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I have mentioned before, that having twin boys who are 4 years old is pretty wonderful. Just today I had a little flashback, if you will. A memory of sorts…..

My twin boys had recently mastered the art of walking. It was early in the morning and I had just gotten my older kids off to school.
The phone rang.
The doorbell chimed.
On my way back from answering the chiming door, ear still glued to the phone, my feet stepped in something gooey and sticky and crackly.
What in the world….
I looked up to see BabyTwinBoyAaron with his hands in the garbage can. Egg yolks, egg shells and other random garbage all over his feet, my feet, BabyNate’s feet and the surrounding three feet.

What’s a poor girl to do, in this very precarious situation!

Both twins started toddling around the kitchen floor marking their paths with gooey, sticky, crackly tracks.

Every time I made a move to pick them up I marked the floor with gooey, sticky, crackly tracks. 

What’s a poor girl to do!

Snatch those boys up and mark the path to the kitchen sink, that’s what! We got ourselves cleaned up. (which was a very contorted kind of thing in it’s own right…trying to get my feet into the kitchen sink….while keeping two toddlers from falling off the counter….yikes….don’t picture it for too long. I’m sure it was shockingly unattractive!!) Once sufficiently cleaned up, I maneuvered my way around the mess and set the two boys in the joining room. Then it was mother versus the mess. Gooey, sticky, crackly and all. What a glamorous profession. My college degree was really paying off.

Exactly 45 seconds later, Aaron toddled his sweet self into my view, and what do you know…the small child had exactly 10 wrapped cough drops in his


And ten more in his


Boy, this morning is getting good. Really good.

After prying the gooey, sticky, paper crackly cough drops out of his mouth I looked up to see…

Nate. Who had quietly gotten the mop out, lugged it into the kitchen and plunged it into the gooey, sticky and crackly egg mess that was still all over the floor. What a fine helper.

Fine, indeed. The gooey, and sticky and crackly kind of fine.

What’s a poor girl to do in this situation!

Sit down and laugh, that’s what. Until she looked up to see that some small child had painted brown mascara all over her lovely white cushioned bench.

Then the poor girl may or may not have cried a little.

And cleaned it all up.

And found herself in need of a morning nap.

And then….a little while later, after she had put her feet up for a spell, she chuckled a little.

And then she thought to herself……
…….I live in a wonderful world.

Wonderfully cute, and funny, and not boring (except the laundry and dishes and the toilet bowl cleaning) and exhausting, and rewarding and fun and precious and PRICELESS. 

Even when it’s gooey and sticky and crackly.

Twin Boys age 4…..with a better grasp of egg usage.

About Jamie

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  1. One of my mother's fondest and most stressful motherhood memory of me was the following:

    I was 2 years old, my mom had put the kiddie-gate at the bottom of the stairs so I would not disturb her mopping the awesome 1980s yellow linoleum floor. Somehow I grabbed the Mop & Glo cleaner that she kept too close to the gate, brought it upstairs, and proceeded to “clean” my bedroom with it. I squirted/poured the bottle of harsh floor cleaner on my stuffed animals, carpet, bedding, furniture… everything. My mom said she sat me on her bed and told me not to move, called my father at work, and cried as she asked him what to do next. Then she continued to cry, and cleaned up my things (many of which were actually ruined from the cleaner.

    Another such story involves me not too long after the previous incident. I mimicked my mother's haircare routine… or so I thought… by using Vaseline in my curly, curly hair (in a similar fashion that my mom used hair gel). The NOT water-soluble goo was all over my hair and impossible to get out. She tried shampoo, dog shampoo, laundry detergent, Comet… it wasn't until she tried Dawn dish soap that my hair could finally be de-Vaseline'd.

    I can't wait until I'm a mother and can have fun stories like these, too! 😉

  2. Oh, what fun! I must share too! When I was pregnant with my fourth child (the middle two are twins by the way) It was a cold fall day so I decided to make up some muffins to help warm the house a bit. So I did. I cranked up the oven and got those muffins in there and even set the timer. Then I was still so cold I decided a fire in the woodstove would be good. But I needed some kindling (yeah I was like six months along) so I head outside and start chopping some kindling and my little ones are swinging on their swingset on this cold crisp day. Then I hear a beep. That's the muffins I am thinking, but alas, the door is locked. I run to the front door but it is locked also. Then I run across to the nieghbors with the little ones in tow to see if I can call my mom and sisters and ask if I ever possible gave them a key to our home. Nope. I didn't. Finally, as I listen to the incessant beeping of the muffins-are-done oven, I realize we still have an air conditioner in our bedroom window. So I heave (I don't use the word lightly) myself and my baby belly up onto a hose reel and start ripping out the foam board that surrounds the air conditioner until I can finally heave (again, not a word I use lightly) the air conditioner out of the window, and at the risk of over using the word “heave” I hoist myself up through the window and step carefully over nick knacks on the dresser and hop down and through the bedroom door and across the house to the kitchen to retrieve the muffins. And the muffins weren't even burned. The kids ate them all up! End of story!

  3. My twin boys are three and I loved your story! I have a few stories like that myself, most of them involving eggs or toilets! Thanks foe sharing!