Elephants and Kangaroosies-roosies

It rained all weekend. In fact it’s still raining. Which is not good for my hair. And frankly, what is more important than my hair? I had a hair treatment done this past weekend, because I was looking more and more like Richard Simmons with every passing day. Seriously though, haven’t the Jewish people suffered enough without inflicting the Jew Fro upon us? So I sacrificed an evening to sitting in a nasty salon with my head coated in a solution containing a formaldehyde derivative. Not kidding - I basically embalmed my hair. It now looks less Bob Ross and more silken locks of loveliness, but I don’t think I can ever do it again. The protocol with this particular treatment involves not washing the hair for 72 hours. That’s a damned long time. Especially since I didn’t want the twins touching my head for the entire 72 hour period because of the chemicals that would inevitably leach into their little bodies.  No big deal for my already addled brain, but not for my unblemished babies’ brains (this is all my own psychosis, by the way.  I was not warned to stay away from small children for 3 days or anything).  Oh and I wasn’t allowed to put up my hair either for that period of time. So there’s a challenge – keeping two 8 month olds literally out of my hair while taking care of them full time. And that’s why I can’t do it again. BUT, my hair for the next 5 months or so? Gorge.

This weekend we took the babies to Russo’s, a highly crowded market that caters to the produce-obsessed and I had more than one person call me “brave” for bringing a double snap-n-go in there. I basically cowered in a less insane area while Craig did the shopping. Craig and I had a date night in Boston while Nanny and Papa did the sitting. Fun night, though Boston restaurants continue to be somewhat disappointing. What’s with servers at the nicer restaurants in this town taking themselves so damned seriously? Post for someone else’s blog, I suppose.

Elliot and Leah continue to amaze me on a daily basis. Elliot is a speed demon. I will leave him in the playroom to do something in the kitchen for a minute and he will find me there. He has little interest in playing in the playroom, which is weird because are the plants in the dining room really more interesting than, say, the 450 toys for which huge multinational corporations spent millions of dollars to test and conduct focus groups to ensure that you, Elliot George, and those in your age bracket, will enjoy playing with them? I think we all know the answer to that.

I found this upon returning to get Leah from her crib, where I left her for about 1 minute on Sunday:

Yikes. Think she's proud of herself?  Time to move down the mattresses. She much prefers to stand, than to crawl at this point, though she can crawl. She is happiest when standing. And so cute. And still krazy.

They had their first Cheerios this weekend (well, generic morning O’s - Thanks for nothing, Whole Foods). Leah could pick them up off of the tray and get them into her mouth, whereas Elliot preferred them to be deposited directly into his gaping maw. This is the first step towards feeding independence, right? So maybe someday we won’t be feeding them 7 times a day? Not that nourishing my babies isn’t a beautiful thing, but it sure is a time suck.

The time change hasn’t caused too many problems yet, though getting them to go to sleep in what was essentially daylight last night wasn’t easy. I think we need to invest in room darkening curtains, which will also give Leah curtains to climb, which she will enjoy.

"Mom! Stop embarrassing us!"