It's Halloween again.
How is that possible? It honestly feels like we just did this. The kids were so teeny last year—the twins were still just barely toddling along, and William was only a few months old. He was still having a hard time supporting the weight of his own head and now he practically struts around like he's a big shot.
"Strut" is a gross exaggeration, but I can still tell that he thinks he's hot stuff because he's so self-sufficient.
Until he needs his diaper changed. Then he begs for Mama.
Not the twins, though—we've actually had a lot of success with their potty-training. We started slow because we didn't want to push them and turn them off of it completely, but we put little potties in the bathrooms and other key areas of the house, and let them wander in with us. That was a hell of an adjustment—little faces staring at you while you try to take care of you own matters. It was a nice segue for the two of them, though, and their need to follow me and often Chandler everywhere, tapping at closed door, sticking their fingers under doors. On one hand, it's adorable and sweet that they want to be with us all the time. On the other hand, I really miss peeing in peace.
Regardless, they're starting to get the hang of it and have taken great joy in calling out bodily functions, especially in public, and as much as I hate to know they're growing up, I can't say as I'm sorry that diaper duty has been cut back significantly.
We take the little joys in life, and right now that includes celebrating every time Erica or Jack manages to use a potty successfully.
Never let it be said that our lives lack excitement.
And because William's so nosy and interested in every little thing the twins do, I know it won't be long before he starts to use the potty, too. He already gets a strange, sick thrill from sitting on any of the ones we have scattered around the house, and as soon as he understands how to identify his own bodily functions, and pull off his own clothes, it'll probably be a matter of days for him.
My kids are funny and weird. They probably get it from their father.
I shake my head to myself, leaning into the mirror to touch up my heavy layers of black eyeliner. We're heading over to Leta and Derek's for some sort of Halloween party in a little while—entire families welcome. In fact, families are encouraged, according to the invitation. Knowing those two, I wouldn't be surprised to find a carnival for the kids set up in their backyard, but at least it'll be something fun for them to do.
Of course, the stipulation was "costume only." Naturally. Because we have all kinds of free time right now to come up with costumes. Though somehow, we did. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that neither of us gets nearly as much sleep as we used to, and then we live off of way too much caffeine the rest of the day, so we have to find some way to pass the time. Of course, we also covertly text back and forth while we're at work, so we get a lot of brainstorming done that way, too.
Since we're nauseatingly cute to the people around us in general, and because it's fun, we managed to come up with a fairly extensive list of group costumes—the tough part was narrowing it down to just one. Finally, though, we settled on The Addams Family. Most of it only requires dark clothes and somber expressions, so it didn't need a whole lot of extra effort on our part.
Chandler's been very enthusiastic about his Gomez impersonation—he's been calling me cara mia for more than a week now. I've been trying to call him mon chere, but haven't managed to with a straight face yet. He found some sort of black hair dye to comb into his hair and just a little while ago, I saw him very intently penciling in a silly little mustache.
My husband is a strange guy, but I think he's somehow exacting retribution for the pink bunny costume from just after we were married.
I suppose there are worse things than Morticia Addams, though, and the kids are going to look ridiculously adorable once we put them in their outfits.
"Come on, Tish," Chandler calls from our bedroom. "There are three little gremlins that want to put on their costumes."
"Relax, Gomez. You think this look just happens?"
"Baby, I'm sure you look amazing."
I roll my eyes a little as I smooth down my hair, long enough at the moment that I can pull off the look without a wig. I smooth on another coat of lipstick before I toss the tube in my bag and shrug. I think this is about as Morticia as I'm going to get.
"Where Mama?" I hear William ask and I grin at my reflection. He's still in the very early stages of stringing words together—usually it just equals gibberish, but asking where I am is something he has a knack for.
"Mama's coming, honey," I call over my shoulder, and I suddenly feel a tug at my skirt.
"What doin', Mommy?"
I look down to see my twins peering back at me, both of them having managed to slide in without me noticing—they're like little ninjas. Jack's hair has been smoothed and flattened into our best approximation of Pugsley, and Erica's hair is in two little braids for when she gets tired of her Wednesday wig, which is actually just a little black hat that I attached two yarn braids to. She looks silly with it on, but that's kind of what we're going for.
"Getting ready," I answer as I smile down at them. "What do you think?"
The both tilt their heads at the same angle, squinting their eyes as they scrutinize me, and I'm sure they're really wondering why Mommy only sort of looks like Mommy instead judging my costume. It occurs to me at that moment that neither of them are actually wearing clothes, only their little toddler training pants. "Honey, why are our babies naked?"
