To Harness or Not to Harness

To harness or not to harness?  Your children that is.  I have always considered myself to be an anti-harness-er (is that even a word?), however, my beautiful, adoring, completely insane 3 year old twin boys are quickly encouraging me to rethink that position.  Of course, the reason I am even considering a leash, I mean harness for my children, is MY own damn fault, that’s what sucks the most…

I am, on a fairly regular basis (10 times per day, but who’s counting) smacking myself on the head (better than their heads) for selling my perfectly good chicco double stroller in a recent garage sale for a mere $15.  FIFTEEN DOLLARS and I sold my sanity and to a Jehovah’s witness no less. 

I thought they were ready, I thought I was ready.  I am definitely wishing for a time machine to make a quick jet back to that eventful day when I thought it would be a great idea to sell my sanity.  Most people wish for a time machine for other memorable, life changing events in their lives, you know, like the birth of a child, but no, not me.  I just want my stroller back.

So what if they, at 38 pounds looked like giants strapped in that wonderful contraption.  So what if, when we were in stores, they would scream and cry and twist and turn, causing fellow shoppers to glare at me for having the nerve to ruin their otherwise peaceful shopping experience.  So what if I would longingly stare at other mother’s 3 year old little boys who would hold hands in the mall, thinking to myself, yes, I think I can do this, they will stay with me, they love me….

HA HA HA!  Jokes on you MOM!  Instead, even after the stern discussions prior to entering retail establishments, about staying with me, about how they will get hurt if they run away, about how I will give them WHATEVER they want, if they will just stay with me (maybe a little more of a begging versus stern discussion, but whatever), the moment we enter a store I get the shit eating grins and off they go to wreak whatever chaos they are able to wreak while I chase them all the while blindly throwing groceries/toiletries/vodka into my cart (not too surprising that the bill winds up being 4x times what I had anticipated thanks to my little distractions).  

Why, you might ask, do I not utilize the beautiful carts with cars attached or the ones with the little seats?   Because they are ALWAYS broken, the straps, that is.  I have had many a discussion with customer service personnel at various and sundry establishments regarding these lack of safety devices, only to be told (quite rudely) that there is nothing they can do.  But I digress.  Back to the one person pity party I am having regarding my lack of stroller…

So to harness or not to harness, that is the question?  Honestly, I just can’t see strapping one of those monkey backpacks to my kid and going out in public with a straight face.  So here’s to praying they don’t kill themselves or anyone else in their quest for independence at the grocery store. 

Oh, stroller, how I miss thee

Let me count the ways…

Are you F*@$ing kidding me?

Yep, those were the first words I uttered upon learning that I would be giving birth to my now 3 ½ year old beautiful twin boys, much to the dismay of my husband who promptly punched me in the arm the moment the dreaded F word came out of my mouth. 

“Like she’s never heard it before,”  was my quick witted response to the punch (which did NOT leave a mark, by the way, no need to worry) followed by, “Hey watch it, I AM pregnant with your CHILDREN, not ONE child but TWO children.  You better be nice to me.” 

Actually, I’m pretty sure, I used that line numerous times during my pregnancy, generally after the 16 weeks of morning sickness subsided and I was craving delicious goodness like fried fish and chips from Long John Silvers at 9:55 pm.  “I’m having TWO, you better be nice to me.”  Insert sickly sweet smile and eyelash batting or maybe bitchy nagging, I can’t seem to recall which tactic I used most of the time, it gets a little fuzzy.  Although I’m sure David will remember exactly which tactic was used the majority of the pregnancy.  But, you know, I was HAVING TWO.

So that’s what began this crazy foray into our journey of parenting.  I think that will be an amusing story to tell the turkeys later in their lives.  Hopefully, they won’t be as horrified as their daddy by their mommy’s use of the F word.  Maybe I should share the story when they are teenagers and just learning how to swear and think it is cool to sneak in bad word every now and then.  Then, maybe, just maybe they will think I am super cool for, like, a second.   Then, it will be back to mean old mom.  I think I need to start taking naked pictures to use as blackmail FOR SURE.

So anyhow, after the dreaded F word was uttered and I am stuttering and stammering around trying to figure out how the hell we were pregnant with twins, the ultrasound tech says, rather brilliantly, of course, “Sometimes TWINS HAPPEN.”  I’ve been using that line pretty regularly too for the past 4 years.

So fast forward through a pretty tough pregnancy, HELLP Syndrome which required an emergency C-section at 28 weeks, a 71 day NICU stay, a move across the country to sunny Mesa, AZ and here we are.

Twins happen!  That’s what this blog is about…the happenings and crazy life of mothering twins and some of the other stuff that is going on in our lives.  I’ve been sharing a lot of my fun turkey stories on facebook which is great but some of the stories I feel like elaborating a bit on and don’t want my million facebook friends to get stuck reading a novel as a status update, thus, the blog was born.  Enjoy!