Overheard

I know. This is annoying and kind of a little rude — my once-a-week post asking you to go to another site to read my post. Especially considering there are so many other bloggers doing this once-a-day NaNoo-NaNooBloMe thing. But if I write everyday I might bore you to tears, so you should really be thanking me. (You’re welcome.)

Now go click on my Parenting post. Because I’m rude like that.

Today: some of the funny statements heard around here lately. They’re our kids so of course we think they are funny. Well whaddya want… We’re parents. Our entertainment has been scaled down to reality TV and the humor of a couple of 3-year-olds. Give us a break.

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Halloween Costumes

I knew it would happen. I knew eventually I would have to let the kids choose their own Halloween costumes. I was hoping I could get away with one more year of parental control. Alas, I had to give it up once they noticed me shopping online without them. (Damn, my window-hiding mouse finger just isn’t as quick as it used to be when I was working in an office!)

Click here to read one of our costume-choosing conversations. I say ONE because… well… it’s never that simple.

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P.S. I really am going to post more soon. Hopefully once Halloween is over and once some other (paying) projects are complete. There are some questions to answer! (Jenn, I will answer, I swear!)

Scene From A Car Ride

As the kids climb into the car after school today, Buddy spots a toy (courtesy of a Happy Meal, thank you very much) that he left in his carseat this morning.

Buddy: Hey look, there’s my toy!

Me: Okay, you can play with it for a little while, and then you have to share it with Bean.

Buddy: Um… Actually. I don’t think I can. I think actually I have to share it tomorrow.

Me: Actually, I think you can share it today. Play with it for a few minutes and then share it with Bean please.

Buddy: Okay.

After a few minutes, he hands it to Bean. Another minute passes, and a tidal wave of every compelling argument he has up his sleeve begins.

Buddy: Bean, you have to share.
…Bean, sharing is caring!
…Bean, see my hand? [extends his arm towards her] That means I’m waiting!
…Bean, just one more minute, okay? One more minute and then it’s my turn.

Bean: Um… I think ten minutes.

Buddy: No, just one minute, Bean.

Bean: Oh. Okay.

Finally, she reaches to hand it to him. I hear a piece of it fall in the box that sits between them. (Technically, it’s a diaper box — because *ahem* we are nothing but class, baby — that keeps books and toys handy.)

Buddy and Bean: Oh no!

Buddy: Where is it? [Searches all around him. Apparently inanimate objects can fly over his head and land on his other side.]

Bean: I don’t know. Where’dit go?

Buddy: There it is, Bean! [looks in the box] There it is!

Bean: Oh!

Buddy [huffing]: I. Can’t. Reach. It. Ugh… Help me, Bean! Can you help me please?

Bean: Okay. [huffing also] Buddy! Get out of the way, okay?

A few quiet seconds pass. Suddenly I hear objects crashing down. I peer in the mirror and see that Bean has lifted the box and spilled the contents all over herself and the car floor. She manages to find the missing piece amongst the rubble. Then holds it in the air.

Bean: Ta da!

Buddy starts giggling. Then laughing. Then guffawing. Big. Belly. Laughs. Which makes me laugh.

Bean [realizing Buddy is punchy, and not one to miss an opportunity with an attentive audience]: TA DA!

Buddy laughs even harder. Which makes me laugh harder.

Bean: Is that funny, guys? Guys, is that funny? …Ta da! TA DAAAA!

Being a parent to twins is so worth it when we get to eavesdrop on their conversations. I think about those months when I sat silently by myself, with no one to talk to while I changed, nursed, burped, pumped, repeat. They were all worth it. Just so I can sit silently now and listen to them carry on their own conversation. Really, there’s not a lot funnier than listening to your kids negotiate with one another.

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By the way, thanks to all you Mofos for delurking. And… um, hellooooo…

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Gender 101: How To Raise Confused Kids

Bean: “When I grow up, I’m going to pee standing up!”

Buddy: “And when I grow up, I’m going to wear a dress!”

(Huh. Okay… that’s cool.)

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In the bathtub:

Buddy, pointing to Bean: “Hey, what happened to your p8nis??” Bean looks down to check.

(They take baths together every night. He just noticed? And… what is she looking for?)