"You know how they feel about clothes, Mon," Chandler calls back, William giggling in the background. "They think the house is their own, private Woodstock."
I sigh as I look down at them, both of them grinning back at me in their naked glory. Erica's always the ringleader with this one, pulling her clothes off faster than one would ever expect from someone so small. Jack's not usually bothered with it until he sees his sister scampering around in her all together, but then he's always quick to join. The interesting part is that Erica's easier to catch because she constantly giggles as she runs; Jack's stealthy. He runs through the house on his tippy toes, never making a sound. Usually Erica has to track him down, using her twin radar to locate our rogue child.
But…they're so much easier to deal with like this. I don't have to spend extra time trying to get stains out of their clothes. Instead, we just wipe them down or put them in the tub when they're done making their messes. I never thought there'd be a day when I didn't find joy in figuring out how to get rid of a new stain, but my kids are creative. They've been able to come up with things that I never would have imagined, and it's the sort of thing that takes too much time away from them. Naked babies are much simpler.
"You two want to put on your costumes?"
"Yay!" Erica exclaims, clapping her hands, and Jack does a silly little shuffle out of the bathroom—something he probably picked up from his father—that I didn't know he was coordinated enough to do.
"Puggsy Puggsy Puggsy!" he yells, still not able to get the hang of "Pugsley," despite how often we've said it lately.
I follow them into the bedroom, biting my lip at the sight in front of me. I'm not sure which is funnier—Chandler dressed in a tight black suit with dark, slicked-back hair and a pencil-thin mustache, or William in a little black robe, a fake light bulb attached to a pacifier hanging out of his mouth. "He's the cutest little Uncle Fester," I finally say, William grinning at me around his pacifier, the fine hairs on his head combed back so that he looks even more bald than usual. I look Chandler up and down as he strikes a pose, a snort escaping me despite my best efforts. "Those pants are almost obscene, hon."
He wiggles his hips at me suggestively before putting William in a bouncy chair to keep him out of trouble for a few minutes. "Well, Gomez Addams is almost obscene," he answers as he walks over to me, putting his hands on my hips. "He and Morticia are madly, passionately in love and not afraid to show it."
I glance down at the front of his pants for a moment before leaning in to kiss his cheek. "Well, we don't want you showing anything at this party so…think cold thoughts tonight. There's no hiding anything in that outfit."
He looks over at the twins, who are happily interacting with William for the moment before leaning in to kiss me gently, taking care not to smear my lipstick. "You look so hot right now," he breathes, nuzzling his nose against my cheek, and a shudder works its way down my spine.
"I don't think those are cold thoughts," I answer in a whisper, holding onto him for a moment before I back away. "All those desperate housewives don't need to know the sort of treat I get to come home to at night."
He looks at me for a long moment, and I can tell he's mentally debating just putting the kids to bed and staying in for the night. It's a very tempting prospect, honestly, but a moment later he shakes his head just a little and we force our attention back to the kids. There's always tonight.
"Who first?" Chandler whispers to me, trying not to attract their attention. If they suspect we're about to put clothes on them, they'll scatter.
"Jack," I breathe. "We'll be able to find Erica if she runs."
Without hesitating, Chandler reaches down and scoops up Jack, tossing him in the air a few times for good measure. "Daddy stop," he laughs, though his body wiggles for more. Instead, Chandler just holds him up, blowing raspberries on his belly. Jack just laughs harder, his little body squirming as he gets tickled.
"All right, Pugsley," he finally says, plopping Jack on our bed. "Let's do this."
"Arms up," I tell him, and he surprisingly doesn't put up a fight, letting us dress him without much trauma. His striped shirt stretches nicely over his little Buddha belly and the shorts are nothing new for him. Erica's so excited about wearing her costume that she's already waiting with her hands over her head for her own little black dress.
"This is too much," Chandler says when we finally get all of them settled on the floor, the three of them all beaming happily. He grabs the camera off the nightstand and takes a few pictures before we start the arduous task of bringing them downstairs. Jack and Erica can manage to walk down the stairs on their own now, as long as they hold on to the banister rails and one of us is there in case of an emergency, and William's entering the "scoot down on his belly" phase, which can still take him a while; his attention span is short. He frequently has to be reminded that he's in the middle of a project—usually, he'll stop what he's doing and start plucking at fuzz on the carpet or put his head down to take an impromptu nap.
It only takes another two trips back upstairs after that to find forgotten shoes and missing socks and a few other baby necessities before we're almost set to go, which I consider a minor victory. Getting socks and shoes on wiggling toes is another story all together, but after two runaway children, one pair of shoes being thrown across the room, and all three babies repeatedly peeling off their own socks, the three of them are finally dressed and, for the moment, look content with their lot in life.
