Supermom's Birthday

SuperTwinMom's Birthday

My wife's birthday has been an all day affair.  She deserves it.  I started the day off with breakfast for everyone consisting of bacon, eggs, sausage, toast and strawberries, her favorite.  She very much enjoyed it but the children ate maybe a quarter of what was given to them.  I never understand how a child can eat next to nothing at almost every meal and still go all day like a sled dog in the Iditarod.  Now on my wife's birthday I try to do as much as I can so she can have a day of relaxation and enjoyment.  This in mind, I did the dishes and cleaned up breakfast.  I got the boys cleaned off and dressed for the day's activities and packed a picnic for later.  At this point I could take a nap but again it's my wife's birthday and I'm committed to giving her a nice day so apple picking we will go.  The drive to the orchard is pleasant and uneventful.  No yelling or crying just driving like the bunch of gentleman we are with our lone female representative: Mommy.  We arrive around 10 and it is a scorcher of an apple picking party.  The boys received their orders, descended on the trees, picked apples and sweated through their shirts.  Ten pounds of fruit was loaded into the van and after our picnic we went home for nap.   Well the twins had a nap and I set about cleaning the house for the dinner I had planned for my wife and her parents that evening all the while my wife is making candy apple's with our older son J.  At this point I'm starting to wind down from the day's activities and can use a rest but I have things to do and still a wife to give the best birthday I can.  At this point O wakes up with an eruption from his hind quarters the smell of which could down an Alaskan moose.  H wakes up as a result of the action and probably the smell too, so they are both awake and pissed and the house isn't totally clean yet.  When my wife see's this she asks if I need any help.  A crossroads has been reached.  Do I take the help or continue my plan of doing everything myself.  "No babes I got this!"  Which is what I said but couldn't be further from the truth.  The twins are proceeding to undo all the tiding I've just tidied and I'm in a state of shitting my pants!  It's impossible to get everything done.  How in the world does she do this everyday without having a nervous breakdown every ten minutes.  I mean really it's like trying to swim with your feet tied up and a twenty pound rock on your back.  Not only are they wrecking the joint but they are having....disagreements at every turn.  O hits H with an airplane, H hits O with a train track and again, AGAIN!, they will not stop climbing the fucking TABLE!  It's like the K2 of our house, it must be climbed in order to have satisfaction in life.  I want to throw it in the yard and burn it.  So my wife lends a loving hand and I take the gun out of my mouth and diner goes pretty well actually.

It's funny how men have little idea of how hard staying at home with small children can be.  I knew it was trying but at some point I thought to myself that if I were her and I did this everyday I would have been in an insane asylum using mashed potatoes as shampoo by now with gravy.  Gravy for sure.  So what I'm trying to say is Happy Birthday babes!  You do more in a day than most of us with children pulling at your pants and whining about how the straw in their milk is the wrong color.  You're like net under the tightrope walkers at the circus but probably smell way better.  I don't know how you do it but I know one thing, I'm a BadTwinDad.