I don't negotiate with terrorists or two-year-olds

I am on Facebook like millions of other people. I initially got emails requesting that I be friends with a couple people but I said no because I wasn't sure who they were. Then one day I got a request from a good friend of mine asking if I would be her friend. I thought, well of course I should be her friend, I am her friend. So that was friend number one and now I'm over 100 deep. Even after routinely deleting people, I have this many friends. And Facebook is so amicable in that it calls everyone your friend - whether you know them, like them or are just curious about them but could care less - they are still your "friend". As those ladies in the south would say, "Ain't that nice" with a marginal, southern smile.
So anyway, an acquaintance of mine who is my "friend" on facebook wrote a funny post that stuck in my head. "I don't negotiate with terrorists or two year olds". I found this disgustingly funny because you have a little child looking at you, nagging at you, asking for something that your better judgement tells you to say 'no'. You actually consider a 'yes' response to that little menace just because your mothering skills allow you to anticipate the reaction of the menace to your 'no' and you want to bypass that. But since I am such a stickler of a mother I say 'no' and listen to the madness ensue. I repeat in my head to myself, "I don't negotiate with terrorists or two year olds."
That meltdown is like a rattling that you can't seem to find the source of. Like the voice of a person you dislike who talks too much. Like having the TV on, the radio on and your kids talking to you about why they cant have a third bowl of ice cream. It's annoying. And for some reason, things that are annoying insult our brain from the inside out- and at all costs, we want it to stop. Being a parent requires perseverance to get through the jackhammer of infant crying and the rattling annoyance of toddler whining.
That is why we watch them when the sleep. And take pictures of them when they sleep. And reminisce of how they've grown and how sweet and wonderful they are. When those little sweet, soft lips are closed and their whole face is still it is so peaceful because all too familiar are the noises, the movement, and the energy of the day from start to finish. Culminated by the heightened craziness that comes on when little ones get tired.
So no, I don't negotiate with terrorists or two year olds and I do lose my mind sometimes and I do love to watch them sleep.

Updates and Potty-Trained Vacations

I haven't written lately because I guess working full-time and taking care of babies the other full time takes up the whole time! But my arms have been much more free lately because Marc has started to walk like a drunken Frankenstein and he is thrilled with that as well. Gabby was very difficult for a while, which is the nature of her age but she has gotten about 15% better. It is humorous and wonderful to hear the ideas and comprehension that comes out of her. And just as amazing and insatiably engrossing is hearing Marc speak - he is just a burst of vocabulary!
My job is going well - now that I have been there for about 4 months, I am able to do my work with more ease. I have a very heightened compassion for many of these older patients and for that, I have a purpose in what I do stretching far beyond nutrition.

We recently went away for the weekend to Newport, Rhode Island which is wrought with memories for Tom and I. It was great family time, but awful traffic. The one thing I am remembering about this trip that is standing out as different from any other is that I had a potty trained toddler. I had to cringe every time my clean little girl would grip the nasty dirty toilet bowl in a public bathroom as if there was no problem. I can't even bear to put my own hands on a clean toilet bowl but my kid is doing it with dirtiest of them. I just try to get through the yucky moments and scrub the heck out of her hands. I guess Tom didn't realize the exact logistics that go on when taking her to go pee pee in these gross bathrooms but I had to vent after one lovely experience.
We went into one super lovely bathroom and I proceeded to coat the throne with toilet paper as I always do, and this toilet was special because the lid wobbled around and didn't fit well on the bowl so I had to cover it up good so that she wouldn't end up holding onto or sitting on the actual man-bowl. (YUUUUCCCCCCKKKK as I am revisiting this memory). But then Ms. Independent-I'm-A-Three-Year-Old-Big-Girl now insists she doesn't need toilet paper on the potty and she can do it herself. So after I strategically placed the toilet paper on the seat, then strategically placed her on top of that, she then sways back and forth in order to allow all the toilet paper to fall off the bowl because she can't bear to do her business on a pot not completely set up herself. She refused to get off and paper the pot herself, so I just turned away and let her fester in a pool of hepatitis and E.coli.....
MAN that is gross! You have to let her pee though, either that or I get into an all out arguement in a 3 x 3 stall with about 20 people waiting to have their chance at the germ thrown.
So I told Tom this story prefaced by my understanding that there are toddler gloves that are made to be put on when going into public bathrooms for scenarios just like this. He said that's disgusting and she is going to get Hepatitis. I guess I just have to wallow in my ignorance and assume that she will not get any yucky diseases...and go get the gloves so I can foster her new found obsessive compulsive disorder.

