A Day in the Life of Two Under Two

I wrote this a month ago but never hit publish because I never got around to proof reading it until now – such is life. So here was my update on two under two when Grace was six weeks old…

Every couple of days, I think that I have the energy and state of mind to write a blog post about how wonderful my two little girls are and the feeling of happiness that we share. Literally, every time, I think, “today is the day I write the post” something awfully trying goes down and the happy post flies out the window.

Yesterday morning, I woke up thinking that during Josie’s nap time, I would write a post. The morning was filled with all things wonderful to post on. Sister snuggles, little loves and girly giggle time. It felt blissful. Truly.

Then, came time for our post office appointment to get passports for the two girls:

We arrived, waited in line, while Josie attempted to free her little hand from my death grip so that she could run straight out the door. When we finally made it to the window, I told the lovely clerk that we had an appointment. She told me that they weren’t ready for me yet and I had to wait. Awesome. Because 19 month olds are great at waiting.

Eventually, they were ready for us and we got to deal with an extremely rude clerk, who we’ll call Grumpy. Grumpy was certain I didn’t have all the paperwork. Oh but I did. Ha ha. Obstacle one accomplished.

After reviewing all my forms, and to her chagrin seeing that I had all necessary documents and that she would have to deal with the stressed out mom and screaming children, Grumpy asked for our passport photos. I told her that it clearly states that her post office takes passport photos and I wanted to get them there. At first she adamantly refused saying that she didn’t want to deal with taking a baby’s photo. And I should go to a studio. What the hell? A studio? What studio?

Grumpy finally lamented and said that she would attempt to take passport photos of my kids. At this point, Josie is free of my grip and has been running around the post office while I chase after her. I’ve finally picked her up. Grumpy is looking at me and my children in a very judgy way. And then she goes, “And girl, you are pregnant again” and shakes her head in disapproval.

Ummm…did you just call me pregnant? You are literally entering Grace’s birth date as Aug 7, 2014, that was six weeks ago. I thought maybe she meant something else – like I was just pregnant…cause I was. So I ignored the comment in an effort to get on with the show.

Grumpy took us to a back room to take the passport photos. I was relieved to have Josie trapped in one room where she couldn’t run out the door. Josie, on the other hand, was super bummed to be in a little room so began the real waterworks.

With Josie crying at the door, it was time to take Grace’s passport photo. Grumpy had the photography skills of your 98 year old grandmother – slow and shaky. Grace’s eyes had to be open and her hands had to be down by her side. At this point, Grace is sleeping so I’m yelling “Grace,” snapping my fingers, picking her up and literally trying to pry her eyes open as Grumpy slowly snaps a photo five seconds after Grace has opened her eyes and moved her hands. Grumpy is frustrated by my “uncooperative” six week old. This shenanigan of attempting to get a useable photo continues for 45 minutes.

By this time, we are well into nap time for Josie. I’m finding myself prying open the eyes of my newborn while singing “Old McDonald” at the top of my lungs while my toddler melts around me. At my near breaking point, Grumpy turns to me and says, “do you know what you’re having, a boy or a girl?” I look at her and say, “I’m not pregnant. You’re taking pictures of my newborn”

Seriously? How is that even scientifically possible? Did I get pregnant two weeks after giving birth and I’m now a month along? Hell no, lady! But thanks for pointing out my fat while my toddler melts and my newborn is “uncooperative

50 minutes into failed attempts of taking pictures of my motionless baby, Grumpy needs to move on to the next passport customer and a different clerk comes in to try to take Grace’s photo. This clerk was extremely happy, we’ll call her Peppy. Peppy picks up the camera, Grace quickly opens her eyes and has her hands down. Peppy snaps the photo and lightening speed and we are done. Houston, we have a passport photo! And the best photo ever..

Amazing, right? Grace will thank me for this pic one day.

Now, it’s Josie’s turn to stand still, look at the camera and keep her hands to her side for a passport photo. At this point, she’s got snot running down her face and she is looking like a complete mess. But, for some reason, Josie relinquishes her quest to go out the door and she stands in front of the white screen in perfect position for the passport photo. Peppy turns to me and asks if I want to clean up her face first. To which I blurt out, “no. just take the picture now.” She quickly snaps the photo right before Josie bolts out of the way. Relieved to have a photo, we both hoot and holler.

Of course, it can’t be that easy. Grumpy comes back and looks at Josie’s photo and says that some of the hair is out of the shot and that it needs to be redone. What? You mean her massive curly hair that pokes out every which direction? every tip to every strand of hair needs to be in the photo?

I’m very proud of my coaxing skills as I can lure a 19 month old back to a passport screen station and then snatch her book away as not to have it in the photo. Luckily, we had Peppy Snappy McSnaperson behind camera and she gets the exact shot that we needed within the split second before toddler melt down. Amazingly, all the hair made it into the photo…

It’s now time to leave the little room and to go back out tot he main lobby to have Peppy enter in the paperwork to the system. As I’m carrying Josie back into the lobby, who is now an hour and 15 minutes past her nap time, Josie sees a man waiting in line who resembles Graham. Not only does he have Graham’s build, hair and complexion, he is also wearing the exact outfit that Graham wears every Sunday – a 49ers jersey and shorts. He is the doppleganger of all dopplegangers. Give me a few beers and I would think it was Graham.

Upon seeing this man, Josie is literally trying to leap from my arms and into his. She is wailing, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy” As if Daddy came to save her from the torture. But the man is not even looking at her, cause he’s not her daddy. Josie is getting more and more crushed that Daddy is just blatenly ignoring her. I keep saying “That’s not daddy” but you can’t reason with an upset toddler. So the cry for “daddy” continues until the man finally leaves the post office.

20 minutes later and Peppy is finally done with filling out the necessary forms. I have written checks and I’m now signing the final receipt. The end is in sight and I’m picturing my reward of nap time. Just as I’m about to be done with the place, Peppy look at me and she excitedly says, “are you pregnant?”

With a lump in my throat, I pack up my kids, attempt to suck in my stomach and make the four block trek back to the car.

That night, over a giant glass of wine, I say to Graham, “Oh my God, what if my passport is expired?” He reply, “No way. It takes a really long time for a passport to expire”

Feeling weary from the day, just before I crawl into bed, I think I’ll check out my passport. Passport lasts ten long years. However, mine expires Oct. 16, two weeks before our trip to Mexico.

Back to the post office I go.

This, my friends, is a day in the life of two under two. I must be grade A crazy because I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I love these two little bandits with all my heart…