Is the day over yet? Oh, damn it...it's only noon...

Today is one of those freakin’ days…and it’s only 12:30. I have been to the grocery store, to the Babies R Us extravaganza-mart, and have made an attempt to go to the Children’s Museum, but had to abort the mission because freakin Genghis Khan would not shut up and I was going to lose it.

We started our day pretty well; they got up at 7:00 and actually ate some cereal on their own, without having to be spoon-fed. Little did I know that would be the high point of the morning…

The DH left for work, Baby B saw him go through the door and let out this high-pitched scrrrreeeaaaammmmm that just went on and on and on. Even when I was holding him. So, I resorted to singing this Spanish song about leaping fish and prancing around the dining room to distract him from the loss of his father. That worked, as it always does, but as usual, little Genghis had to be picked up to dance too. Which is fine, except now after dancing with two 23-pound toddlers in my arms on a daily basis I have muscles like a freakin stevedore. (Yet I still have fat arms? Yes, they are fat; there is a weird fat roll on the top of each arm. Is there no justice in the world? No? Well, I didn’t think so.)

I managed to get each child into a fresh pair of underpants (as we so cunningly call diapers chez moi) and into two socks and two shoes each. I emphasize the fact they each had two each of shoe and sock when we left the house at 8:45 in the freakin am. We went to Trader Joe’s, a local crunchy yuppie market and Baby B kicked off a shoe in the parking lot. A woman getting into her car calls out, “Oh! He lost a shoe!” I said, “Thank you!” picked it up and as I was bending over his sweet little foot to fasten the Velcro straps tightly, he kicked me in the face. Now, y’all know how protective I am of my face, so I got a little mad. But I quickly let go of mad and got a grip instead, popped them, complaining, in a cart and into the store.

First stop, the chocolate sample bin. One candy in each mouth and hey presto! Like magic, we have Silence! Of course baby B practically swallowed his whole, and yelled “More! More!” as he sprayed chocolate spit on his outfit, formerly known as CLEAN CLOTHES, and kicked off his shoe again. I got another candy, unwrapped it, filled his gaping maw with chocolate, got another candy for Genghis, who, when he saw that his brother has a second piece, clearly thought, “Damn it, I need another one too!!! EEEEYYYAAA!” I unwrapped Baby A’s candy, gave it to him, put Baby B’s shoe back on and clunk. That was the sound of Genghis’ shoe hitting the floor. I said, “Yes, I saw that he’s missing a shoe” to the person who pointed to the sneaker on the floor, simply put the sneaker in the cart and kept on going.

You guessed it; Baby B had his other sneaker off two minutes later. I gave up on the shoes, and we left the store.

Next stop, Babies R Us, which I only visit when I absolutely must. Why? Because I always wind up getting bits of plastic junk that I don’t really need because It Looked so Useful/Fun/Interesting the Store. (Hi, My name is MOT, and I am a shopper. Hi, MOT!)

Anyway, at the BRU Mega Mart, I picked up the window shade we needed and two bath toys, which I thought we needed, but as it turns out, we really didn’t need them at all. We are in the checkout line and a woman points out that Baby B is only wearing one shoe. I say, “Thank you, I did notice.” She then says, “Oh! The other one (grrrr) is only wearing one shoe too! Hee hee!” I reply, “I can only afford one pair, so they have to share.” Hee hee right back at cha, you freakin’ cow.

We exit stage right, and get to the car. I give each baby a bath toy with which to amuse himself as we make the 30-minute drive to the Children’s Museum, and we take off. This is when it all falls apart.

It was about 11:00 at this point, and I was tired from a restless night and coffee deprived. Since I am also cash poor at the moment; I have plastic a-plenty, but no ATM nearby; I was not able to get a Double D cup. (Get it? Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. Get? Double D? Har de har har, that’s some puerile nursing humor fir you.) I was also pissed off by the babies’ inability to keep more than one shoe on and angry at their habit of kicking me when I try to get the freakin shoes back on. I was also a bit annoyed by the comfort of strangers I had received. Yes, I know they aren’t wearing shoes! I am their mother! I do have eyes! I just don’t want to fight them anymore! Why don’t you mind yer own freakin business? Or, conversely, why don’t you pick up the little sneaker and hand it to me, instead of just sniggering and pointing to it on the floor and making me feel like a freakin irresponsible mother? It’s called helping. Yes, I was also feeling sensitive.

Taking the above into consideration put your self in my shoes (!!) and get on the highway with two toddlers and only one interesting bath toy. They fought over who got to hold the boat with the hippo in it, Baby B won, and when I handed over the squeaky rubber duck to Genghis, he threw it across the car. I did my best to get it from where it was lodged next to the car seat, but it was stuck and I was on the highway, with no shoulder. I tried to ply him with juice and music and mini red-waxed cheeses, but he (grrr) pulled off HIS other shoe and tried to toss it at my head. I got off at the next exit, and prepared to double back to the Baby store to get another freakin hippo boat to shut him up, but little Baby B, exhausted from his shoe-filled morning, fell asleep. I took the hippo boat away from Baby B and handed it over, but that too came flying across the car. I was not about to go back to the store with one freaking out baby and one sleeping baby, nor could I see us going to the children’s museum any time soon, so we just turned around again and headed for home.

Since we were out of the way, it took about 25 minutes to get home. Even with the hippo boat on his lap, Genghis was still mad/tired/agitated, so he screamed and whined all the way home. We pull into the garage and he really starts crying and waving his arms and pointing to the light in the garage. Now I know he loves having the lights turned on and off, but because he was being too impossible, I deliberately left the light off, and unloaded the car. He yelled and shrieked and said, “light! Light!” But mean mommy that I am, I put the groceries in the house, put the freakin bath toys away on a high shelf and had a glass of water before I got him out of the car seat and into the house.

Ooooh, was he pissed off! But after a diaper change, a sip of juice and a snuggled from Mommy Dearest, he feel asleep. I guess he was tired, eh?

I met a friend of mine at a playgroup the other day. She looked a little ashen and tired and said, in a whisper, “ I almost killed my child this morning.”

Me: Oh! Did he fall? Was he hurt? Any blood?
Friend: No! There was no accident. I mean, on purpose.
Me: Oh! Well, that’s okay then.

Anyone who thinks we are big blue meanies doesn’t have 20-month-old twin boys. And if you do have twins, you know exactly what we are freakin talking about.

EDITED TO ADD: Actually, if you have more than one child, in any combination of ages, you too deserve a martini. To drink right NOW.