Disney, twins, and why these two aren't compatible.

So we just got back from Disneyland late Monday night and I must say that if I thought I had cankles before, I should have shut my mouth until I saw my legs after walking around Mickey's palace of inconsiderate Euro trash for 2 straight days. All in all it was a great vacation; little guy got to go on a ton of rides, had breakfast with Goofy, and got to meet the main mouse himself. My only complaint is how horrible people are sometimes. If we weren't having people jump ahead of us in line for things like character photos or food, we were having to fight people for seats on the trolley that took us to and from the hotel each day. Mind you, most of the people at the hotel were couples enjoying Disneyland without the thrills of a 3 yr. old or being very pregnant so it was quite annoying that they thought they needed to stiff arm us out of the way for seats. Fabulous manners. Just perfect.
Anyway, as we left the wonderful world of magic late Monday morning, I took note of the souvenirs I'd be bringing home with me: Christmas ornament? Check. Photo frame? Check. Sunburn, Flintstone feet, and an out of whack spine? Check, check, and check. With everything in the car, we decided to bite the bullet and drive the extra half hour north to Hollywood. With two extra kids coming, who knows when we'd have the chance to see it again? Let me tell you, Hollywood Blvd. is a dump! Surrounding the world famous Grauman's Chinese and Kodak theaters are souvenir shops, various eateries, and a lovely smattering of skanky lingerie and shoe shops that I think should just collectively be in one building entitled "Hos Unlimited." I kid you not when I say the only people wearing this stuff are strippers and hookers because this crap made Frederick's of Hollywood look like Target. This stuff didn't just scream, "I'm a sure thing!" It screamed, took out ads in every newspaper, and had neon lights flashing, "Not only am I sure thing, but bring all your friends. Seriously. Everyone you know." The creepiest thing of all were the street performers. There were various men and women who may/may not have been on a work release program dressed up as Spiderman, Elmo, a poor man's Mickey and Minnie, and my least favorite, Michael Jackson. Of all the people to impersonate, is this a wise choice? Even better? Despite a sign in front of Grauman's saying that these people weren't in any way affiliated with the theater, people were letting their little kids take pictures with these possible freaks! Call me over protective, but it just seems like common sense to not let some stranger who isn't getting paid to do this hug on your child.
For those of you wondering about the house.....I failed. I knew I would so I'm glad I didn't let myself down. While the laundry was completed, we left the house in only semi-clean shape and now I'm having to start from square one all over again. Maybe I'll start tomorrow afternoon. I've got coupons to clip and bargains to catch up on from some of my favorite bargain hunting blogs that I'll add on to my list later.

Chell-o cankles!

So Brad gets home tomorrow afternoon and I've got a feeling I'm not going to clean until, oh, say 11 am tomorrow. SLACKER! Unfortunately one of the best movies ever made is currently occupying my time (Empire Records) and there is a serious batch of rocky road sandwiches that the little guy and I made last night that the babies are craving. No, I'm not eating them for me. How could you even suggest such a thing? Whatever the twins want the twins get, and if that happens to be Mallow cream sandwiched between delicious chocolate chip and almond cookies, then so be it! I will suffer for them for I am their mother and it is what I do. Seriously, I'm going to be put up for sainthood for this kind of sacrifice.
I had the horrible experience of trying on maternity clothes today since I am in desperate need of shorts. It hasn't been this big of a fiasco in the past because, well, I didn't look like I was harboring several children under my shirt. Now it does. In fact, my own husband is starting to poke fun at me because not only do I feel miserably huge but I look it, too. No one and I mean NO ONE should have to be pregnant during the summer in Arizona. With temperatures already reaching the high 90s and, at times, topping 100, it's a special kind of hell that makes me fear what kind of swelling I'll be experiencing come June. For the first time in my life, I've got an up close and personal view of the phenomenon some like to call "cankles." They aren't the sexy commodity you might have previously believed. No, no. They're disgusting and they make your legs look bad in any kind of short, skirt, or pant imaginable. This fantastic ankle swelling accompanied by the fact that I look like I'm ready to pop any day now made for a fabulous mope/cry in the dressing room at Motherhood. Little guy, sitting quietly on the floor playing with some complimentary blocks, looks up at me and says,
"Hey mommy, what'sa matta?"
"Nothing, baby. Mommy's fine. I'm just-"
"Shake it off, Mommy."
For someone that just turned 3, he's brilliant.

