It’s never too cold to go to the beach.
Just throw on a tweed dress, some pearls, and the right attitude.
You can always run to keep warm.
Fly a kite
Or take a detour to the wetlands
Where Mommy will snuggle the cold away.
Posted in The Joy of Twins, tagged days when you want to trade in your children for delicious italian food and wine on November 19, 2010 | 4 Comments »
Today the town passed an ordinance banning my children from public playgrounds, because they behaved so abominably at ALL of them.
Today my girls screamed so loud, for so long, a filling fell out. It’s a wonder my brain didn’t.
Today I met a teenage full-blown psychopath on a woodsy trail. Thankfully, he was repelled by Mumu’s patented psychopath repelling bellow.
Today the bottom of my shoe fell off a mile from home. Thanks a heap, New Balance!
Today I asked Mumu to bring me a book, and she tore the cover off.
That’s it, I’m moving to Australia.
Or maybe Italy. The food’s better there. I’m going to trade both my children for a pound of prosciutto and a bottle of Chianti.
It’s been exactly 33 months since I was last bored.
I was thinking about this fact as I stood in my driveway in the pouring rain, at the crack of dawn, watching my daughter tap on the car window from inside, with keys she had snatched, then used to lock her parents out.
I wanted to climb under the car and wait for it to be over. Then the police showed up.
The girls woke up at 3am, and in an inexplicable regression to infancy, refused to go back down. Let’s just take them for a drive, I said. Awesome idea. Got them dressed in the manifold layers required of this climate (no easy task, as they are tropical babes at heart) and sent them down with their father to get into the car while I threw on some jeans and found my mittens. By the time I got down, I saw my husband standing out in the rain, the girls in the car, Mumu doing some strange E.T. routine with my husband, both of them touching fingertips on either side of the driver’s window. He was laughing, then. He thought that through gesturing, he could get her to unlock the car door. Wrong.
We began to feel cold, the girls started yelling. I could hear my husband on the phone with Geico, his British accent, “Massachusetts is a densely populated state. I simply do not believe the nearest mechanic is an hour away.” I pressed my head against the roof of the dripping Jeep, crying, thinking–this is not a good first impression to make on the neighborhood. Stood there wishing for a boring morning, like I imagine in other households, where everyone gets up at a reasonable time, eats cereal, and gets on with the day.
It took ages, but we were on our way eventually, nerves all jangled. Hit the drive thru for some sausage egg McMuffin therapy, then hit the nature reserve down the road. It was freezing, windy, but quiet and lovely. No one around. We pointed out a beaver lodge to the girls, we wandered down long paths. We saw an enormous owl, sitting in a tree, watching us. It flew away. So beautiful.
The other day, my husband brought the girls home from the playground, Lulu drenched, though it wasn’t raining. Did you take her swimming? I asked. “Actually,” he replied, “It was kind of spectacular…” He didn’t have to explain, I already knew. It had poured the day before, and at the bottom of the biggest slide in the playground, the one on the pirate ship, by the two enormous stone dolphins, was a puddle of rainwater a good foot deep. Through great vigilance, I managed to keep her out of it the day before, but then, with her father…well, you know how men are…very distractable. Lulu saw her window, and went for it. The water sprayed all across the playground, one huge tidal wave, even hitting the swings. The other families were stunned. They’ll be telling their grandchildren about it. Spectacular.
My girls were raised in a jungle, and sometimes, they act it. This gets us a lot of baffled looks, some disapproving, but sometimes words of support–at unlikely times, in unlikely places. The other day, I was pushing the stroller down the trail that leads to the wind turbine, in the rain, both girls fussing, when a woman with red hair stopped and smiled at us. “Are they twins?” Yes. “Mine are 35. It gets easier.” Thank you.
Today, Lulu rolled all they way down a large, prominent, leaf-covered hill in town. She and her Daddy then walked around the nearby pond. An older woman stopped my husband as he started to leave, “Did she enjoy her roll?” My husband grimaced. Rolling is not the type of thing done around here. Kids are more refined, well-mannered, well-dressed. Not raised by mongooses, like mine. Bracing himself for a bollocking, he stammered, “Oh…you saw that?” “Yes,” she answered, “and I thought it was wonderful.” She went on to say that parents don’t let their kids have fun anymore, get muddy and scraped and naughty, when those are the best things about childhood. Thank you, Lady.
We drove to the beach today to see the sunset. Had a massive dance contest on the wooden walkway leading to the surf. Scared off a young couple, pissed off all the seabirds, and had a marvelous time.
I have a feeling my girls will get me into a lot of trouble as time goes on, and I have my doubts they will ever be genteel. But at least they’re not boring. Boring is overrated. I’ll try to remember that next time.