We both let out deep breaths—wrangling three little kids is no joke—before we look at each other. "Camera ready?" I ask, watching the twins closely, making sure neither one starts to look shifty.
He nods slowly. "Just have to set the timer."
"Okay, guys," I say, and they mostly pay attention. "Let's go to the chair."
That does it—for days, it's been in the living room, taunting them while we've been making them stay away from it. Eagerly, they all scramble toward the decrepit-looking antique chair that we found for a few dollars at a thrift store the other day. Because we're insane, and because our kids will only be this age once, we covered one of the walls with black crepe and tulle and fake cobwebs. We found a crappy black sheet to go on the ground, and Chandler mentioned something about being able to turn the picture into black and white later.
I pose the twins on either side of the chair, handing Jack a brown plastic bottle that we marked with a skull and crossbones and I give Erica a little ragdoll with a head that detaches and reattaches with Velcro. Unfortunately, she's endlessly amused by it, and I can only hope we're not causing them severe psychological trauma of some sort with this get up. I can hear Chandler taking pictures behind me but I mostly ignore him—I've come to associate the click of the camera with him being nearby. I smooth down Jack's hair and straighten Erica's fake braids then pull William into my arms, adjusting his light bulb. "All right, Daddy. We're ready when you are."
"I'm setting it to continuous shoot," he tells me, his face still hidden by his camera as he makes a few more adjustments to the tripod. "One of them should be decent that way."
"Whatever, hon. Just get over here—the natives are getting restless."
He tweaks a few more things before he hurries over to the chair, plunking himself down and assuming some sort of regal position. I scramble around and grab my bundle of flowerless stems at the last second, holding William in front of me so he doesn't get left out.
"Angry faces," Chandler says, and I hope the twins understand what that means. They both have great angry faces to be honest, but I don't know if they can do it on command yet. A few clicks later and he tells everyone to smile, both of them happily calling out, "cheese!" William makes a sound close to it around the light bulb, and I can feel my own cheeks start to hurt from smiling so hard. These kids may be a lot more work than I ever anticipated—they're sneaky, mischievous, nosy, pushy, bratty, cranky, messy, and sometimes just mean—but I love them so much that it hurts, and all the temper tantrums and mood swings and sheer exhaustion could never change that. They're three of the greatest loves of my life.
Along with Chandler, of course.
"Want get some of just the rugrats?" he asks when the camera stops clicking, and I kiss William's cheek, wiping off the lipstick a moment later.
"Of course. They're the ones that matter."
Chandler stands, looking at the twins very seriously. "Who wants to sit in the chair?"
Their faces light up as if it were Christmas. "Me do! Me do!" they answer together.
"I do," he corrects, and even though they're only repeating their father, they respond immediately.
"I do! I do!"
After he stuffs them in the chair, he says, "Can you make your monster faces?"
Erica immediately starts snarling, her monster impersonation having improved tenfold over the last few months, and Jack yells out, "Me a monster!"
Chandler grabs the camera as he laughs at them, and Erica crosses her arms, pouting. "Not funny, Daddy."
"Calm down, sassy pants," I tell her as I plunk William in between the two of them, secretly a little impressed that she put together that sentence.
"Sassy pants, sassy pants," Jack chants gleefully, and Erica's nose curls up, a sure sign that we're about to be in a world of hurt.
"Jack, don't tease your sister," Chandler says automatically the same time I say, "Erica, don't pout."
"Sassy pants," he yelps, and Erica's chin quivers. Before I can make a move, William maneuvers himself into a standing position and awkwardly turns around, throwing his arms around Erica. Her face immediately clears as she hugs him back and I swear I feel my heart swell to previously unknown proportions. The pacifier falls out of his mouth as he leans back, patting Erica's face, and she puckers her lips at him. He responds immediately, and I glance at Chandler, who looks just as misty-eyed as I feel. William turns to his brother, grinning.
"Jah!"
"Jack," he corrects, and William smiles even bigger.
"Jah!" He leans in and kisses Jack before giving him a hug, too.
I look over at Chandler, shaking my head—it doesn't matter how many times it happens, I'm always surprised at just how super sweet and affectionate my kids can be, all of them always ready for a hug and a kiss, especially for each other. "I just can't deal with this. How are we supposed to be in charge of people this cute?"
"I think they're in charge of us, Mon," he answers, his hand sliding around my waist. "We're just along for the ride."
"All right, cuddle bugs—do you just want to go to the party?" I ask, and their faces light up.
