Oh, What a Night!

My wonderful mother is a wonderful cheerleader (this is historically accurate and also a good metaphor).  The other day when I sent her this email, she said I should get back to writing a blog, so I took the names out and am sharing it with the world at large.  I know you'll enjoy it, so sit back and relax and start reading about a terrible, terrible night I had last week:

Oh, what a night.  EB had a cold yesterday and an earache when I got home at 6:00.  I called the doctor who said to put a wet washrag over the ear; maybe it was just from sinus pressure and not an infection.  I gave her all kinds of medicine, including homeopathic cough medicine and the hard stuff that you aren't supposed to give to children under 4.  (Don't tell).  And acetominifin (sp??!!!).  We had a date to go to PM and CM's house and I asked if she still wanted to go.  She said yes; she wanted to show CM her ear.

Of course when we got there the first thing we saw, as is becoming customary, is PM up on top of CM's minivan.  They get home and just stay there.  CM monitors and PM waits on the top of the car for us.  He wants to show AB and EB what he can do.  Then my girls get on the top of the car, we remind them 1) not to jump, and 2) this is a trick for CM'S CAR ONLY.  NEVER ANY OTHER CAR.  Then they get down and go inside. 

The first thing they did was go downstairs to the basement where CM has an old porch swing hung up.  So strange.  They sit on it and rock it back and forth sideways and bang it into an old dresser (also strange).  I told CM that while I could say lots of things about him that start, "CM is the only person I know who [fill in the blank]" including, "CM is the only person I know who lets the kids ram a swing into a dresser over and over."  Then we went upstairs to get dinner started (always a $2.50 or $1.50 sale) frozen pizza.  The kids went outside and wanted to play with an orange rope.  The orange rope was the extension cord connecting the electric lawnmower to the socket on the outside of the house.  I said that is not a good rope to play with.  And then CM said that it would be if we unplugged both ends.  So he and EB did.  Then the kids all stood on the porch with sections of extension cord that they were hanging over the railing and trying to swing like lasos.  They kind of did it.  AB's was the best, because she has spent the most time watching the "Ride 'Em Cowboy" musical number from the Elmo Wild West show.  I think that at some point PM got hit in the head.  He definitely kicked over my plastic wine glass, which was good because I really didn't need a second glass of wine.  Things were already crazy enough.

Then last night when we came home I gave EB all of her tons of different medicine plus a melatonin pill to help her sleep (I do this when there doesn't seem to be any hope of them going to sleep on their own) and propped her up with lots of pillows.  Then proceeded what I can only call musical beds.  Every hour or two someone woke up and needed something.  If it wasn't EB with her ailments it was AB because she was having a bad dream.  I personally slept with EB in her bed, with AB in her bed, with both of them (separately) in my bed, and by myself on the couch, oh, and in EB's bed without EB.  AB slept in her own bed with and without me, and in my bed with and without me.  EB slept in her own bed with and without me, and in my bed with or without me.  When it looked like both girls wanted to sleep in my bed with me, I was trying to figure out where exactly I would be lying when AB announced that she wanted to go back to her own bed (she'd been in my bed alone for a long time) so that worked out well.  I think we all took our final positions at 4:00 a.m. when my alarm went off to wake me up to do the translation that I'd been too tired to do last night.  EB was alone in my bed at that point.  I was on the couch.  She started yelling, and I had to go in and turn off the alarm and comfort her.  Of course she asked for more milk, and her sippy cup was completely and utterly lost by that time, so I found a slightly less desirable one in the kitchen, where I ran into the cat, who had had enough of this charade and thought that enough was enough.  If I was going to keep getting up, I could damn well feed her too!  So I did.  And then I brought the second cup of milk back to EB, who was of course alseep again.  I got in bed beside her and she woke up enough to grab the cold sippy cup and settle it down on my previously warm arm.  And that's how we found ourselves at 8:30 when AB wandered in.

The first thing I asked EB was, "Cómo están tus oidos?" and she smiled and rolled over.  And then I said it in English: "How are your ears?  Do they hurt?"  This was a CRUCIAL question because if they hurt, then I'd have to take her to the doctor in the morning and would have no time to do said translation that was due at noon Argentina time (11:00).  When she finally got around to answering, her with all of her clothing and shoes on, plus a tutu, and a band-aid on her face in front of both ears, she said, "No."  Hooray!  That she feels well -- whatever.  That this works out okay for my scheduling -- hooray!