Cleaning and other annoyances

So I got a crazy idea this evening to follow my to-do list that my book insists is a part of every domestic goddess's arsenal. I do nothing but chase a 3 yr. old around all day and I am keeping a day planner like my schedule is so chalk full that I just couldn't possibly pencil anything frivolous in. I'm obviously much too important. Anyway, I'm looking at my joke of a to-do list (i.e. make cookies, drink a gallon of water, water strawberries. I'm trying so hard just to fill up lines!) and I see something that isn't so ridiculous; mop. Being in the southwest we've got tile floors throughout most of our house and between a preschooler, three dogs, and my clumsy butt, they need to be swept and mopped at least once a day. I almost get excited at the prospect of doing something productive and something other than watching reruns of The Office and Sex and the City. I busily begin to pick up my son's Thomas cache that I forgot to make him pick up before I put him to bed (yeah, I'm sure this is exactly the kind of parenting that started me down my path of filth) and move around some of the lighter furniture so that I can have complete access to the floors. I sweep and vacuum the oriental rug, Swiffer my now debris free tile and begin to move the furniture back to its proper place. The last piece, the cocktail table that I loved up until an hour ago, decided to move diagnally instead of straight back and took off my toe nail in the process. Not only did I get the joy of bleeding like a stuck pig for...oh....wait for it....I'm still oozing, but it hurt and while attempting to bolt to the guest bath the dogs were suddenly under the impression that I wanted to play so I had all three of those dopes chasing after me.
On another note, is anyone else completely irritated and annoyed by those stupid Disaronno commercials? I can't figure out which I hate more; those, the old Old Navy commercials with Molly Sims, or the Kay Jeweler commercials (if my husband acted like those idiots I'd throw the diamonds back at him and tell him to grow a pair).
Well, I think I've spread enough sunshine this evening.

She cleaned....and it was good.

I ended up staying up until 1 am last night enjoying my guilty pleasure (the trash-tastic Fox Reality channel) and sprucing up my living room and kitchen. I also got to read the next two chapters in my current literary love, "Absolutely Organized for Moms." It's got a lot of good ideas and I've got a lot of good intentions that I'll be paving the road to hell with. I am absent a nesting gene. While pregnant with little guy, I got the urge to clean really well for about a day or so. Unfortunately I was on bed rest and this wasn't an option. Brad and I ended up straightening up the house while I was enjoying extremely painful contractions about 8 hours before I gave birth. I'm trying really hard to make this pregnancy different but I always find something "better" to do. For instance; why should I do the dishes when I can screw around on Stumbleupon? Why clean the kitchen when I can make rocky road sandwiches with the cutest little kitchen helper there ever was? Why clean out the playroom to make room for a nursery? Well, there's babies coming, that's why. And it's my job. And I'm an adult and I should take on some responsibility. Should a 25 year old really be having to tell herself that?
Anywho, the house is coming along inspite of my heels being dug firmly into the land of "I'll do whatever I damn well please." I also ran my fun little mommy chores this morning: post office, bank, film drop-off, etc. Jealous much? Brad comes home in t-minus 2 days and I will have this house looking spectacular. Wish me luck!

Here we go....

At 30 weeks pregnant, I really have no patience to try my hand at new things but I figure I'll give blogging a shot. This is the 3rd time in just as many weeks my husband has had to be out of town and I'm getting bored. Luckily for me (not to mention my son who's probably tired of hearing mommy's whining about playing trains....again!) Brad gets home Thursday and then it's off to the happiest place on earth. No, not a secluded beach with an open bar. Disneyland. This will be our first real family vacation. I say real because this is the first time we've traveled where our only motives are to relax, enjoy ourselves, and unwind a tiny bit before the boys make their debut. Every other "vacation" (and I do use that term loosely) has been due to us moving to another state or some other wrench in life that we've decided to make the best out of. Our little guy is so excited. He just about flipped his lid today when the UPS guy dropped off our documents for the park and resort today. "Bisneylam," he calls it. It's so cute I can't even bring myself to correct him.
Time at the tone is 10:34 pm and I have yet to make good on the promise to myself to at least get my living room and kitchen looking presentable today. Things I have accomplished: kick counts, eating 2 popsicles, a nap, the dishes, and making dinner. Oh, I suppose I can check "start fancy new blog" off my list as well. Other things I should have gotten done but have procrastinated on: ordering a co-sleeper for the boys (it's a must if you're going to breastfeed or if you're simply a complete spaz about whether or not your baby is breathing...I fall into both categories), changing the sheets and duvet on our bed (sooner than needed, but all 3 of our dogs insist on sneaking up into Brad's spot when he's not home), and taking our son to the pool. Of course, me taking my son to the pool would also involve me having to squeeze my oh-so-pregnant-with-twins belly into my super cute lycra circus tent swimsuit. Is it really procrastination or simply avoidance? You make the call. More tomorrow, I've got a house to negotiate with.