I QUIT!!!

Aggghhhhhh! That’s it, I quit! I resign as a twin Mommy. It’s over. They have only themselves to blame. They have brought this on their naughty little twinnie selves.

It’s 10am, and I am ready to throw in the towel. The girls are napping, I am venting. Big time. The morning started out okay. Lulu and Mumu ate their oatmeal with gusto. And my oatmeal, and Jungledad’s oatmeal, but that’s par for the course. The madness began the moment Jungledad pulled out of the driveway. They were saving it up for me yo.

After dual meltdowns over Daddy’s departure, Mumu tackled me on the couch, where I stupidly sat drinking tea. The tea soaked my clean shirt and hurt like a bastard because it was hot tea. Whatever. Over it, didn’t even change. The girls ran off to the kitchen. I naively thought their silence might mean they were playing with their toys in there, and I started mopping the spilled tea off the couch and rug. Then I heard it. It sounded like a waterfall. In my kitchen.

I arrive on the scene to find Mumu screaming and frantically shaking an enormous box of wheat macaroni, while Lulu gleefully ice skates over the mess, pausing only to stuff the uncooked mac in her mouth. Aggghhh, mother$%#er! What evs, leap into action, on all fours picking up macaroni while Lulu continues to spread it to every corner of the kitchen. Pry it off her feet, out of her mouth, put the 10,000 pieces in a bowl. Am just dropping final pieces in when I see out of the corner of my eye, Mumu tugging a cord. Drop the bowl of mac and dive across the kitchen to catch Jungledad’s ipod as it hurtles toward the floor. Why on earth would he leave it on the counter !? Mumu bursts into tears at being thwarted, while Lulu joyfully overturns the bowl of macaroni I just spent a lifetime gathering. On top of it all, the kitchen is filled with the unmistakable scent of turd.

I grab Mumu and bring her to the living room to be changed. Wrestle her down amidst her wailing and get diaper off. Diaper is clean. Wrong baby. Put her down, grab Lulu, wrestle her down. Her spider limbs are everywhere. She manages to get not one, but TWO hands into her runny, smelly, disgusting poo. Then wipes them on the couch before I get to her with a wipe. Am about to clean couch and baby when I notice something shiny out of the corner of my eye. Mumu has scaled bookshelf. She brandishes a shiny dime in her hot little hand. In slow motion I see it headed for her mouth.

Get there in time, seize dime, pry baby off bookshelf. Run back over to other baby, who is drawing with poop on the couch. Mumble several unladylike words, scrub hands of poopy baby. Put both babies down for nap. Collapse on bed and vent via blog post. Hear babies fussing in cribs, but care not. Resign post as Twin Mommy, effective immediately.