I Need a Therapist, a Blackberry (& to bake an apple pie)

No nap this afternoon. I popped them into their respective crib and bed, walked out, left the door slightly ajar and sat on the steps 'eavesdropping'.

"Would you like a cup of tea", A asked C, to which C said "yeah."

I heard shuffling. A told C "Vamos leer un libro (We are going to read a book)."

I had to put my hand over my mouth and resist my urge to pee as I heard A explain to C that "mommy doesn't speak English." That is what I tell her to keep her speaking to me in Spanish.

Feeling guilty about what I was doing I walked in. They both shrieked with excitement. They were both in the crib, leafing through a Spanish picture book. A sweet memory that I am sure will fade in time.

The rest of the afternoon was spent, them overtired fighting for my attention and overly sensitive.  They seem to idolize me at the moment and it is a nice feeling to be looked up to. They are eager to be a part of whatever I am doing and it seems to be like me. But it brings me great sadness at the same time. I don't feel worthy. I've always been a bit boring and blended in generally. Never too smart. Never too creative. Never to dramatic. Never too pretty. Never too fit. And my goodness I have never broken any rules, so as a result I never stood out for bad reasons either.

I don't want that for my girls. I mean, I don't want them to break too many rules but I'd like for them to stand out, for good reasons of course. Live a little.

So I have been thinking about seeing a therapist to see why I am so darn boring and why I always played it so safe. Plus, all good bloggers have therapists. Don't they?

I also hate my iPhone and have about a dozen apples in my kitchen.