyone had just left the room and no one was hurt. Ironically we bought this house on their first birthday, as is. In our situation, we purchased the most livable abandoned house we could afford. It has been a series of nightmares and a confirmation that I should not adult under pressure or without a more adulty adult to adult with me. Unfortunately, I am the adultiest adult available, leading my heard by mostly bad choices. So, here I am standing in the middle of my poor judgment. No birthday cake, invites for 39 people with no RSVPs, and half the kitchen ceiling was hanging and on the floor. Party will be outside, the grocery store has cake, let’s rock this. Pool, trampoline, swing set, and a new sandbox all ready to be invaded by lots of kids. No one showed. Apparently, birthday parties aren’t a thing anymore. Lucky for us we are a large family and our own party. My father came, and a couple of kids from down the street came to swim and have cake, I’ll call it a success. One twin loves the pool, and one twin doesn’t for him; it was all about the sandbox. Now the battle is keeping them from escaping without supervision to the yard. Thing 2 is going through a streaking stage. That’s right “don’t look Ethel” boogitty boogitty he’s running wild every chance he gets, no matter where he is. Thing 1 is the reporter of what his siblings do, its a lot like Lassie, and I get a direction and a name with some babbling and a keyword like butt butt. Of course, the streak has discovered his weewee, so he now pees on everything he wants to aim at. Lord help me. With that comes the pooping on the floor. Why is potty training boys like housebreaking a dog? I didn’t have these issues with my daughter. My oldest boy went through a dog phase also. Of course, when naked baby appears naked baby is put on the potty, angry screaming and not interested proceeds to get down remove freshly applied pull up and poop on my rug. We may have had a breakthrough today as both peed in the potty. Fingers crossed they have learned poop goes in the potty and not in the toy box and vise versa. I love all my children, but they drive me to a need for wine I didn’t know existed.

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