Walking to the beat of your own drum . . . priceless

I have said time and time again that my little ones are weird. Maybe weird is the wrong word. Can 2 and 3 year-olds be eccentric? Whatever the word is there is no doubt that my kids define it. And really I think it's great. I have always been a big of fan of those who walk to the beat of their own drum and don't concern themselves with whom is witnessing their "uniqueness". After all I'm from the South where we don't hide our crazies. We put them out there for all the world to see. We honor them and relish in their eccentricities.

And speaking of eccentricities here are a couple of pics of Little Bitty. I had gone upstairs for about 5 minutes. When I came back downstairs this is how I found Little Bitty, drinking her milk and watching Wonder Pets.


Notice that the sunglasses are on upside down. The hat is her brothers and the wooden bead necklace is YaYa's.

Maybe that's why I love the Mastercard commercial with the 3 little boys wearing their backpacks and doing the robot. I'm quite certain my people were the inspiration. (If you don't know what commercial I'm talking about you can check it out here. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1cNDSPutas8

Look Momma! A big city!

Last week while doing an errand and a half-hearted search for gas we drove by a few office parks. Upon seeing these large buildings with full parking lots and people milling around my son exclaimed, "Look Momma, a big city! I love big cities!" It was then and there that I promised to get these people out of the house more often.

Monday morning I woke up with that damn promise looming over my head. So I fell out of bed, got dressed and called my SIL to see if she wanted to join in on the fun. She responded with "I'll be there in 2 minutes." SUCKER! Once I had everyone dressed we loaded up the "mom-mobile" and headed for Target and then to Chick-fil-a for lunch. As soon as the "magic" doors opened at Target the meltdowns began. Hay didn't want to ride in a cart ,and A.J. didn't like the cart she was in. Little Bitty collapsed in full-on drama when she realized that we didn't bring her blankie. However, ever the resourceful one she turned a pair of pink track pants that my SIL was buying for my niece into a substitute blankie. So 45 minutes and a box of mini Nilla wafers later we head to the check out lanes. It was there that the cashier took one look at us, gulped, and confessed she had been struggling with the decision of whether or not to have more children. I'm pretty sure I heard her schedule her tubal ligation as we walked away. So back in the car to drive the 300 feet to Chick-fil-a where once we sit down to lunch my SIL says to me with a red face and sweaty brow, "I will never ever give you a hard time again about not leaving the house, and I will slap the next person that does." And so it was with a satisfied smirk that I inhaled my nuggets and took a big swig of Coke.

And my heart smiled

I just witnessed the most precious exchange between Little Bitty and A.J. Both were laying in my bed fake sleeping (fake sleeping consists of closing your eyes and snoring a really silly snore) and Little Bitty turns to A.J. and says, "G'night A.J." and gives her an air kiss. A.J. smiles and sends an air kiss back to Little Bitty.

I blame it on Barbie

First, a little history. In high school and college I was one of the obnoxious people who could eat whatever he or she wanted and not gain an ounce. Instead of the standard "Freshman 15" I lost 10 lbs. It wasn't until I had my first child that my metabolism started to take a dive.

A few months ago a friend (whom I will refer to as F, as in F for friend. Very clever, I know.) that I haven't seen in probably 18 years (since college) sent me an email. F was going to be in Atlanta next week and did I want to get together? A week?! I can't lose 50 lbs in a week! My first thought was to decline but instead I took a deep breath, said yes and reminded F that it had been 18 years, 4 kids and 3 c-sections since we had last seen each other. F responded back with understanding and a confession. They too had gained weight and was a little embarrassed. I keep thinking back to that email. Why couldn't we just be excited about seeing each other and catching up? Why was my first feeling panic instead of happiness? Is it an innate thing, being ashamed of your body instead of being proud about the person you are?

I blame it on Barbie. Who's sick idea was it to give young, impressionable girls a doll who has giant boobs, a minuscule waist and legs up to their armpits? If you find them send 'em my way. I'll sit on them.

Momma doesn't go outside

Those that know me well know two things for sure. One is that since the twins were born I rarely leave the house. The second is I do not go outside. I am not one who enjoys the out of doors. When A.J. suggests "Outside!" my reply is always the same. "Honey, you know Momma doesn't go outside." Thankfully, DH does not have the same feelings so outside play always falls to him.

So it will come as a huge shock to everyone that I took Hay, A.J., and Little Bitty to the park today for a playdate with some other moms and dads in my multiples club. And I have pictures to prove it!

Now I get it!

So I never really got the whole blogging thing. I've never been much of a journal person. The diary that I received for my 10th birthday still has plenty of blank pages. But now that I'm a SAHM with 4 kids (3 of them toddlers) I think I get it. You can pretend like you are having an adult conversation with someone (albeit a cyber someone) instead of what you are actually doing . . . talking to yourself. It will be a nice break for our dog, Casey. Even he has grown tired of our conversations.