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Kids 101: How To Give Your Parents A Heart Attack

Over Labor Day weekend, while away at our friend’s summer cabin, we all decided to take the kids to the pool. Buddy was in front of the group with G. He walked right up to the edge of the pool, paused for a moment, and without any notice — with his shoes and shirt still on — jumped right into the deep end.

He can’t swim.

G jumped in after him — backpack and all — swam down to a quickly sinking Buddy, grabbed him and pulled him up to the surface.

This happened so fast I don’t think I moved. I froze as if I was watching it on a movie screen and had no influence on the scene at all, except to watch it unfold. When he was lifted out of the pool, he cried and cried, scared absolutely shitless. Somehow he managed not to swallow any water, as he wasn’t choking or complaining about his nose hurting or anything, so maybe G showing the kids how to hold their breath and blow bubbles in the bathtub paid off in some way. Or, maybe it was just instinct.

When we asked him later why he jumped in the pool, he answered: “Because I jumped in the pool.”

After five minutes of holding him (okay, clutching him and practically suffocating him), cocooned in a towel, he ceased crying and said, “Mommy I want to go in the pool now.” Well, okay then.

He had a great time after that, seemingly unaffected by the FACT THAT HE HAD ALMOST JUST DROWNED.

I think G and I were still shaking at the end of the day. But, we’re thankful that we were all there (rather, I’m glad G was there as I seem to freeze during moments of pressure like I’m Cindy Brady on-air), and that Buddy was still willing to get in the pool after that and wasn’t traumatized, like I was.

Yesterday, I got the kids some down vests for the fall weather (if it ever arrives). Buddy was wearing his for awhile, looking like he couldn’t move. After several minutes, he asked me, “Mommy, this jacket is for the boat?”

First of all… no, you funny little bugger.
Second of all… what boat?

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A couple of weeks ago, I was parked on a busy street and needed to get the kids in the car. I had Buddy climb in first so he could get into his carseat, which was on the street side. While I was pushing his bum up, I glanced sideways and noticed Bean was no longer waiting patiently next to me, which she usually does.

I zoomed around the car door, looking for her on the sidewalk, then ran to the back of the car, and saw her about to step into oncoming traffic. I screamed at her, lunged and pulled her back, completely scaring her in the process.

She was confused that Buddy was getting in on her side, so she assumed she should go to the other side.

Before the twins were born, this was something I worried about constantly. I had read books about twins running in opposite directions in parking lots. So when they first started walking, I was a dictator about holding hands. Luckily, they usually never wander too far, and when we call them, they usually listen to us.

Just goes to show that I can’t assume anything. At all.

In the car after that, my heart was thumping.

I lectured them about running into the street, always staying close to me, never jumping into pools, etc. etc. (Actually, Buddy brought up the pool thing, since I was going down a checklist of things they should never do anyway.) I told them whenever they cross the street, they always have to hold an a-dolt’s hand. I told them they needed to hold my hand or Daddy’s hand. Then I asked them who else’s hands they thought they could hold.

Buddy offered, “We can hold Aunt FingKASIL’s hand!” (Clearly, not her real name. I thought FingKASIL would appreciate this —number three on the list of a-dolts! Awesome, considering they haven't seen her since they were 14 months old or so.)

Bean offered, ”We can hold S’s hand!” S (a friend of ours) is her crush — the one that causes her eyelashes to get all Betty Boopy.

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Lawd. I’m close to not bringing my kids out in public anymore.

When the kids were smaller and people said things to me like: “I don’t know how you do it, with twins,” I snorted and told them that our kids were going to grow up to be like those Flower in the Attic kids — i.e. three feet tall mutant adults from lack of sunshine or fresh air. I was too scared/tired/lazy to take them out by myself. I could usually tell if I would get along with people by their reaction to my joke.

But seriously. These kids! My heart is going to bust out of my chest soon.

Shit. With each passing day, all I learn about parenting… is that I really know jack shit about parenting.

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Mini Architects

The kids and I have been taking in the city during their time off between camp and school. So far we’ve hit Garfield Conservatory, The Notebaert Nature Museum, the Chicago History Museum, the Come In And Play Center, various commercial stores where they will play for hours, and walks up and down Michigan Ave. It’s great to act like a tourist in this city.