So once we were all up and out, I got my translation done with 19 minutes to spare and now it seems like a good day to look at fabric online.  And then take a nap.

It was the Best of Times, It was the Worst of Times

 A little something I wrote up a month or two ago about one very long day.

Best (Triumphs)	Worst (Tragedies)
We set out on a fun adventure to the petting zoo, where we were going to meet eight of our little twins friends and their four mommies.	We left during rush hour, driving through Tyson’s Corner, a well-known traffic jam hub.  The 14 mile trip took an hour and 15 minutes.
The girls are getting really good at identifying red and green traffic lights and knowing what each means.  Verde means “go” and roja means “párate” [stop].	They were tremendously frustrated that we were not going when the light turned green, or if we were, that we were not going fast.  I explained that I couldn’t go faster because there were cars in front of me.
EB had a good idea: “I too loud the cars, ‘MORE FASTER!’” [“too loud” = “yell”].  Cute little idea until she started yelling in the small, closed car,	“MORE FASTER!  MORE FASTER!”  And she meant it.
Meanwhile, AB was keeping track of where we were in relation to all the other roads, overpasses, underpasses, and spaghetti loops of the urban highway system.  She would periodically report, “We’re REALLY UP!” or “We’re REALLY DOWN!”
At one point we were on what seemed to be truly solid ground, but in front of us was a bridge under which another road passed.  AB (correctly) observed, “We’re really up,” and EB (also correctly) disagreed.	But EB saw no room for dissent.  She screamed, “No, AB!  Not really up!”  If she had known any curse words, she would have used them.
Before we had left the house, AB declared herself a big girl and decided that she did not need or want to take her baby panda bear stuffed animal finger puppet with her,	until we were half way there.  Then she wanted it.  In part this was because
EB had her baby raccoon stuffed animal finger puppet.	I noticed in my side mirror that EB was holding the raccoon out the window.  By this time we were really moving quickly.  I told her that the raccoon needed to be inside the car.  She cried but did it.
Since I am a nice mother, I told her she could put her hand out the window, just not the toy.  Later I figured out that the raccoon had been “flying.”  Awwww: so cute.	Anyway, EB insisted that I keep her window open, even though AB was shivering and repeating in a convincing whine, “too windy, too windy.”
I had been super organized and packed into my backpack diaper bag everything we needed for the trip	except jackets.
AB kept warm wearing my aerobics pants around her shoulders until we got to the zoo and saw the Klancniks there, with two Klancnik-sized pink jackets, which they lent us and we squeezed into.
Unlike our friends, it was free for us to get in because	I had already bought season passes for a total of $150.
The passes are the girls’ first photo ID.  AB’s and my photos, taken by a little camera hooked up to a cash register, are virtually identical.  I love it, though	the revelation that AB looks like me could have been had for cheaper.
Once inside, we paid $5 for pellets of general-purpose plant-based animal food.	We ran out immediately, especially after the goat took the cup out of EB’s hand and tipped it to pour down over his face.  AB didn’t have a chance to both get brave and then to give the animals any food.
There was plenty of gravel in the walk-ways, so she filled up the cup with little rocks and poured it into the cage for the chickens, ducks, and turtles.  They didn’t seem to mind, nor did they eat the gravel and choke.  AB was very happy and we didn’t have to spend any more money.	On food, anyway.
EB was thrilled to cock-a-doodle-doo to the rooster.	The rooster did not cock-a-doodle-doo back.  Furthermore, a chicken bit EB’s finger.  It did not break the skin but it made a dent.
EB was thrilled to say hello to the parrot.	The parrot did not claw-wave at her like he did last time, which brought her to tears just as surely as it would a middle school girl who got snubbed in the cafeteria.
EB was still happy enough to sing a new verse of “Old MacDonald Had a Farm” each time we saw a new animal.
We had a snack.  One of the best parts of the food I brought was a bag of cut-up cubes of cheese.  AB enjoyed these until	EB spilled them all out onto the ground
except for two, which AB ate.	EB ate two from the ground.  While I don’t usually discourage food-on-ground eating, I think twice at zoos.
But since I didn’t have much more filling besides the cheese, I just pretended not to notice that EB had eaten off the duck-poop ground, and was glad that the girls didn’t fight over the last two pieces in the bag.
While we were eating, MK explained to all the kids that the ducks were having a party	but what was really happening was that three boy ducks were gang-raping a girl duck.
