Cat in Heels

That’s how long it’s been since the twins were born. Five looooong years. Or five short years. It feels like a couple months ago they were infants. Now they’re full blown children. Big kids, as they now refer to themselves. Kids who are reading and writing and soaking the world up like a sponge. Kids who are arguing and developing opinions, a sense of style, and a very serious set of likes and dislikes. Kids who want to be part of everything and do all the stuff big kids do, but still tell me they don’t want to be adults because they don’t want to not live with me. Twin Powers, Activate! This is an amazing time. This is magical. This is what I never could have imagined during those long days and nights of that first year. Twin parents, hang in there. Five year olds also means that Husband and I have survived as the parents of twins for five full years. We may not have slept a lot, and some of it was hard. Like really, soul wrenchingly difficult. I can’t compare to somethi

Cue the mid-life crisis. Or not quite yet. I did have a birthday this summer, but it hasn't pushed me to 40 just yet. And it's not so much a crisis as it is a revelation and the decision to do something to take myself back. In the last year so much has happened and I haven't written a word. Well, I have written, but then I get a draft, get busy and move on. By the time I think about posting it again it seems dated and like it needs a total rewrite, which I don't always have time for. Now I'm making time. I'm taking charge of something in my life and I am making time to write. I feel more like me when I write. I have so much to say, and yet I'm a very private person who isn't the best at doing things like going out or making friends. I always joke with my extroverted husband that I only have like eight friends. That may be an exaggeration now and the number is actually lower, but they're all really, really good friends. The kind I can call if I

Every morning as I get ready for work the twins come wandering into my bathroom, rubbing the sleep from their eyes and telling me about their crazy dreams. I finish my hair and start doing my makeup and they crowd around me, grabbing at makeup brushes and asking what everything is as I apply each piece. About a month earlier at Ulta trying not to touch everything.  D: "What's that for?" Me: "It's foundation so Mommy's skin isn't blotchy." D: "Oh. You put it on with a cat egg?" Me: "It's a beauty blender, sweetie. Cats don't lay eggs." S: "What's that for?" Me: "It's an eyebrow pencil so Mommy has eyebrows again because she waxed them into oblivion in the '90s." S: "Oh. Oblivion? Do I have eyebrows?" Me: "Yes bay, they're right here above your eyes, and they're beautiful so don't ever mess with them even if thin brows come back into style." And

I’ve really sucked at this blogging this this year.  Sometimes I feel like I kind of just half-assed it through part of the year. Or like I’m running after my life, which is speeding ahead of me, my fingers just brushing it as I reach forward at a full sprint. Maybe this is just adulthood. Motherhood. Career. Frosting Face - or "How my kids became the Joker" Celebrity deaths and politics aside (which so much has been written by others, I have nothing to add) 2016 was not a bad year. I got a promotion. My children and family are happy and generally healthy. My younger sister is engaged. I finally got some medical stuff figured out and started to lose some of the baby weight (plus some put on by a sluggish postpartum thyroid) and got rid of the brain fog that came with it. Yet with all these things, time seems to go so quickly and the days fill up so fast. Lunch hours are dedicated to the gym or work meetings (because who doesn’t love a working lunch). Evenings

After dinner yesterday I was playing with the girls when the first reports of the terror attack in Nice, France started showing up on my phone. News alerts, Facebook; I wanted to know what was going on. S wanted to wear one of my bracelets to bed and D was trying to decide if she was going to wear a tutu to bed. I finally decided that I need to focus on my twins and the precious little time I get with them every day. The horrors of the world will still be unrolling on Facebook and every major news network when they’re sound asleep. As I put my phone down D walked up to me and handed me a book. “Night-night book,” she said sitting down next to me. I stared down and felt a lump in my throat. The book was “ Brush Mona Lisa’s Hair .” France is under attack again and here I am staring at one of the most famous paintings in the world, which resides in the French’s most famous museum…and my little girl has no idea. She just likes interacting with the pictures. We are rea

Why are four letter words so easy to say? I mean for us adults they just roll off the tongue in a variety of situations. I haven’t counted how many I use in a day, but it’s up there. I tried to stop once but it turns out not swearing is bullshit that other people do. It’s like cooking or running marathons. Great for some people, but totally not for me. It turns out that four letter words are equally easy to for toddlers to say. How is it that the kids say “beek-a-poo” when playing peek a boo, but “Fuck” is loud and clear. Monkeys are commonly referred to as “on-keys” but “oh shit” doesn’t seem to be tripping them up. Husband said in their defense we probably say “fuck” a lot more than “peek-a-boo.” I'm not sure about that, but the two may be neck and neck. My two-year-old twins are dropping f-bombs at the dinner table while I have a post-work cocktail. They have also recently learned to growl back at the dog when playing tug, which means at least we’re not the only