"Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?"

Yes, even Matthew realized circa 70 A.D. that one should really not be judging others when they have a plank the size of Nebraska in their own eye that should be removed. What am I talking about? Something that every parent does when they think they have well - behaved children. I call it comparitive parenting.

What exactly is comparative parenting, you may ask? Let me give you an example. Picture yourself at a department store, any department store really, GAP, Kohls, Macy's, whatever, the name is interchangeable. You could be at Nordstroms and it really doesn't matter. It's the scenario that counts. You are casually shopping with your one child in the stroller. Said child is perfectly content to look through pictures in a book, point out bright colors in the store, etc. etc. All of a sudden you hear a scream, then a "No!" Quickly followed by the sound of something crashing to the floor and shattering into a million little pieces (no reference to James Frey intended).

Suddenly everybodies eyes are on HER. That's right HER. The mom in the store suddenly looking mortified that her child is THE CHILD that is having a complete meltdown in a public setting. Said mom is now capitulating to her child's every demand while looking furtively around to see who is watching. Which, generally speaking, tends to be several blue haired old ladies who definitely "knew better in their day," or other moms that, A. cast a sympathetic eye because they themselves have been there or B. cast a judgmental eye because they have never had the opportunity of parenting a devil child that won't listen to a single word you say no matter how many "time outs" they are given.

Unfortunately, I am ashamed to say, I used to fall under category B. That's right, I would soak up every glorious compliment about how well - behaved my children were and how good they are. Reveling in the pride of having excellent children that I could take out in public and compare to other not nearly as wonderful children. Other children would make scenes, have "melt downs," or just plain not listen to their parents. Of course, I would say how normal it was for these things to happen to their children, but all the while knowing that I would never allow my own children to behave in this manner. After all, I am an excellent parent.

Yes, I admit it, I had a plank the size of Nebraska in my eye that was about to have a tornado rip right through the center of that state. This tornado hit on a beautiful late afternoon at our local middle to upper middle class park where well dressed mom's brought their well dressed children to play while most of us checked our blackberries, cell phones, or gossipped about which pre-school we were most likely going to send our children to in the fall.

I decided to take my three children to the park on a whim on the way home from a play date that my oldest son had been to earlier that day. I happened to run into two co-workers who have one child each and either just had their second or was about to have their second. I struck up a conversation with another mom and watched as I quickly went from category B to HER. I bypassed right through option A, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, just become HER.

We had been at the park for about oh, ten minutes, when my oldest announced that he "had to go potty." Now, there are no potties at this particular park, so I told him to hold it while I continued my conversation with a new mom that I had just met that was pregnant with twins. I, of course was dispensing all sorts of wisdom, as I myself am a mother of two year old twins and a five year old. Who better to give the wisdom of parenting than myself? After all, I am super parent.

Meanwhile, twin #1 had climbed up the slide that was about 15 feet high and was attempting to give it a go all by himself. Twin #2 was attempting to climb monkey bars that looked decidedly too dangerous to be climbing by himself. Oh, and did I mention that my five year old had taken it upon himself to drop his pants and pee all over the tree that was planted in memory of some local beneficiary?

I immediately asked the mom that I was in the midst of dispensing my nuggets of wisdom to, to "excuse me for a minute. "

"Pull up your pants!!!" I said, "pull up your pants! You can't pee wherever you want to!"
My son immediately turns around without pulling his pants up first, so you can imagine what everyone in the park got a huge eyeful of. Then proceeds to say, "But mooommmm, I told you I had to go and YOU wouldn't take me!" with his shorts in a pile at his feet.
At the same time I am struggling to get twin#1 off of the 15 ft. high slide while yelling at twin #2 to "come over here RIGHT NOW!"

At this point my two co-workers are looking at me with the very same look that I used to have when observing other moms in this position. Pity mixed with fear. The fear being that one day, this may be them.

I quickly look back at my children and scream, "We need to go bye bye's now! Pull up your pants, no I don't have any hand sanitizer and we are getting the twins and leaving." I am saying all of this to my oldest while attempting to carry twin #1 and hold/drag twin #2 across the carefully mulched play area to our minivan.
All the while, twin #1 is shouting,"No mommy, NOOOOO!" and twin #2 is attempting to kick twin #1 from his position of power on my hip.
Then twin #1 decides that he is going to refuse to walk any more and if I want him to leave I am going to have to make him. I finally manage to cajole my children into the van and while attempting to wrangle twin #2 into the carseat, twin #1 takes off down the sidewalk back towards the playground. My oldest has pulled his pants up long enough to point out the fact that twin #1 is heading towards the street.