	EB was sad not to be able to get up close and touch a duck
so we went down to the lake where there were lots of ducks	that were all inside a fence and therefore not touchable.
A beautiful, huge swan came up to see us	and threatened EB.  It reminded us all that pretty is as pretty does.
The girls were very excited to buy 50 cents worth of food pellets for the animals at a gumball machine by the llama’s area	till the llama poked his head around the machine and scared the life out of AB, not to mention making it hard for us to claim our second 25 cents worth of food.
A Canada goose came up to EB but fortunately it did not bite her or otherwise intimidate her.  It was as tall as EB was.  They just looked at each other.  EB did not offer up one of her fingers this time.
We went on the safari wagon ride and EB learned how to say “avestruz,” which means “ostrich.”	It wasn’t an ostrich.
EB loves pony rides and I had promised her one and bought a ticket.  AB hates pony rides and so after having learned my lesson the first five times a pony ride was presented, I didn’t buy her a ticket.	AB decided she wanted a pony ride.
Wonderful friends MK and KBR said they were sure that between their two sets of twins, not everyone would want to use his or her ticket, so I could have it.	KR(2), KR, Sara, and AK all wanted to go on the pony ride.
While I watched EB go on the pony ride, MK ran and got me another ticket for AB, who was running and hopping back and forth in front of the pony gate like a dog that thought it was about to go for a walk.	As with the dogs and the walks, it took painfully long for the time to come.
	It was even longer than our wait for the bathroom had been when we had to wait for all the field trip 2nd graders to use the bathroom before brave little EB,
who nevertheless did not have an accident,	and also did not have any toilet paper to reward her with a job well done.
I promised the kids that at the end of the zoo they could get a treat, and they chose Spongebob Square Pants ice cream bars.	Spongebob Square Pants ice cream bars are clearly not intended for children.  They melt really quickly and stain faces and hands red and yellow, even after the faces and hands are washed off.
Fortunately I had two old hand towels in the glove compartment: one for wiping off the windshield, and one that we got in SK’s cat carrier when she came home from the vet.  I used those on the girls as lap napkins.  It was perfect.
Because I am the perfect mother, on the way home when AB asked for milk, I handed it to her in her purple bottle as if by magic.  When she asked for a refill, I did it while driving and then	when I turned around to give it to her, the open milk carton poured between the center console and the passenger seat.
	I cursed.
The girls did not curse.  They just responded, loudly, “What’s happening?!” (AB) and “Wha doing?!” (EB).
Fortunately the girls were finished with the ice cream bars so I was able to sop up the milk from some of the surfaces and add a nice red and yellow shine to the places I wiped.	The places I couldn’t wipe up will blossom into a terrible smell of rotten milk, which smells like death when the weather gets warm.
	While I was cleaning up (having pulled into a used car lot with tantalizing helium balloons all around us), I noticed that EB had painted on the inside of her window with lipgloss.  Shiny.
We got home and took a nap.	They didn’t sleep.
I did.
After naptime I had the good idea to go to McDonald’s Play Place .  (AB called it, “Old MacDonald’s Play Place ” because she is adorable).  It offered Mommy-energy-free entertainment for the girls and food that I wouldn’t have to cook.	I don’t think I have to list here the downsides of having McDonald’s provide my toddlers’ entertainment and nutrition.
They had a great time running around and climbing in the tunnels up at the ceiling.  AB was braver than ever and was not daunted at all by all the big kids zooming around her.  In fact, she sidled up to a few little girls to admire their outfits.  It was great	until EB got stuck.  She was afraid to climb down from a certain step up by the ceiling and was thus enclosed in what she must have considered her plexiglass tomb.
AB loves and looks after her little sister and tried to help by guiding EB’s foot the last 2 inches it needed to go to get to the next step,	but to EB that felt like AB was yanking her to her impending death, and she fought it tooth and nail.
She did not actually use any teeth or nails.
Some other moms eventually got their big kids’ attention to try to help the little stuck girl	but I’m not sure the big kids had all their mental faculties.
By the time the big kids got around to looking for the little stuck girl, she had hopped down and scampered down a long tube like a happy prairie dog.	When the girls finally came down they lobbied hard for some ice cream.
