We Played Dress Up Today

As you can see we had 2 little witches in the house all day! When I took them to get costumes I had not actually planned on getting them witch outfits. Seporah had decided she wanted to be Buzz Lightyear and Felicity had wanted to be a “princess superhero.” I was like ok we’ll go with that. So I pick out one of each of their decisions (the princess superhero BTW was a superhero outfit with a matching tiara, just in case you were wondering) and the girls saw ALL these costumes!!!! So many fun choices! Felicity was the first to decide she wanted to be a witch and I gave her the choice between the 2 and she insisted on the witch. Seporah then shortly followed suit, ditching Buzz somewhere between the fairy outfits and princess outfits (not where it belongs BTW since I found it in the boy’s section).

Then we got home and they just HAD to try them on. They told me I was going to be a witch too and I drug out my old witch’s gown. BTW, I totally love this costume, had it FOREVER. It’s cute and stretches to whatever size I am, when I was size 4 (a very, very, very long time ago) or when I was just 11 days away from giving birth. Seporah insisted my hood was NOT a witch’s hat and I needed to get another one from the store. I told her that probably wasn’t going to happen.

They also have matching buckets that they picked out (I swear I did not color coordinate them, they did it themselves, 2 points each for a sense of style). When Daddy came home I told them to tell him what they say on Halloween.
Felicity: “Christmas Tree!!!”
Seporah: “No, you say “Pumpkin Treat!!!”
We just laughed and said either would probably get them what they wanted since they were so gosh darn cute!

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She’s Two You Know

As in Terrible Two.

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Today’s Conversation:
Felicity had been crying for 10 minutes.
Mommy: All done with your fit?
Felicity: Yes.
Mommy: All done crying?
Felicity: Yes.
Mommy: Are you going to be good?
Felicity: Yes.
Mommy: Are you going to cry?
Felicity: No.
Mommy: Are you going to scream?
Felicity: No.
Mommy: Are you going to listen?
Felicity: No.
At least she was honest on the last question. The smiley face lasted for about 3 minutes and 12 seconds before the crying started again.

And the Sewing Fiasco Continues (the Fiasco Part Referring to the Mess that is My Living Room

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I made these darling pants…

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…as well as the girl wearing them.

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Magical Shroom…

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…the “Magical” part referring to that they are gender neutral for the co-worker who’s not finding out. Craziness. I mean who doesn’t find out in this day and age?

My Domestic Abilities are Expanding

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It’s called a Taggie and believe me, they are all the rage in today’s baby consumerism population, google Taggies if you don’t believe me. I made it for a good friend who’s having a baby. They have waited a loonnnggg time for him. I was so thrilled and bought her some stuff, but the stuff (although super cute) really didn’t feel personal at all. So I was like dude, I just bought a sewing machine and I’m gonna start making excuses to use it. I used 3 different types of soft feeling fabrics (don’t ask me what they’re called) and I thought it turned out well. Felicity and Seporah said it was “actually really, really soft” and tried to insist they were the babies that needed it.

Since I Worked on Mother’s Day, It Only Seemed Fair that Steven Would Work on Father’s Day (ie He Can’t Censor What I Write, hehe)

I know on Father’s Day you’re suppose to write a flowery post about the wonderful fathers in you life, but I’m at the end of my rope with my little monsters and the fact that my Dad didn’t like my Father’s Day gift really ticked me off. I offered him my children for good as a gift and he thought I was kidding. Darn it. That means I’m stuck with them for another 13.5 and 15.5 years respectively. As soon as they hit 18, I’m kicking them to the curb.

Hopefully the next so many years don’t sound like yesterday: Seporah was repeatedly bugging Felicity while they were in the car. Felicity was repeatedly screaming. I pull the car over and in my meanest mean mommy voice say, “Don’t touch your sister! Don’t poke your sister! Don’t hit your sister! Don’t kick your sister! Don’t touch her toy! Don’t take away her toy! Don’t pretend to hit your sister! Don’t put your hand in her face! Don’t pinch your sister! Do you understand?!?!?!”
“yes.”
Good, start driving again and not 5 seconds later Felicity starts screaming again. “WHAT?!?! DID YOU HIT YOUR SISTER?”
“no.”
“DID YOU KICK YOUR SISTER?”
“no.”
etc, etc, no to everything.
“THEN WHY IS SHE SCREAMING?!?!”
“I poked her chair.”

The people who say “Be grateful, these are the best years of your life” either have really lousy memories or have much more obedient children than ours. The longer we have the girls, the more amazed I am that my brothers and I made it to adulthood without being killed by our parents. I mean there were FOUR of us, that’s twice as many as we have. Sibling rivalry drives me absolutely bonkers, I’m amazed MY girls aren’t dead yet.

So thank you Dad for not killing any of us and keeping us around for 18+ years. I really appreciate that all of us made it, even though you had 3 boys so there’d be spares.

Thanks for finally taking me to the emergency department when my appendix ruptured. If you hadn’t I would have never lived long enough to fully appreciate a nursery with raisins ground into the carpet that reeks of poopy diapers.

Thanks for teaching me how to drive. If you hadn’t I’d never know the joy of listening to my little monsters fighting with each other in the back seat while I tried to make a left turn.

Thanks for teaching me how to tie my shoes. It’d be difficult to chase after the girls with me tripping over my laces.

Thanks for teaching me how to read. It’s really come in handy for the 28th reading of Olivia Goes to the Park.

Thanks for teaching me to never talk to strangers. As far as my children are concerning, catering to their every whim is far more important than developing a social life anyway.

Thanks for teaching me to sing off key. You get no awards for singing The Itsy Bitsy Spider on key anyways.

Thanks for teaching me about the Strike Zone. Between work, school and children, you’re never gonna find the energy to do it anyways.

Thanks for teaching me the true value of a nap. Now if I could just have the opportunity to appreciate one.

Sorry for all those times when I was little that I annoyed the hell out of you. I’ve got my comeuppance: grandchildren.

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Baby Märia, Mommy Pam, Toddler Russell and Daddy Russ