Dispatches from Mautucky

Since we are only blogging once a year now, I thought I'd update the family about the recent developments in the world of the Mau Schmookies. Life just gets more and more interesting. The twins are singing, counting, saying some of their ABCs, pulling hair, and wanting to spend every waking hour outside. Yesterday, digging in the flower bed, they discovered worms. Emaline is fascinated. Keillor likes to look but not touch. He doesn't like getting his hands dirty.

Mommy and Emaline enjoy fake food at the Explorium.

We are at the stage where we could begin potty training or not. Emaline is ready, and will try to go potty by herself. Keillor treats the toilet like an electric chair. We are considering just doing away with diapers and letting them feel what's it's like to soil themselves. Since it is getting warm, and since we do spend a lot of time outside, this could prove to be the best method.

Keillor practices his climbing skills.

Their vocabularies have grown so much that there are fewer words they don't know than they do know. Emaline will pretty much repeat whatever we say. Keillor will just stare at us like we are idiots if we say words he doesn't understand. This weekend, they learned that the brush fire in the backyard is hot and that it will burn them. They keep repeating this over and over again: "Fire will burn babies. Hot. Hot. Burn babies. No, no, no."

Emaline gets locked out of GaGa and GeeGee's house

Our adventures in meal time have calmed. Our take it or leave it attitude has not created more adventurous eaters, but they aren't starving either.

The Schmookies pay homage to St. Francis.

While they did not understand Easter this year, we tried to explain that because of Jesus, a giant bunny brings chocolate. Emaline said, "Thank you, Jesus." Keillor just looked at us like we are morons.

Keillor dyes eggs with GaGa

Speaking of saying "thank you," they are developing manners. Both have started saying things like, "please, help," "thank you," "more, please," and "excuse me." Now we just have to work on training them to clean chimneys.

Emaline dies eggs with GeeGee

Driving Lessons

A rare occasion when they are not fighting

Emaline models her new sunglasses

They roll the garden caddy up the hill and either try to ride it down or run after it.

What the what?

Keillor is eating chips and salsa. Just had to share.

Put the Ball in the Box

6:33 a.m.. My children seem to understand Daylight Saving Time better than I do. Before springing forward, they woke up at six. After springing forward, they wake up at six. So here we are up before dawn on a Saturday morning. Mommy is playing with the kids after a ball intervention. We have a lot of colored balls around this joint. Keillor was collecting them. He wanted all of the balls (stop laughing, Mom). In order to get the last one, he had to attack his sister with a full-body lunge. Now Aimee is playing "Put the Ball in the Box" with them. She's better at this than I am, as evidenced not only by the fact that I am typing on my computer, but also because I would have said, "no" and taken the balls away.

TERRIBLE? TWO?


While they are still a month and a half away from their second birthday, my children have mastered the art of "no":
DADDY: Do you want to take a bath?
SCHMOOKIE: No.
DADDY: It's time to go night night.
SCHMOOKIE: No.
DADDY: Brush your teeth.
SCHMOOKIE: No.
And so on. I am trying to ask them fewer questions.
In a move that is textbook "terrible twos" Emaline had a stage four hissy fit, followed by an acute tantrum in the middle of the aisle at Kroger. Complete with a full-body spin on the floor, she screamed and hollered like the child of people who "can't control their kids. They'll just let anyone have kids these days." In Hail Mary move, I scooped up both Schmookies and whisked them away to the car so Aimee could check out without being attacked by two howler monkeys disguised as human children.
There are many benefits to them growing up. For instance, Keillor is now sitting on the ground playing with a spinning light that Carol Hill brought him. He'll push the button and watch the globe spin around and light up. Then, mimicking me, he'll blow on it and let the button go, putting the light out like a candle. Push. Spin. Blow. Let go. Stop spinning. Giggle, giggle. Repeat. Equally cute, Emaline tries to put every object the size of a baby doll to bed. "Nigh' nigh'" she'll say, and cover up her bottle, or a plate, or the remote control with a blanket, napkin, or piece of paper. "Nigh' nigh'."

EVOLUTION OF THE TABLE

They are also sitting at the adult table. In the beginning, there were highchairs. These highchairs attached to regular chairs, but like other highchairs, they came with their own trays. This is where the Schmookies ate. It came to pass that the Schmookies did not like highchairs any more. It was decided that a Schmookie-sized table was in order. And lo it came to pass that Grandmommy delivered. This is where the Schmookies ate. It came to pass that the Schmookies began to notice that they were being segregated from their elders. They made the journey across the linoleum desert to the Mommy and Daddy table where they scaled the big chairs. And lo, they were happy Schmookies. A strange occurrence...occurred: they were strangely civilized. A quick adjustment turned high chairs into booster seats, and we are a big happy family.

WORDS, WORDS, WORDS

For most of their lives, we have been fairly confident that they did not understand the salty language that escaped from our mouths. Not so any more. They are in full parrot mode, repeating everything we say...except. "I love you." They won't repeat that. I think they're withholding on purpose.

Keillor, March 2011

Aimee, July 1976

I have spent enough time ignoring my kids to write about my kids, so, as Keillor would say, "I'm out, sucka'"

MOMMY IN BALTIMORE, DAY 3

Hi, Aimee. In case you thought we could get along without you, we are counting down the minutes until you get home. The schmookies are counting with screams. We went on a short stroll this afternoon while the oven heated up. There was a train stopped on the tracks. Keillor was furious that it wasn't moving, and he was not impressed by the engineer waving at us from the window.
Based on the videos, you would think all we did was bathe; that's just when I remembered to get the video camera. I edited out all the naughty bits in case perverts are looking at our blog.
They went to bed with no problems. Well, sort of. Keillor started screaming that he wanted milk. I gave in and gave him a sip of milk. Then Emaline wanted milk. I gave her a sip. Then Keillor wanted water. Definite ploy to keep me in the room and the light on.

Let's just say he didn't scream as long as last night. Here's the video. It may make you cry.

MOMMY IN BALTIMORE, DAY 2

Hi, Aimee. Day Two and we're all still alive and kicking. A lot of kicking. Hitting and biting, too. Seriously though, we're doing OK. I didn't need an alarm clock this morning, as usual. They screamed for waffles and then wanted my cereal, as usual. They had taken their shoes off a few times before we left (and then in the car) as usual. Also, we really need to fix the lock on the cabinet. Here is the video I promised. Listen for the hidden satanic messages.

MOMMY IN BALTIMORE, DAY 1

OK, Aimee. I made it through one day on my own. No baby diarrhea, only one barf, some food on the floor, and a few fights. We made it out of the house by 7:30, and were in bed by 7:00. There is a sink full of Schmookie dishes, and I am regretting eating the chili again. Here is the video I promised:

Schmookies Say Their Names

The twins love to look at pictures of people and try to identify them. Men with gray hair are either GaGa or PawPaw. Women are Mommy. Men are Daddy. Any children who they do not know are "babies." Here they watch themselves being recorded.