As I chase down my third child and finally get everyone safely loaded into the minivan and we head home for the night, I look over the tornado that just passed through our lives and realize that despite the public humiliation that seems to follow us wherever we travel, my eyes are finally clear.

TDD (Otherwise known as The Diaper Disaster)

You know, being a mother of twins, one has to deal with higher costs than those of singletons. For example, double the cost of formula, diapers, clothes, food, milk, toys, etc. Which is why on the afternoon of May 24th, I was, shall we say it nicely, pretty teed off at my two lovely boys. Not only do mothers of twins have to deal with higher costs, but we have double the tantrums, double the "mine" and "no" (see former blog entry with the same title), and the impossibility of simultaneously capturing and containing two kids that look exactly the same running in two different directions.
Add it all up and you have TDD (The Diaper Disaster). The afternoon of May 24th began like any other day, with the exception that I was cleaning my bathroom and I was trying to get it finished before the twins woke up from their afternoon nap. Now, I did not undertake this process until way too late in the day, which meant that the twins were awake in their crib for about 30 minutes before I was able to get them. Normally, this would be no big deal, again with the exception of the trash can incident (see former blog entry entitled Sharpie: Both Friend and Foe).

By this time I am sure you are wondering, What was she thinking? Doesn't she know her own kids by now? I've only read a few posts and I know that twins + lack of supervision even in the face of containment= disaster. Yes, even the 1948 Marshall Plan's policy of containment would not have helped in this particular scenario, George not withstanding.

What can I tell you, all I wanted to do was clean the freakin' toilet!!!! It wasn't like I was watching Oprah or painting my toenails. Nooooooooo, I was wiping my other son's pee from his absence of aim off of the toilet that my husband and I share. Which is kind of ironic considering what I was about to discover.

So, all of this leads to the following scenario. After 30 minutes of being awake in their cribs with no supervision, I finish up the toilet and head in to their room to change their diapers and take them downstairs. As I get closer to their door, I begin to smell something ominous eminating from their bedroom.

Now mind you, I haven't even opened the door yet!

A feeling of dread begins to brew in my stomach and as the door opens, I almost vomit with the stench of excrement.

Yes, you guessed it, poop, lots and lots of poop. Poop on the walls, poop on the crib sheet, poop on the crib. Crap, excrement, Bowel movement, whatever. POOP everywhere.

It was at that particular moment that I longed for the 80's Calgon commercial. Take me away, Calgon, take me far, far away. Preferably in a bubble bath with someone feeding me milk duds. No, forget the duds, they remind me too much of the aforementioned incident. Switch it to a nice glass of pinot grigio.

Anyway, Twin #1 had taken great pleasure in removing his pants, closely followed by a fully loaded poopy diaper. He had also obviously had just as much fun smearing said diaper deposits all over the wall, crib sheets, crib and I'll save the best for last, himself. My one saving grace was that Twin #2 had begun to mimic the actions of his brother but had only gotten as far as removing half of his fully loaded diaper. His onesie was partially removed, but he appeared to have encountered technical difficulties while trying to get it off of his arms after he had pulled it up and over his head. So it looked as if he was wearing it behind his neck, yet still worn over his arms and shoulders.
Both boys were obviously very proud of their efforts as evidenced by their huge grins as I walked in.

" Mommy, poopy, bachy, bachy poopy." Now, for my PA Dutch followers, you will appreciate the use of the term bachy. Yes, my speech delayed twins regularly substitute PA Dutch words into their somewhat limited vocabulary.

Bachy- def. A word regularly used in the PA Dutch vernaculuar, i.e. dirty, messy, yucky. Quite the understatement given the situation.

However, the icing on the cake, the cherry on the sundae, the "ah ha" moment, if you will, occured when I went to pick twin #1 out of his crib. As I stepped forward to lift my adorable little child out of his crib, my stocking foot was met with the sudden feeling of moisture soaking into the polycotton blend.

Yes, again you probably realize what was happening before I did. The little stinker had chosen to pee out of his crib all over the nicely carpeted floor.

So basically, my day consisted of cleaning up bathrooms, designated or otherwise.