Fighting like Cats and Dogs

I think my children are going to try and tear each other apart. We are just entering into the world of playing together. Matt and I thought we had done a good job of working with Tyler and Talan teaching them to share. We were so wrong. Not only do I now need 2 of every toy that we will play with throughout our day. I need to label which one is Tyler's and which one is Talan's. I know many wise parents have told me in the last few years, if you think this is hard just wait. Well, I've waited, our time is here, I don't like what I see, and quite frankly, I don't care to continue the trend we are on. So, to the parents who have been through this stage, the grandparents, the people who pass us by, I say to you, "We are fighting this stage. We will win!! Victory will belong to Matt and me. If not, expect 2 cute packages on your front door in a few days." On another sad note, I got an email from the pregnancy website saying I still have 82 days or something horrific like that. What pregnant woman wants to know how many more days of torture are left?? Unless that number is a single digit number I say, don't write it. If a pregnant woman (like there could be a man) cares enough and wants to know, she will figure out how days are left on her own. On the happy side of this topic I have had 3 people tell me in the last couple of days that I look small for how far along I am. This is the best compliment any pregnant woman can get. Please people, stay away from the you are so huge you look like you're about to pop comment. I don't know that my patience could handle a comment like that one this time around. Finally, I have to go to the RMV (or the DMV in other states) tomorrow with either 1 or 2 children depending on when Talan's therapy finishes up. That is enough to give me nightmares tonight. I hope I am not the only one who shudders at the thought of going there. It could possibly be that I was once scared at the DMV. You see, my dad and I once upon a time were in line at the DMV. You know one of those really long lines where people are so close to you that you practically touch. You know that everyone around you is listening to each other and quite possibly judging each other based on conversation alone. My dad being the smart, witty, charmingly handsome man that he is thought, what could I do to liven this situation. Darned if he didn't say out loud (quite loudly), "Boy would you look at my daughter's shoes." I looked up to see the entire line of quite possibly 40 or more people staring at me. I looked at him and said, "Dad, I am going to hurt you dad." Ever since then the thought of the DMV is not a pleasant one. So, tomorrow when I am at the RMV for hours with most likely 2 screaming children, I hope the line takes pity on my soul. Hopefully those people will think, I think she is hanging in there just fine. When in reality they are probably thinking, I wonder how many accidents that girl is going to have. She can't be more than 19. I recently heard my dad tell a story about my dear, sweet Grandma Gould where she says a toast. I have decided that her toast in my life's new motto. So, Here's to all those who wish us well, all the rest can go to hell!