I have twin boys who are turning 3 in about a week.
I sometimes wonder if someone dropped them on their heads as infants when I wasn’t around.
That’s the back of my boys. You can’t get a picture of the front of them together. I had to tackle them, sit on them and get a quick snap for a picture of their faces together.
The past few weeks these two have been pushing my buttons more and more. And amazingly for 3 year-olds they know just which buttons to push.
A few days ago I was using the oven to make dinner. When you use an oven, you have to use oven mitts. I keep my oven mitts in a drawer next to the oven. Once I got the ingredients together and cooking, I decided to sit down and relax for a bit. It took about 5 minutes to realize my normally loud and hyper-active children were suddenly quiet. Too quiet.
As a parent I’m sure you know that once they get quiet that means trouble.
I sat on the couch for a few seconds just listening. I heard tiny whispers and giggles. I knew they were up to something. I turned around as silently as possible on the couch and peered over our breakfast bar. Those little shit’s were in my oven mitts. I wasn’t entirely sure what they were doing so I just kept on watching them.
Then it came. The reason why we parents interrupt once they get quiet. The screaming was loud. Oh so loud and two little monsters came barreling into the living room, oven mitts on hands and beating each other with them.
I never thought I’d utter these words, but I did. I looked at them with the fires of Hell in my eyes and said…yelled, “QUIT BEATING EACH OTHER WITH MY OVEN MITTS!”
They stopped for about two seconds to stare at me slightly confused before they resumed beating each other with my Santa Claus mitts.
Today was an extremely tough day. It was nothing but whining and crying from 9 am until I put them to bed half an hour ago. 13 hours of pure hell. Greg and I had to fight to get them to eat dinner. Well, we had to fight with Brett. Mr. Scrawny Pants decided he doesn’t need to eat. I sat on him and made him eat.
Bath time was Eli’s turn to be difficult. I think that boy would go his entire life without a bath and brushing his teeth if we let him. I wasn’t about to let his stinky but go anywhere near his freshly laundered sheets and blankets without a thorough scrubbing. He also ate onions on his burger today so he had some seriously raunchy breath. I’ve learned to wrestle toddlers out of clothes while they’re fighting and screaming. In about 3 moves I had him undressed and screaming in the bathtub. I do have a secret weapon. It works every time…well, almost every time. The Spiderman washcloth.
Twenty minutes later the same child who fought me to get into the tub…you guessed it…fought me getting out. Apparently bathing is not as bad as he thinks.
After fighting to get into pull-ups and t-shirts I let them loose in their bedroom and playroom for about an hour and half to get rid of the excess energy. It didn’t work. Twenty minutes in they start fighting with each other. No biggie, they do it all the time. However; tonight Brett decided to finally beat up Eli. After smacking him in the face and then kicking him, he drug his brother to the toy box, pushed him in and then sat on the lid. I sat there for a few minutes watching. I couldn’t really believe that Brett had shoved his brother in the toy box and was sitting on the lid.
That’s when I said the next phrase I never thought I would. “Brett do not sit on the toy box lid and keep your brother in there! Let him out!”
He just looked at me. So, I got up and walked over to him. “Brett, where’s Eli?”
Brett: shrugs his shoulders.
Me: Brett, where is Eli?
Brett: I no know momma.
Me: Is he in the toy box?
Eli: (From inside the toy box) Momma? Help momma.
Me: Let your brother out.
Me: Because I said so.
Eli: (still inside the toy box) B bad!
Me: Yes, Eli, Brett is being bad.
I’m having a margarita or two tonight.