Surprise. Disgust. Relief.

We took the entire brood the playground yesterday.

I'm accustomed to seeing a throng of mildly misbehaving kids with one frazzled almost-adult. I'm not used to a toddler accompanied by an entourage of four adults - two parents and a set of grandparents. There were two such baby rockstars at the playground yesterday, tiny walkers followed closely by two people and watched hawkishly by two more. Bump and I snorted derisively at the excess while being wildly envious of the kid-to-grownup ratio.

The grandparent-types fawned over our children, nodding their approval over our fertility, and making sure the parent-types made note of our situation. You could see the grumbled complaints of "That couple on the playground had three kids. You could have three kids too, ya know" forming in their mouths.

We pointed out a secluded section of the playground for smaller kids - perfect for their royal charges - and eventually the toddler play area had two children under two and eight adults fenced inside.

Bump packed pretzels and sippy cups for the stroller ride back. As we neared the house, Lumpyhead asked his father "Will you take this? I'm not going to eat it."

Bump stopped the stroller, expecting to collect unwanted pretzels.

Lumpyhead handed him a huge booger.

He WISHES He Was That Cool

Lula received a pack of Lego people for Christmas - Lego Dudes, as they are known in our house. I told her one of the Lego Dudes looked like her.
She decided it looked like her cousin Denise. Fair enough.

She soon found other similarities. According to Lula, this one looks like Aunt Bob's Little Guy.

This one looks like me.

Then she brought one to Bump, saying "Looks like you, Papa. Looks like you!"

Um . . .She's given it a lot of thought, apparently, because on several occasions she has picked up that particular Lego Dude and called it Papa.

Warning

Nathan Jr will fuck you up if you make fun of his hat.

Listening to Sounds with Lumpyhead's Mom

Indulge me for a moment, but I love listening to my children play together.

Lula will hand Lumpyhead a toy and shout "HERE Lumpyhead" and he'll respond with a grand "Thay-YANK you, Lula" and they both comically emphasize odd words and repeat the process until he's sitting there with 35 toys in his lap and she has run out of items to bring him.

Sometimes she will do something that bugs him and he'll say "STOP, Lula" and she'll get right in his face and implore "Why Lumpyhead, WHY?" and he'll whine "Because I said so," doing his best to avoid her laser-beam gaze.

Or when Lula destroys what Lumpyhead is working on, like a tower or a puzzle, I love the stern mix of disappointment and annoyance with which he says "Luuu-la! No."

And even though it signifies that all manner of hell is about to break loose and Happy Play Time is over, I really love to hear them discipline each other. "No Lula. Time out!" Lumpyhead will shriek, right before the Double Wailing begins.

Or she will growl a staccato "Time. Out." at Lumpyhead right before doing something wholly unacceptable like kicking him in the head.

So, yeah. Other than the crying, listening to them play together is really fun. What was I talking about again?

That Day Will Come

The day will come when the baby will poop and we will change his diaper and put his pants back on and that will be the end of it; we will not need to pull a shit-covered onesie over his head and replace the cover on the changing table and pre-treat every item of clothing he was wearing and give the child a bath. Every. Stinking. Time.

But today is not that day.

Defying Both Nature and Nurture

Lula was playing with her new magnadoodle when she dropped the pen. I heard her very clearly utter the word "Shoot."

Shoot.

Not shit. Not fuck. Not goddammit.

Not even crap.

My daughter - my daughter - said "Shoot."

I have no idea where she gets these things. Maybe her grandmother taught her to say that.

Success/Failure

Last night, Lumpyhead and Lula wore their pajamas inside out.

This morning, Arlington County schools were closed.

I did not wear my pjs inside out last night.

This morning, the federal government was open.

Coincidence? I don't think so.

Notes on the Inauguration

Yesterday was a great day in America. Here are my observations on the festivities, in no particular order.

- If you voted against a Supreme Court Justice's confirmation, but he becomes the Chief Justice anyway, don't let him administer your oath of office. If he has to do it because the Constitution says so, insist he use a notecard or something.

- My husband was immediately bothered by the line "Forty-four Americans have now taken the presidential oath." If my Math Geek husband can figure out that something is wrong with that line, surely someone else could have caught the error. Maybe the speechwriting staff should have number-checked the inaugural address. Darn you, Grover Cleveland, with your non-consecutive terms.

- Sarah now has staff to take her photos and make her oatmeal. She also insists on carrying her friends' faces around on little sticks. I'm starting to worry about her.

- Wearing a bridesmaid's dress from ten years ago requires more undergarments than the first time around. I'm thinking along the lines of "foundation shapewear" but what I really mean is "a girdle so powerful it requires a structural engineer." Also, if you lose all sense of reality and ignore the laws of physics and gravity long enough to buy the Infinity bra, have a back-up plan. Because the Infinity bra does not perform as advertised, and when you find that out you will feel like an idiot for thinking it might work in the first place. You'll also be stuck with a goofy bra that doesn't stick on for long enough to zip up your dress, and you will have no choice but to go commando-on-top (which might have worked fine ten years ago is not a great option three kids later). But with good pasties and enough champagne - plus a reliable babysitter and a hot date - even a nursing mom can attend a ball.
Also: if you look drunk in a photograph, it's probably because you are.

I'm Not Crazy. You're Crazy.

People, there are more of them today than there were yesterday. They stand in perfect lines at strategic places in the Nation's Capital. They're amassing a huge force, and they're breeding.

There's no way we can keep up. It has taken me four years to make three humans - and that's considered pretty fast - and those little humans will need several years to mature. Two of those humans are still completely incontinent, for heaven's sake.

But these things - I hear these things can hold urine and fecal matter for days. Like it's their job.

I'm telling you, THE PORTAPOTTIES ARE GOING TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD!

Photo Progression

We keep most of the kids' toys in plastic bins. Lula demands Bump empty one every morning for her, and calls it her "boat."

Lula in a boat

Lumpyhead and Lula in a boat

GET OUT OF MY BOAT