Tuesday, August 26, 2008


I moved my girls into the same bedroom over the weekend. I decided to do this for several reasons, not the least of these being that I am determined that these girls are going to have a good relationship if by nothing more than the sheer force of my will. The perk to this sleeping arrangement is that it gave us space to turn the other room into a playroom. For all their crap. Mounds and piles and OMFG can you believe how much crap two people with less than five years combined time on this earth have?

There was much sorting/cleaning/moving/donating/setting objects on fire and rolling them down a hill to do and trying to do that with two toddlers? Impossible. So we enlisted the help of one of The Godfathers, Uncle Anthony and under the guise of Quality Time, off they went Saturday. Much was accomplished and all was well. I realized that evening that there was lots of purchasing of organizational implements to be done, AKA: The Bins. Many, many of The Bins. I ended up taking Roob with me as Goldie was otherwise engaged with Screaming. And shattering eardrums. In her defense, The Screaming was induced by a traumatic injury of a gougey nature to her Achilles tendon and while warranted, The Screaming was sure to be unwelcome by the friendly folks at our local Target.

I digress. Shopping. Yes. Ruby and me and Expedition Buy the Effing Bins That Match The Other Effing Bins That We Already Have. We ended up on a 3 Target tour spanning 2 hours that coincidentally covered both the hour in which she is normally fed and the hour in which she goes to bed. Because I called the toll free number within the next twenty minutes, the universe threw Unmedicated Teething into the mix to keep things interesting. I made the best of the situation. If you happened to be shopping in any Target located on Portland's East side, yes, indeed I was the unwashed woman pushing the cart full of Rubbermaid Bins, complete with mostly naked toddler sticky with her dinner of blue raspberry Icee and popcorn who was sucking on a bottle of Jet Dry.

The girls spent the next day with their favorite almost-big-sisters Blair and Paigey (Lord knows why college girls want to spend their Sunday with two people whose idea of a good time involves a cardboard box and a plastic firefighter hat.) The resulting sleeping/playroom areas are nothing short of amazing.

Today I put them in their beds for a nap. They took that opportunity to remove the window shade, strip their sheets and get naked while laughing uncontrollably. I was furious. GIRLS!! IT IS NOT TIME FOR PLAYING, IT IS TIME FOR SLEEPING! STOP GIGGLING! THAT'S IT, GOLDIE, GET IN THE OTHER ROOM WITH YOUR PILLOW FOR NAP.

So, basically I got mad at them for taking the opportunity of forced closeness to, you know get close.

*hits forehead*


Anonymous Anonymous said...

lol, sometimes we are our own worst enemies, hmmm? We Worship at the Altar of the Rubbermaid Bin. I swear I buy those things by the dozen. All sizes. Every time I go to Target I ask DH if he needs anything and he always says "Rubbermaid bins." I'm beginning to think I should just buy them direct from the factory by the pallet.

Where can I get some of those college kids? Do they sell THOSE at Target? Cause I need me some.

9:47 AM  

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