I think I heard them and I think I need to go get them soon. I had a short break, I got them down by 2:00pm, we went to a super fun playdate this morning. After I put them down I came upstairs, planning on writing. But the shelves stared back at me, the low shelves, my anxiety and stress, I need to reduce the danger. I feel like I spend most of my spare time these days putting everything that’s on shelves into boxes behind locked doors. I barely write or paint anymore. I’m constantly locking things away, childproofing, and pulling Jack and Fiona out of sinks. I spend a lot of time thinking about what they’ll get into next. They’re so fast and able. It’s Insane. It’s driving me Insane, I’m always in fight or flight mode. When they are awake I have to constantly be on the move, simultaneously preparing snacks and meals, cleaning up, playing playdough with Fiona, pushing Jack on the swing or turning on Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, “Oh Tootles” or is it “Toodles?” “We need to find a mouskatool” How silly. I never watched Mickey Mouse as a little kid, my mom was anti- Disney. I have to admit I’m intrigued by the sick shit, which it really is. Especially the way none of the mouse’s have teeth. And how Minnie and Daisy Duck have eyelashes and big butts, heals, and bloomers sticking out. Did Minnie or Daisy ever have baby ducks? Now I know how moms can become totally absorbed in their children. I said it would never happen to me, that I was strong enough, but sometimes I feel like giving in, just being a mom. It takes so much energy, especially now. I think until they are three. I’ll still write and paint, but I’m not putting myself on a strict schedule for a while, a few months. The babies are awake now. Something happened a few minutes ago. I’m so paranoid, I heard a door screech. I thought there was someone in the house. I got a knife and walked out of the kitchen down the hall quietly holding the knife out like I was in a horror film. I realized it was only the bathroom door that had creaked. It’s a breezy afternoon. Kind of spooky afternoon. I put the knife back and then I started to worry about the knives, what if the babies get to the knives. I started trying to find a practical place to store the knives and nowhere worked. I started to panic before I was able to pull myself away from my own paranoia. It was intense. Now I have to go get them.
Category: introspection
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I grab the two zip lock baggies out of the fridge, one marked “Fiona” one marked “Jack”, walk over to the trash can cringing, “I’m sorry, I feel bad” I say to myself. I toss the bags with half eaten chocolate bunnies in the trash. I shove them down below the empty boxes of Chinese food, pieces of strawberries, used tea bags, and slimy yogurt. I don’t want Jack or Fiona to see that I’ve thrown away the rest of their candy from yesterday, the candy that is rightfully theirs to enjoy to the last bite. But as I watched my children eat candy all weekend and the grand finale last night, an ice cream cone before bed, I said “Starting tomorrow, NO MORE CANDY!” (My husband and I included) “Except on Sundays”. I knew my indoctrination of Easter had gone too far, when yesterday, as Jack opened his golden wrapped bunny with a little red bow around its neck, revealing not a toy bunny, but an edible chocolate creature, Jack gasped, then said, “OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!” and bit off its little head, chocolate smeared all over his face and hands. Definitely making it on Jacks top ten moments of his first two years of life.

On Saturday, every time I mentioned that “The Easter Bunny is Coming Tonight” Jack would say, “Scary???” and I laughed. The Bunny costume at the park that morning was REALLY scary!! But on Sunday morning when they woke up to stuffed bunnies and chocolate candies I think the memory of Easter will be a good one, not a scary one. I don’t know why I love Easter so much, my mom always did the Easter Baskets, maybe that’s why? I love little animals and chocolate too! And now so do my children. I know it’s probably sacrilegious the way I carried on about Easter, not a mention of Jesus, Good Friday, or Purim. And now I’ve taught my son to say “Oh My God”, not on purpose, I’ve been trying to insert Gosh instead of God, but I guess I’m not consistent enough. Like they say “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”