Amazon Prime is kind of a problem for me. I realized I had gone too far when I found myself buying bubble wrap with one click from my phone. Hear me out! We are moving and I have twins. The bubble wrap came with a free box.
I also ordered a 12-pack of Carmex recently. You know you’re not a poor starving 20-something anymore when you can afford to buy 12 tubs of Carmex at once. I know. Carmex is terrible. It’s made with sheep fat or something. And Amazon Prime is evil, too—I heard the podcast. But I live in Sandy Utah, where my other choice is Walmart. It’s definitely a lesser of two evils kinda choice.
Again: #twinpass
While we are on the topic, I feel like I have to admit to you that I wrote a scathing review of a binkie on Amazon the other day. In my defense, my kid chews through handfuls of binkies a week, and the product description lied and said it was a 4-pack, when only 2 arrived.
Binkies are another major problem I have. My twin daughters are nearly two and a half, and one of them seems to get more and more attached to binkies with every passing moment. Eliza could take or leave them, but Phoebe HAS TO HAVE THEM. With all I have on my plate with having rambunctious twins, my own business, way too many pets, and the prospect of moving in a week, the last thing I give a twert about is whether my kid uses binkies. It might be bad for her orthodontia, but I feel like she’s already ahead of the curve because Jon and I both have pretty nice teeth. And the fact that I have to put her in a straightjacket to brush her teeth is probably WAY worse for her teeth AND her mental health.
They also say binkies hinder the development of language, but since I have my own scientific lab here in the form of identical twins, I can assure you that that’s not the case. My kids have learned to speak at the exact same pace—like, to the word, to the day.
Here’s the problem I have with binkies, though: my daughter eats them for breakfast. Literally. She bites the tips off, and then cries “Hole!!!!!” because the binkie no longer “works.” This happens 2-3 times a week. So we are spending a small fortune on binkies.
At least the binkie ultimately serves its purpose. Eliza, on the other hand, can only fall asleep at night if she gets an hour-long spa treatment during which she issues commands and one or the other of us complies: “Rub belly!” “Rub back!” “Rub elbow!” “Rub cheek!” “Rub chin!” I’m starting to regret all that time we spent practicing body parts in the bathtub, not to mention teaching them to talk.
(Yes, I am kidding, dour mama policing types.)
