Monday, July 24, 2006


It was a busy day after a busy weekend. In the battle between home and work committments, home won by a narrow margin today. Yesterday was a much nicer balance in which lots of work was accomplished but also some canning and some hanging out with the kids. Today I got Important Work Things done--but quit at 1:30 because Max had a piano lesson at 2:15 and because I haven't done a proper grocery trip in over a month. And we've been out of everything (hence Chris' dog shampoo post last week). This morning I put the last roll of toilet paper in the bathroom and that sort of decided things. So after Max's piano lesson I came home and Max and I put together a meal plan and a grocery list and then I grabbed the twins and we went grocery shopping.

I almost always grocery shop with all three boys even though Chris is at home to watch some of them because it is considered an Outing and my boys are normally considered Very Well Behaved in Public Places. But in this case I'd lost track of the time. I'd lost track of the time so completely that it didn't even occur to me that the reason that the twins were being hooligans instead of their normal charming selves was because they were starving and getting tired. It was 7 pm and they'd only had a peanut butter sandwich for lunch. But I thought it was maybe 5 pm and thought that they'd just lost their little preschool minds (which just goes to show you that the obvious can occasionally completely escape me). It wasn't until we got into the truck for the ride home that I saw it was 8pm and just completely couldn't believe it.

Chris unpacked the truck while I started putting the several hundred dollars worth of groceries and toilet cleaning and mouse-catching agents away and I remarked that as rediculous as it seemed, I really wanted to order pizza because it would probably get here before I could get the last bag unpacked. Chris, being the good enabler, made the phone call. Indeed, the pizza arrived before I got the last bag unpacked. But it was the right call. We were all better people after having eaten.

Still, the twins really ARE a handful when they're both wild and now I'm completely shot for energy and my work to-do list for tonight now all has an arrow pointing at tomorrow.

I have to confess, the twins are so consistently easy-going that it's really kind of interesting when they get "out of hand." Here's what I have observed lately:

*When Milo gets very hungry he gets hyper. His speech speeds way up and he can't stop moving and he doesn't hear a thing you say. But if you pick him up and hold him to you he fights it for a moment or two and then sinks into you and clings gratefully and stops moving long enough to tell you that he's REALLY REALLY hungry. (Which normally I totally honor, but tonight, like I said, I had no CLUE how far past dinner time we were and I thought they could just hold on another half hour . . .)
*When Ben gets very hungry he gets irritable and veeerrrrrry whiney. And tearful. And dramatic. And it is ALLLLLL about him. And it is ALLLLLL awful. And meeeelllllltdooooown.

But I am still incredibly, unbelievably lucky because not one of my kids has ever, ever had a temper tantrum in a public area. Ben and Milo had them when they were two--but only ever late at night and at home. In public, they're like two kids under contract to Disney. It's all smiles and waves and offers to sign autographs. Except tonight when they didn't give a rip and just wanted me to know that they needed THAT box of macaroni RIGHT THERE. Only, you know, that didn't tip me off tonight either.

Sheesh. Maybe I should lay off the benedryl a bit.

Chris and I were sort of slackjawed this evening as we discussed how unbelievably fast this summer is speeding by. The back-to-school supplies are on the shelf at Target (I said that with the French accent, Risha), football fittings are Wednesday, there are less than two weeks left to the swim season, and six weeks from tomorrow the boys will all have school. It will be back to piano twice a week and football three nights a week and games everytime I turn around. There will be tomatoes to can and maybe a night when we can sleep without fans running in every room. There will be homework for the big boy and new teacher names to learn for the little boys and notes home every other week asking for money for something.

So even though we're on the cusp of August--a month I tend to dislike for the heat and the humidity (and which, ironically, is forcast to start out with a week cooler than any day in July) and the general "I'm so OVER the SUN" aspect of it (I don't tan. My eyes are sensitive to too much sun. I get heat stroke easily. I like summer--don't get me wrong. I just welcome fall when it comes.) I have resolved to try to savor this month. Because even if my "homeschooling mom" badge has been ripped from my shirt and my "homeschooling mother" license revoked, I *don't* feel like "I can't wait till they're gone." I admit I can't wait till the Tuesday/Thursday swimathons (one swim practice, two swim lessons, followed by one swim meet) are over because they forced me to work ALL weekend, but I am only looking forward to the start of school for one very simple reason: My sons are. And I'm not so selfish as to think that's not a good thing. Yay for them for thinking that going back to school is a wonderful thing. But I get six more weeks and even if the Bishop is starting to think I've gone inactive (which I haven't, but I have been abent from Sacrament meeting a lot this summer) I'm going to put my brain on "record" and watch the football practices and twin swim lessons and get out of cell phone range a few more times and enjoy it all.


Aunt Charlotte said...

I don't remember if it was Ben or Milo, but one of them had the cutest temper tantrums at the farm when they were 18 months old. With the first TT, he threw himself on the floor and started pounding his hands and feet. That was a one and only, as he was throwing himself onto the quarry tile, not the most forgiving of surfaces. The next one he carefully lowered himself onto the tile, which was ok, but still hard on the hands and feet. Finally one saw them carefully preparing for the event-looking for rugs with enough room to have a good tantrum. Rather decreased the effectivenss- however.

BabaGaye said...

I beg to correct also! You don't remember the time you and I and Max went grocery shopping in Petaluma before going on an outing to a beach somewhere in Sonoma County? I remember yelling and screaming, kicking to get out of the grocery cart and then laying down on the floor and screaming! What a nice mother you are to forget!

The Queen said...

Nope--I don't remember that thing with Max at all--although if it was in Petaluma during beach season then he would have been between 12 and 15 months old. I believe that it happened, but it must have been unusual because I'm not that rosey-eyed.

Max *was* a handful in other ways, between the ages of four and eight, especially. He would get very wound up in a group of people. But I would still hold that in general, he does not throw and did not typically throw temper tantrums. He could whine like the dickens--but we had vays uf dealink with that.

Charlotte's memory falls in the exception I stated of "before the age of two and at home." The farm *totally* counts as "home."

Actually, Charlotte's memory may account for the reason they mysteriously "outgrew" those tantrums. I'd forgotten about the rocks ;)