Friday, February 27, 2015

Shades of Gray

This is not about that shittily written book or the movie, which I will probably hate-watch when it comes to Netflix. Instead it’s about counting, assholes and how I can’t keep my footwear straight despite the fact that I only have like 6 pairs of shoes that fit.

Last weekend I packed up the girls, tossed them and their crap in the car and headed out for errands. I had to return a pair of oxblood boots to DSW because the heel cap on one shoe disintegrated after 2 wears in my office. Of course they didn’t have any more in my size in the whole wide damn world, and so I had to return them (and of course get something else).

The girls and I pursued the clearance racks because, well, sales, and I eventually picked out a pair of Adrienne Vittadini leopard flats that look like something logical I should own so I can chase babies, and a pair of gray d’orsay Vincent Camuto pumps. Admittedly the latter were somewhat rushed.

These two are nothing alike. They can both stay.
D was holding the flats, happily playing and S was starting to squawk at everything to passed in an effort to voice her displeasure at being in her seat.  Of course I also decided to wear Dr. Martens to DSW because I apparently subconsciously didn’t plan on trying anything on.

“You babies wait here while Mommy wrestles this boot off so I can see if these flats I’m not even sure I like fit. Now wait while I take 10 minutes to lace this shit back up.”

Bad plan.

So I ran out of there with two pairs of shoes, not really satisfied with my purchase and went to Target. By now both girls are freaking out and are pissed to still be strapped in, so I put one in a cart, strap one on in an Ergo, and go into Target.

Now Ergo baby wants out.

I smoosh them both in the seat of a cart meant to apparently hold one very wide child and we’re off.

The next 30 minutes we zipped around Target picking up odds and ends while the girls marveled at life from the seat of a shopping cart (did I mention this was their first cart ride). They looked at everything, tried to touch everything, and every time we passed a person D laughed at them. Loud. In this weird inward breathing baby laugh we refer to as “inward chicken singing.”  This of course makes people notice her and then they stop and talk to me.

The one in zebra (D) is mocking you.
“Oh look, there’s two of them.”  Seriously, I heard that like 15 times. As if I don’t know how many babies I have. I grew them, I was the one who was the size of a house, couldn’t breathe, and had two babies torn from my body two minutes apart. I am also the same person who has been caring for them the last 11 months, including every night when they wake up, usually twice. I am really, really aware there’s two of them.

All comments about how many children I have sitting in the cart were then immediately followed by, “Oh, a boy and a girl?”

What? Sure. The boy is the one in pink. Or is he the one in zebra with hearts on the pants? They’re both wearing Cabbage Patch Kid hats with pigtails? Obviously the redhead. With the pigtails.

Assholes. I am no longer embarrassed that my baby is inexplicably laughing at you. It is obvious it’s because she realizes how dumb you are before you open your mouth.

Finally we packed up and went home for a vaguely overdue lunch. I unpacked all my stuff, looked at the shoes, placed them in the closet, and realized that the Vince Camuto heels are the exact same style and color as another pair of gray heels I just bought. But they’re different shades. Maybe I should just keep them both. Going out again to return them is entirely too much effort.



Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Wear it Once

I’m a total clothes nut. So are my mom and both sisters. Mom also loves buying her grandchildren clothes. As a result, I have yet to really buy a lot of clothes for my girls, which is good because I think they were in 9 month sizes for literally a month, and then they shot up to 12 months, which they are now rapidly growing out of.

They are also skinny and their pants fall down all the time leaving them standing in a diaper like life is one giant episode of “Pants Off Dance Off,” but they need the height (cause they’re all of 2 feet tall).  Wearing 12 month clothes at 11 months isn't really an accomplishment, and they’re still kind of little peanuts even though they seem really huge compared to when they came home.I'm pretty sure the growth spurt is coming from their new love of food.

So far they're not big fans of salami. That's it. They eat eggs, biscuits and gravy, pancakes, all kinds of fruits, veggies, tacos, tortillas. They even had salsa. Husband and I literally just give them little finger food portions of whatever we're having (unless it's pizza night at which point they get something healthy) and they feed themselves.

Tortilla party!
Yes, this is as messy as it sounds, but they're obviously getting something into their mouth because they're growing like crazy.

With their first birthday right around the corner and a closet full of 12 months clothes, we are now making an effort to have them wear every outfit at least once before they outgrow it. At least that’s my goal. Husband would be content to let them hang out in pajamas all the time. “They’re just going to shit it up anyway,” is a common sentiment in my house. Also, we are still in the rabid squirrel phase of teething, which means that everything they get near is immediately covered in drool. This includes shirts, hands, toys, the floor, the crib, the bed and the dog.

So here’s to trying to get them to wear all their outfits in the next month before they turn 1 and move into the next size (again). I’m not sure they care what they’re wearing, but I do, and they’re always going to look cute.  What you're wearing is important when you're trying to accessorize by rubbing refried beans in your hair. We also need to invest in some drawstring pants or baby belts because as soon as they start walking, which we are dangerously close to, they’re going to get even skinnier. In fact, as soon as they start walking I think we’ll all get skinnier as we chase them around in different directions. 

I think I'm going to need new shoes for that.