If you’re in Chicago and have kids, take them to the Come In And Play Center at the Chicago Cultural Center (open until September 30th). It’s like being in someone else’s rec room — someone WITH ALL THE GAMES IN THE WORLD, that is. Best of all, it’s free!

The kids built buildings out of Legos. Their final products perfectly capture their personalities.

Bean, channeling Howard Roark/Frank Lloyd Wright:

She does things her way and you can be sure there’s a reason for it. But if you don’t get it, it’s your problem. She shouldn’t have to explain anything to anyone.

Buddy, channeling Louis Kahn:

Our philosophizing, deliberate, little architect. And apparently a door was a waste of time and space.

(Momomax, don’t be laughing at my remedial architectural comparisons…)

I love how absolutely different they are. I love how they have their own styles. I love how they nod in respect at each other’s masterpieces, and then go back to doing their own thing, not influenced by the other.

I’m boiling it down to Legos, I know, but these really do capture them perfectly.

Just one more week before school begins. I’m looking forward to it, but having a lot of fun with them on our mini-expeditions.

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The other day, Buddy woke up from a nap and, groggy, stumbled over to me. I asked him if he slept well, and he nodded. Then I said, “Hey, we’re gonna go pick up Daddy from work soon. Is that okay? You up for it?”

He nodded, still groggy, squinting from the light. After rubbing his eyes and yawning, he started to wake up a little and then stood there, watching me as I brushed my hair.

Suddenly he looked confused. And concerned. He held up his hands in a half-shrug.

“Mom. We can’t pick up Daddy. He’s too heavy!”

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Overheard Lately

Buddy, angry because he didn’t want to stop playing and take a bath: “I’m so SICK OF THIS!” I think he swiped at a wall.

Whoops. Wonder where he learned this from?
[Note to self: Learn to channel frustration another way. *ahem* I don’t swipe at the wall, or anything else for that matter, though.]

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At 6am today, both kids:
“Daaa-aaad — I have a pooo-ooop! It’s your lu-cky daaaay!” Followed by much giggling.

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At camp, the kids learned that ‘Sharing is Caring.’ Now when they fight over something, it goes something like this: “But Mom, Iwantthis and Buddywon’tshare but sharingiscaring and Iwantthisplease, Ineedit.”

The other day Bean brought home a beaded necklace for me. Buddy tried to snatch it from me and I said, “Hey, this one is mine! And we don’t grab from each other.”

He looked up at me with those huge eyes and a coy smile and said, “But Mom… Sharing is caring.”

Oh Lawd.

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G (while we were being stupid one day) asked, “Hey Buddy, can you say: ‘To be, or not to be?’”

Buddy thought for a moment, then answered hopefully, “Um… not to be?”

Well… that was the question.

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One evening, I stood behind G and threaded my arms around him to pretend he had four arms. We did a stupid routine — the kind only very little kids would find funny — and the kids were laughing huge belly laughs.

Finally, Buddy said breathlessly, “I can’t… stop… LAUGHING!” and then, “You are CRACKING ME UP!”

So silly, those phrases. But when you hear your kids saying them for the first time, it is the cutest thing ever. EV. ER.

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Another viral video that made me laugh (especially the meeting interrupters): If Internet commenters held a business meeting.


Courtesy of CollegeHumor.

Overheard in B & B Land

Yes, it’s Thursday. I’m at Parenting.

Today: Overheard in Bean & Buddy Land
(aka Some Of The Funny Things They Have Said)
To be entirely confused with Overheard in NY/etc.

A sampling:

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…And Proud Of It, Dammit!

Me: Look at the dog! Isn’t he beautiful?
Buddy: Ooh… It’s black! It’s black!
Me: Yup. It’s black.
Buddy: I’m not black. I’m brown!
Me: Um, okay… [?]
Bean: And I’m not black! I’m yellow.

– Chicago, walking behind, yes, a black dog

Overheard by: I swear I didn’t teach them any of that
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More Overheard in B & B Land here.

APG

Today at Parenting: my fascination with APG (Alpha Playground Girl). You know what I’m talking about, right? The Alpha Kids we’ve all known at some point in our lives. Or maybe once were at some point in our lives. (I was more of a Sidekick/Beta or Omega Kid myself.)

There are also some random photos of the twins' odd fashion choices. They are in context. (Sort of kind of.) Really.

Join me over there today! Thanks.