Evening Routine

Work is still going really well. My one complaint so far is that if I get back to pick up my babies before about 6:00 or so, Gabby doesn't seem to want to see me. My thoughts without psychoanalyzing this is that she doesn't want to see me because when it's too early her friends haven't left yet. Her favorite friend leaves at 6, so I think she is ready to come home then. But I have to tell you, she puts up a major fuss when I try to pick her up early, and it is exhausting for me to deal with. I have had to literally drag her out of the place because she was having an all out throw down because she didn't want to leave - so I hold Marc in one arm and pull Gabby out kicking and screaming with the other- and it is not fun. Especially when I am excited to see them and excited to get back home at an early hour. Marc shares this excitement with me, but not Gabby.

I really had enough of this display by my daughter when I pick her up so on Wednesday when I got out early, I took my iPod and my sneakers and went for a run out and around my work- it was 68-70 degrees, sunny, breezy and wonderful. I had to give up something that was an important and enjoyable part of my life when I started working, and I had to majorly modify it in general when I had kids- so if my chick doesn't want to see me early, I will work out after work, regain that part of my life and have an enjoyable reunion everyday when I pick them up. I used to run so much, all over the place. I developed a relationship with all the locations in which I have lived by running there, because I am able to do while being driven by the wonderful endorphins that flow through me is to observe my surroundings. The trains, the buses, the cars the people, the stores, the garbage, the buildings, houses and the water. All these things become my friends and I endear to them all - I have never disliked any area that I have ran through.

Yes, Marc would like to see me earlier, but I'll be a nicer mother to both of them if everyone is nice to me. So Wednesday went well after my run, and Thursday it was raining and I didn't get out early enough to do that much so I went to get them and I said to my self, "I hope she goes easily". And she didn't. I and I have to admit, I was exhausted from this, not because of work but because I anticipated this reaction and it is so difficult. So I have this emotion that wants to just clock her sometimes, but since I can't do that, it had to get it out somehow, so I started to cry. We all sat in the car while I finished crying for about 2 minutes. Gaby was screaming saying "don't put me in the car seat" repeatedly, I was crying with my hand over my face so anyone else picking up their kid didn't think I was some mentally unstable mom who needs a referral, and Marc was nicely strapped in his seat looking at us like we were all nuts, "why is my sister screaming, I am happy to see mama. My car seat is nice too - it's like a gentle sedative. Why is mama sad? She was just smiling and hugging me." So anyway, I composed myself, went back and got her in her car seat and went home.

I called a women from the church group I used to go to who's opinion I value very much and she told me about a book to help parents communicate with their kids and to get out of them what they are thinking and feeling. So I ordered it online. I am open to anything that helps me learn and helps me be a better parent. But she said something so simple that we all learn in any counseling course, to say "that must be hard for you". Sometimes we hear too many suggestions to help the situation but all you want sometimes is for someone to acknowledge that it is hard for you. In that, I feel that 1. she understands what I am going through, 2. she agrees that it is hard, I know it is because I am the one doing it, but it is nice to know someone feels my pain 3. reminds me that in doing something hard and succeeding, which I am, I am pretty good :)
The woman from my church told me before I started working that my kids will likely be mad at me and seem as if they like their care givers more than me. Now I don't mind that they like their care givers - I think they should, but I do mind if they are mean to me. She thought Gabby's reaction is because she is angry with me because I left her, she doesn't understand why but knows that I was the one that did it. But when I told her about the difference between 5pm and 6pm, she agreed with my hypothesis about Gabby and her friends. When my husband picks them up, early or not, they are both happy. He thinks the different reaction is because it is a novelty to see him. He suggested that I come home to run where it is a bit safer and he can go pick them up. This works out great for me - he gets to have some happy times alone with them, I get to decompress before the little people take over the joint.

So anyway, my trial at this time, after 4 weeks of work, is figuring out the best way to keep everyone the happiest between the hours of 5 and 6, or just rambling on until time runs its course and everyone is happy on their own despite my new dreamed up arrangements.