The one with spiders, rotten meat and a birthday cake

The second birthday came and went. I can’t believe that the girls had evolved from barely-there-blind-helpless mice into almost full fledged human beings. They have opinions, they put on their own shoes, they tell me about their day. It’s amazing to watch them change and grow. Unfortunately the amazingness (is that a word?) often gets lost beneath lack of sleep, stress and responsibilities.

I wanted to throw them a birthday party complete with a kick-ass cake. It was more for me than for them, but most young kids’ birthdays are. So we invited friends, made a menu and a shopping list, had set a date for the party.

The day before the party I took off, thinking I’ll leisurely prepare for the festivities (that’s because I’m slightly delusional). I could see myself breezing around my newly completed kitchen (thank you Kevin!), humming some happy song while preparing yummy food out of fresh groceries I bought that day. What I didn’t realize was that ALL high schools in the area graduated that same week, everyone and their uncle had graduation parties the same day I had zaiki’s party and the grocery store I go to was swamped.

So, the grocery store trip took me 3 hours to complete. And there was a huge spider on the last six-pack of Corona I wrestled another crazy shopper for. I spotted it when I was waiting in line. The thing was HUGE, the size of my iPod, its fangs dripping with poison and I’m pretty sure it was growling. Both check out girl and I started to shriek as the disapproving line behind me looked on. Finally I told myself to man up and flicked it away with my credit card. It landed in my cart full of groceries and I made the security guard alerted by our screams shake out all the stuff I bought and transfer them into a new cart. Selfish of me? Perhaps, but I didn’t want that spider-thing to tap me on the shoulder and ask for spare change while I drove home. The grocery store trip put me in the vile mood. When I got home, that blasted six pack of Corona that caused me so much drama tore and broke in my driveway. No, not a good day.

On the upside – the smell of rotting meat that enveloped our yard each time the wind blew from my neighbor’s house resolved itself. Turns out, old demented man next door unplugged his spare fridge full of meat some time ago, and it only (ahem) took his son 3+ months to notice the smell. They cleaned it just in time for us to have friends over in the back yard. Yay!

The day of the party was better – Kevin made a jambalaya and his famous sangria, I made my kick-ass cake. The house was only slightly a disaster, guests showed up on time. A birthday video is below. J

What's up Doc?

So Maya needs her tonsils out. Her tonsils are, apparently, huge and block her throat and nose. This explains constant mouth breathing and cat breath she has. She needs surgery which makes me scared, but I'm sure she'll be fine.
I made an appointment with a pediatric ENT (whoo-whoo, bring on the insurance card!!!) and filled out all the forms online preemptively, knowing that if I wait for the appointment time to do that, one of these things will happen:
a. My kids will tear the forms apart, Sonya will probably eat it.
b. While I'm filling out the forms, Maya will bite, pinch or hit her sister, or other children present
c. They will scream relentlessly
To avoid the aforementioned calamities, I arrived to the office fifteen minutes early, with all the information easily accessible. Sonya was brought along since Husband was busy and I have no one else to watch the kids. The girls got suspicious when we arrived, and clung to my skirt. Sonya hid under it and told everyone from under the protective cover that I'm HER mama. All right, so far it's all good.
Then the receptionist needed my ID and insurance card. I threw sippy cups at the girls to keep them occupied and turned my back to them for a moment. Big mistake - screaming ensued almost immediately. Sonya bit Maya or Maya hit Sonya, I don't know. Sonya screamed until we were called in, and then I heard an obvious sighs of relief from the waiting room, where all other normal children were quietly sitting next to their parents. Whatever bitches. My kids are just lively and active. Yes, that's the word.
Because Sonya was screaming so much, all the nurses assumed she was the one being looked at. Appointment went fine. Sonya bit the doctor, Maya dropped the chair on my foot, and, upon our exit, when offered lollipops, they both wanted a particular color (that changes every time, by the way). I think the office staff was relieved when we departed. The doctor told me "Oh, they are so fun!" while slowly backing away from us.
By the time we got home, both were sticky from lollipops from head to toe and hyped up on sugar. I was left to contemplate the surgery and its risks.
The end.

Meet my family

Hi, I'm Lida. My husband and I have two full-time jobs and run a bilingual household-while I am getting my graduate degree-while we are rebuilding our house-while raising willful two-year-old twin girls. I think that covers it. We are a middle class family, although with recent economic changes and added expense of child raring I'm not sure anymore. 

This blog is dedicated to my experience of raising twins, really an outlet for expressing thoughts and feelings. I hope that a lot of you can relate. Oh, and don't mind occasional grammatical issues - I am a first-generation Russian immigrant.

So, my girls are 2. I don't call them twins, but prefer stolen from somewhere "twiblings"- yes, they share a birthday, but are very different kids.

Sonya - technically my firstborn, she is a stubborn little cookie. We have hit every sleep-related issue with her, starting with colic and presently with night terrors. I'm dreading the teenage years. She can be rough, but is very sweet and cuddly, totally mama's girl. She can also cram 3 oreo cookies in her mouth at the same time.

Maya is a munchkin. She is smaller and more timid than her sister. She is deathly afraid of bugs. But she loves to help and gives the best hugs ever: when you pick her up, she just molds into you and gives a happy little sigh. She is also the only child I know who doesn't care about sweets.

Kevin is my husband. My best friend really. He has been "blessed" (giggles from the audience) with a somewhat crazy Russian woman for a wife and two daughters who he adores but who have him wrapped around their fingers. He is a great dad who changes diapers, wipes puke and poop, kisses boo-boos and plays with the girls on the monkey bars.

Lida - I moved to this country 11 years ago (God, had it been that long?) from Russia firmly believing in the American dream.Then I met Kevin and decided to stay. Even now I am torn between two ideologies and world views, I speak two languages and have family on two continents. I'm an avid reader and runner. Painting had been put on the back burner for lack of time and energy. Maybe I'll take it up again when I retire.

This blog is named Zaiki - Russian for Bunnies, that's what we call our girls at home. Hope you enjoy it.