Day Three

And just like that, they're gone. Poof. And what have I done with my time? Bugger-all. I've done bugger-all with my time.

Litter box? Uncleaned.

Grocery store? Unshopped.

Dishes? Unscrubbed.

Novel? Unwritten.

Email? Unreplied.

Coffee? Okay, coffee's been drunk. Let's be serious here.

I think I have a disorder, some sort of Post Twins Stress Disorder. I pace my house, room to room, stepping over crap, wondering just where to start, and the time goes *whoop* just like that.

Imagine this: Imagine that one morning, zoo animals all awoke to find their fences gone, their cages open. What would they do? Yes, there would be those who noticed and immediately made a run for it, but I dare say that others would wake up and follow that same trail they had been walking for the past umpteen years. There would be mountain lions who would pace back and forth, padded feet falling in that same well-worn path. There would be tigers who got up, stretched, and lumbered around where the cage used to be, then went back to sleep in their old familiar place. And there would be the monkeys who continued to swing from the same sawed-off branches, following the same pattern they always followed and to whom, perhaps, the lack of cage would only become apparent when they realized they now had an unencumbered trajectory through which to hurl their poo at passersby. Guess which one I am.

While I'm pacing, though, I want to say a quick thanks to all those who have enjoyed and shared the video of the twins' first day of preschool. Your response has almost made the last two-and-a-half years with them worthwhile.

Not quite, but almost.

Comments

[Amber]

in all that pacing, you still haven't shed a tear? not one single tear?

guess it is just me. i am a sap.

[Holly]

I feel like that every time the boys go to spend some time with my parents... it takes me a few days to get used to it. Just my luck, though... by the time I'm used to the sensation of no kids around it's time to go get them again. *sigh* Here's hoping that sensation wears off soon!

[Amy]

You got LOTS done. You polished off several bottles of booze and lost a boodle of poker stakes to Webkins.

Besides, remember this: you get to do it all again next week. In just three days you'll be saying, TGIM!

[Tammy]

I just knew that was you throwing poo in my direction?

[The Whole Jackson]

As I was reading this, I thought, Oh please tell me this guy isn't comparing himself to a caged tiger. Sorry for doubting you. Poo-chucking monkey is much better.

[qwyneth]

You're totally not a pacing lion. You're slinging poo.

[Dan]

just a warning, if any of that poo comes in this direction I'm headed to the elephant house with a shovel and a cobbled together medieval catapult.

[Amy]

Loved the video and shared it with another mom of twins. She emailed us back with this little goodie-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HEFE3B0Rje0

Made me think of your ride.

[You can call me, 'Sir']

Yeah, I'm guessing you're a poop-slinger.

[Petunia]

Uh, sir, if the house looks anything like the inside of your van, you better get help quick. This is more than one person can handle in 2-hour increments.

[Joy]

Ooooh! I wanna comment on this one. I want to EXPOUND on this one. I have a degree in Armchair Psychology, you know.

Here's my diagnosis: You are not only suffering from Post Twins Stress Disorder but also from There's So Much To Do That I Can't Even Figure Out Where The *$&^#! To Start Syndrome.

You're been taking care of the little monsters for so long that the whole rest of your life is lying around in big, unkempt piles. There are mountains of junk obstructing your path through EVERY facet of your life -- not just the back seat of your gas-guzzling SUV.

It's overwhelming just to decide WHICH pile to start with: Should I clean the house? Work on my resume? Call the friends I haven't seen for 2 1/2 years and see if they're still alive? Do something with my prodigious creative talents other than amuse the Internet-addicted nutcases who haunt my blog?

What you should be doing now, which anyone with less than superhuman ambition or without an obsessive compulsive disorder would choose, is taking a vacation. Granted, you can't go to Tahiti, since those damned daycare people won't keep the twins 24/7, but you can take a vacation from all the other little mundane tasks in life. (You know, like having a career that actually contributes something useful to the world.)

I prescribe forgetting the dishes and the groceries and the cat poop and the email for at least a few days. Get some sleep, finish that bottle of Jack Daniels, read a book (those hard things with the paper in the middle). You've got a stress disorder, for God's sake! You need some time to recover. So stop wandering around the house thinking about how much there is to do. Let them eat take out. Relax, and then in a few days or weeks or months or years, depending on how tolerant The Mom is, you can make a Plan. But not now.

Although, if you could find some real friends to play poker with instead of Webkinz, you might be better off.

[Phoenix]

Luckily it will happen again next week and the week after that, so you'll eventually learn to spend your free time wisely. Or you'll perfect the three hour nap.

[Kerri]

It isn't every day you get a shout from another popular blogger. Finslippy has made up for her delay in linking your blog on hers.

Oh, and next week will be better. Although the time will still *whoop* just like that, you will conquer the tasks, only to have more added!

[Burgh Baby's Mom]

I liked this post better before the little edits in the first paragraph. Just so we're clear.

Bugger-all . . . play with Mickey . . . it's all the same. Just enjoy these newfound moments of silence.

[loren]

PTSD - ha! That's funny. That could also stand for Post TRIPLET Stress Disorder. You could win the Pulitzer if you could come up with one that encompasses all multiples...

Post Multiples Stress Disorder.

PMSD.

Oh, wait. PMS already exists.

Well, I'll let you work out the kinks.

[Leaf, probably...]

I loved your last post. It was awesome!

Your girls are all lovely, but OMG TWINS. How the heck did you survive that?!

[Renata]

In the parlance of Captain Jack Sparrow: "Monkey!"