I took them into the restaurant area of McDonald’s, and when I turned around,	AB was sobbing and her face was covered with blood.  She had gotten smacked in the nose by the closing door.
Two employees and I saw her at the same time and they went to go get some napkins and handiwipes.  I sat down in the middle of the floor and held her with a napkin on her nose and she calmed down.  The nosebleed stopped pretty quickly.
I felt awesome that even in the face of peril, I could still speak perfect Spanish to the workers and manager.  I asked for some “helado” for AB.	I meant “hielo.”  Ice, not ice cream.
I corrected myself and asked for ice, which they have on quick hand because it is a restaurant.
When AB was calm and not bleeding any more, I stood up and looked down at my new, homemade dress.	It had blood all over it.  I flashed to pictures of Jackie Kennedy, who wore her blood-stained dress all day.
But this blood did not involve an assassination, so I counted my blessings.
The workers brought us an ice cream cone for AB.	It was melted.  They had probably prepared it when I told them, in the heat of the moment, that I needed ice cream.
Fortunately, the drippier it is, the more legitimate it is for Mommy to lick off all the parts that are in danger of dripping.	And then I had to buy EB an ice cream with my own money, since she hadn’t been bloodied.
As they ate their ice cream and chatted, they fell in love with some balloons tied on chairs, marking a party area.	EB tore one off the chair that it was attached to.
I let her keep it.  I tore one off the other chair for AB.  Nobody dared to question us.
We sat at what AB called a big girl table (tall table on stools) and as I gave my pertinent data to the McDonald’s insurance person on the phone, I gave my name as “K--------.”	EB interrupted me, loudly, to insist that my name was not K--------; it was KB.  HER name was EK---------B.  She was offended and surprised how dense I was.
We left.  With balloons.  AB hopped from one foot to the other, singing, and clutching her prize,	essentially ignoring me as we went out into the parking lot.
She is an extremely independent child when it comes to leaving buildings.	She is an extremely independent child when it comes to walking into parking lots.
When we got home, I reminded the girls to hold on tight to their balloons so they didn’t blow away.	EB was very upset that her balloon would not take her flying.  She jumped up several times, the balloon did nothing and she just landed back on the ground.
AB had no illusions about her balloon.	She also had no grip on her balloon.  It flew away.
	I let slip a surly, low-pitched “Jesus!” and the girls chimed in with cheerful, high-pitched, “Jesus! Jesus!”-es.
It got caught high in the trees in front of the group of Salvadoran men neighbors, who were all hanging out in the driveway in front of their building, fixing a car.  Another friend of theirs drove by in a white utility van with some kind of rack on top.  They gestured for him to pull into the driveway, and one guy named José (who had helped fix Mom’s car once; not the only “José”) got up on tiptoe on the roof rack and pulled down the tree branches gingerly, until he was able to reach AB’s balloon string.  He hopped to the ground and handed it to her.  I shreiked, “Mi heroe!” and the girls whispered, “gracias.”	As soon as we got inside, the balloon popped.
AB didn’t care.  She played with the string, cutting it into tiny little pieces.	The little pieces fell like drops of noseblood on the carpet.  “Make a mess!” she exclaimed, proudly, looking around to examine her work.
EB drew on the remaining balloon with a marker.	While EB was playing with the remaining balloon, she peed on the floor.
Both girls agreed to take an immediate bath, even though it was only 7:00. When I opened the cabinet under the sink to get out a new washrag, they saw a container of bath color pellets with Elmo’s likeness on the label.  They had to have them.  I gave one a red pellet and one a yellow pellet.  They watched them dissolve and eventually form orange water.	And then they insisted on more.  Blue.  Red.  Yellow.  Blue.  Yellow.  Red.  There were about 10 pellets in all, which was the maximum the label said should be used.  By the time they finished coloring their water, it was pitch black.
	And then I read the rest of the label: rinse tub and body after use.  What?  After using this bathtime product?
	Not pausing to consider this at all, they lept out of the bathtub with their unrinsed and sopping bodies, exclaiming, “clean and shiny!” and tracked black water all over the carpet.
	It probably goes without saying that no rinsing occurred.
By 8:00 EB was in bed and AB was asleep on a chair in the living room.
By 8:15 I was reading a The Quilting Arts magazine in my own bed, and by 8:30 I was asleep.	At 3:00 I woke up suddenly and realized that the girls had had ice cream twice in one day.
I let it go.