Offsides

We came across these plastic glasses while packing for our move:


I have no idea where they came from. G is convinced they are my Dad’s. Because apparently my Dad looks like Benjamin Franklin.

They have officially been marked as a dress-up toy. Ben’s trash has become the twins’ treasure.

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Three people now have told me how much South Park Buddy looks like Real Life Buddy. And it’s true! Buddy’s head is adorably (disproportionately?) large and round. I guess our family tree includes a historic lookalike and a cartoon character.


One of the funniest scenes from a movie EVER:

Stuart Mackenzie: WILLIAM! MOVE YOUR HEED! Look at the size of that boy’s heed.
Tony Giardino: Shhh!
Stuart: I’m not kidding, it’s like an orange on a toothpick!
Tony: Shhh, you’re going to give the boy a complex!
Stuart: Well, that’s a huge noggin’! That’s a virtual planetoid! Has its own weather system!
Tony: Shh!
Stuart: HEED! MOVE!

Stuart: HEED! PAPER! NOW! Move that melon of yours and get the paper if you can! Haulin’ that gargantuan cranium about. I’m not kidding, that boy’s head’s like Sputnik! Spherical but quite pointy at parts. …Now that was offsides, wasn’t it? He’ll be crying himself to sleep tonight, on his huge pillow.

Buddy-isms

Since my post yesterday at Parenting was about The Bean, I thought it only fair to focus this post on Buddy. So here are some Buddy-isms (I’m taking a page from Superha’s Ash-isms. Thanks Superha and Ash!):

Buddy continues his quest to be ultra-attuned to emotions. This morning at camp I gave Bean a kiss goodbye and then walked over to Buddy who was looking around as if he was trying to decide on an activity. I pointed out one of his adorable camp mates who was also wandering a little aimlessly: “Why don’t you go play with [Wandering Boy]?” Buddy looked at WB for a moment, then turned to me and said matter-of-factly, “No, he’s too angry.”

Embarrassed that his parents might overhear, I looked around and quickly said, “No he’s not! [WB] is fine!” Then I caught the teacher’s eye, whose eyebrows were raised, clearly amused. She nodded at Buddy and quietly said, “He’s very perceptive.”

Doh! I smiled at her, gave Buddy a quick kiss and got the hell out of there.

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Everyday, I pick the kids up from camp and the three of us walk home. I can pick them up in the stroller, but I enjoy spending that time walking hand-in-hand, asking them about the fun things they did that day.

Yesterday, G came along to pick the kids up. On the way home, Buddy moaned that he was tired and asked G to pick him up. (Mind you, he never asks me to pick him up and always asks G to pick him up. Everywhere. Draw whatever conclusions you will with that info. It can go any way you want.) When the drama started, I said, “[Buddy], we walk home everyday and I never pick you up! Come on, you can —”

Buddy half-turned towards me and GAVE ME THE HAND. A flat-palmed, Whitney-fied, attitude-fueled, HAND. He interrupted me with furrowed brows, clearly peeved, “Mom, PLEASE. Don’t talk to me! Don’t talk to me, Mom.”

G and I looked at each other and double-Doh’d! Then laughed our asses off the rest of the way home.

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On the first day of camp, the teachers asked all the kids to help them make the “Class Rules,” then posted them in the hall for the parents to see. Bean’s rule was, “We all stay together.” The other kids’ rules were, “Share our toys,” and, “We should be nice to each other,” amongst others. This is Buddy’s:


If you know Buddy, you know that his eyes are huge (obviously not inherited from moi) and, while he has gotten better about it, he is occasionally prone to staring. Without blinking. In fact, he had a staring contest with Cluttered Mom once. And won. When he was about six months old. So, this was quite funny to us.

To be honest, I was a little surprised that Buddy even said that, so I asked the teacher about it. I guess he said, “Watch the teacher,” but she said she extrapolated since he kept pointing to his eyes. So I don’t think I can give him full credit for that one. Still, funny to us.

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The twins are LOVING camp and quite honestly, I’m a little scared about how they will react when it ends. Everyday they run into my arms when I pick them up and they ask immediately when they can come back. There’s nothing like seeing your kids so incredibly happy when you’re not around! In all seriousness, I love this place and I love their teachers and I’m grateful to them for making our kids so happy.

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Happy Friday everyone!