"Tricker tweating," Jack exclaims, sliding off the chair to come at us. Fortunately, they don't really get what that means yet because this year we're more or less forgoing that in exchange for going to this party. I'm pretty sure they won't walk away from the whole affair empty-handed, though. Erica slides off a moment later, and William whines as he's suddenly left alone.
"Ay!" he yells, and Erica immediately turns to him, holding out her arms. I grimace and stand behind her, waiting to be a back up just in case, but he just scoots to the edge of the chair and reaches for Erica as he tumbles into her. The both drop to their knees but other than that they manage quite nicely.
"Get your coats," Chandler tells them, and Jack hurries off into the kitchen to the mudroom. Chandler follows him part way, mostly out of force of habit to make sure he doesn't get hurt or cause trouble, but they're pretty amazingly capable of doing a lot of tasks on their own. A moment later he comes scampering back into the living room with an armload of tiny jackets.
"Eri coat," he says, dropping it at his sister's feet and Chandler immediately stoops down to hold it out for her. "Liam coat." Without hesitating, he carefully grabs William's arm, sliding the tiny coat that actually belonged to Jack at one point into place. "All done!"
"What about yours, Jack?" I ask, and he picks up the one remaining coat, holding it to me.
"Help pease, Mommy."
"Please," I tell him as he holds his arms out behind him.
"Pease," he answers, and I turn him to face me as I straighten out the coat.
"Please," I say slowly, making sure he watches my lips. "Plll." He tilts his head at me, probably wondering what I'm trying to tell him—to him, he must be saying the exact same thing I'm saying. "Puh," I say.
"Puh," he answers.
"Leeze," I finish.
"Leeze."
"Puh-leeze. Puh-leeze."
"Puh puh puh leeze."
"He sounds like Roger Rabbit," Chandler says, and I look up to see him with Erica in his arms.
"Please," she says suddenly and very clearly, and he grins at her broadly.
"They're so smart," he tells me, and Erica smiles bashfully.
"Please!" Jack looks up at me expectantly and I bite my lip to hold back my grin—it never fails. One of them does something right, gets the praise for it, and the other one will follow quickly after, ready for their own attention.
"That's right, Jack. Good job."
"Pease!"
Chandler and I look at William, who's squatting in his little robe and coat, bouncing up and down as he waits for someone to notice his achievement, too.
"William! You're super-smart, too!" I tell him, reaching out to give him a tickle. I look up at Chandler and sigh. "Why do I already feel exhausted?"
He smiles at me wearily, looking as run down as I feel. "Bulk up on the carbs, babe—I think tonight is a marathon, not a sprint. You guys ready to go?"
"Hall'ween YAY!" Erica exclaims as she wiggles and Chandler sets her on the floor, and the twins run back through the kitchen to the mudroom, William not far behind.
"You strap 'em in, I'll gather the supplies?" I ask, and he nods, leaning in to give me a kiss, swatting me playfully on the ass before he walks away.
"You got it, Tish."
"Merci, mon chere," I call to him and I hear him chuckle a little. A moment later, the door to the garage opens and I can hear him trying to control chaos.
"No running. And no pushing. C'mon, you little goober, stop wiggling. No, Jack, you can't drive."
I laugh a little as I grab the diaper bag and a tiny little duffle bag full of extra clothes and comfort toys and blankets in case of an emergency, and with the amount of sugar and general merriment they're about to be exposed to, I'm sure there'll be at least one meltdown. We considered walking over to the Leta and Derek's—it's only a couple of blocks—for about two seconds before we realized just how insane that would be with the amount of crap that just this short journey will require. We considered the strollers, but sometimes…sometimes we have to go with simple.
"Just a little change of plans," Chandler calls to me. "We're letting Erica drive over there. I told her she's too short, but she insisted."
I check the front door to make sure it's locked and hurry through the kitchen to see my husband standing in the doorway to the garage, waiting patiently. As I slide past him he tweaks me again, making me jump as I look at him over my shoulder. ":Gomez…"
"Oh, Tish, you know I love it when you speak French," he answers, and I roll my eyes. I open the car to shove the bags in, all three kids smiling at me serenely, and instantly my Mommy-sense starts tingling.
"What? What do you little demons have up your sleeves?"
"Pee pee, Mommy," Erica tells me innocently, and I groan. Of course. One of these days, hopefully sooner rather than later, we'll get the hang of asking the kids about the bathroom before we leave the house.
I reach through the car and pull her out of her seat, and I'm sure Jack won't be far behind.
Life with these kids…there's nothing like it.