But...

It's true, I'm a girl. And maybe I don't really understand these things. But are butts really that funny? And what about the stuff that comes out of that vicinity? Is that really so funny either?

Two four-year-olds and one thirty-two-year-old think so. All three are male.

I need my own bathroom. Or maybe my own wing.

Once Upon A Time...

...there was a Mommy who missed her two little boys. It was the middle of summer. The boys were home playing blissfully in the summer heat, splashing in pools and running through sprinklers. Mommy was stuck at work, doing a job she hated. So she made a bold move. She snuck out of work a little early (who would notice?) and drove home as fast as she could (within reason) to see her two little boys.

The first wrinkle of the story - the boys were not happy to see her. They wanted Mommy to go away and instead, for their wonderful babysitter Miss J to stay and play with them forever and ever. Mommy was disheartened, but she also knew their emotions were fickle and in a few minutes, they would forget all about Miss J and love Mommy again. Or so she told herself.

To get them to stop crying, Mommy suggested that they go see a movie! The movie was playing at the dollar theater (although it was really the $2 theater), and the boys agreed, and they all drove there as fast as they could (again, within reason), because the movie was going to be starting any minute. Mommy and her boys ran into the theater only to encounter the second wrinkle: a sign that read "CASH ONLY." Mommy never has cash. Never. So back to the minivan, drive to the ATM, get cash, back to the theater, again the running inside, paying the surly teenager, then a stop at the snack bar for stale popcorn and two lemonades that would not fit in the cup holders of the seats and finally they were seated.

Mommy tried not to notice the mildew smell of the theater. (It was an old theater.) And the fact that the seats felt damp. (Why was that? she tried not to think about it.)

Then came the final wrinkle. Boy #1: "Mommy, I have to go potty!" (Luckily, they were the only ones in the entire theater.) While Mommy was trying to get Boy #2 to put his shoes back on, fumbling in the dark, trying not to touch the gross floor, taking WAY too long, Boy #1 speaks up again: "Uh oh Mommy!"

Yes, Boy #1 peed all over the floor (and himself). And Mommy hadn't brought the diaper bag either, as the boys had been potty-trained for months without accidents. After trying to clean up the best one can with paper towels, Mommy graciously let Boy #1 sit on her lap (on top of a layer of paper towels) for the remainder of the movie.

And that was the last time they ever went to the dollar theater.

Cordelia's Revenge

The boys are in a transitional stage. And by transitional stage, I mean that they are literally trying to drive us insane. The mood swings are worse than a 13-year old girl (and I would know). The whining is insurmountable. The fits are uncontrollable. We are nearly at our wit's end.

And then there's the full-body-go-limp, I'm-too-depressed-to-even-react wilt. That's where they melt onto the floor without even a whimper, and you are left with just their apathy as punishment.

My friend S gave me the perfect word to describe their behavior - they are mopey.

I forgot about that word - what an awesomely perfect word to describe what they are doing to us that drives us the MOST CRAZY. I can almost deal with the screaming fits, the broken-hearted-howls-when-the-Wii-is-turned-off. But the moping, good lord, it's the perfect punishment for me.

I was always certain that I would have three daughters. I'm not sure where it came from (possibly King Lear?). When we found out we were having twin boys instead, it came as a shock (of course) and as an immense relief. I was a terror for my parents, especially in the teen years, if you know what I mean (and I know you know what I mean). Boys, by contrast to girls, seem to be a lot less complicated.

So having two four-year-olds who are mopey - it's God's perfect brilliant plan. I'll be missing out on the teen girl terror years and am instead being punished NOW by apathy. Their little limp bodies, defeated on the floor - no Wii, no fruit snacks, no MORE FREAKING GOLDFISH (yes, we are harsh parents) - are my sweet little albatrosses for now.

Can I look forward to clear skies soon? Time will tell.

Christmas

Christmas has come and gone. It was great. Back to work today after a week and half off. So hard to go back. So hard to write complete sentences.

True to form, the boys got sick just in time for the holidays. They spent their time alternating between manic energy and bottomless crashes. I think between the two of them, they ate two goldfish and four pistachio nuts with a glass of orange juice over a three day period.