This is a story about poop

Instead of publicly thanking MamaBlogga for honoring me with a Rockin' Girl Blogger Award -- my very first blogging award -- and then bestowing the title on other rockin' girl bloggers, I'm going to write about Zen.

Zen for me was starting this day knowing that finally, finally, finally the girls would be moved into their bigger room, the same room we had been preserving for guests -- like grandmothers -- to spend nights upon nights in order to be with their granddaughters as much as possible. Since that isn't happening, we decided to give that precious room to Jadyn and Liana.

Zen for me was knowing that instead of being crammed into their quaint little nursery-sized room any longer, we would all comfortably sit on the floor to read books, giggle and dance before bed and first thing each morning. After all, some of the best moments in motherhood are at the start and end of the day.

Zen for me was realizing how hard we have worked this last week in both painting the dining room and then the new girls' room. It was a ton of work, but all really worth it -- even if Da! and I didn't have much of a relaxing vacation. We were productive, and productive has its merits, too.

Zen for me was sitting back, cross legged on the floor, and staring up at my sweet, freshly bathed girls in their cribs, now next to each other like true twins. They practiced flopping back on their crib mattresses, as if they were as new as the room. They practiced touching hands through the crib slats, and then giggled.

Zen for me was sitting on my bed, close to the monitor, sorting through mounds of recipes to figure out what to buy at the store -- while listening closely to each sound they made during their first few minutes alone, at bedtime, in their new room. All was quiet; I was proud. Those books I gave them before parting ways must have been all they needed. I couldn't believe how adapted they became to the new room so easily. What great baby girls they are!

Zen for me was writing down every essential grocery item needed for the next two weeks, including two meals for families who have welcomed new babies recently. I love thinking of ways to help new mothers of twins; I so needed all the help I could get in that first year. Chocolate chip cookies were among those favorites of mine.

Zen became a bit scattered in the next few minutes, though. Liana screamed. I mean, screamed, like a boogie man jumped out of the closet or like her leg was cut off by the air conditioner. I ran in to see what was the matter.

There, I found her sitting comfortably, smiling by this point. Her fingers were covered in black goo. As I try to move her out the mess, which was scattered about on her mattress, I searched around and around the new room for what she could have gotten a hold of that would be so black, so sticky -- all the while I'm gathering it up, blotting the big piece with the little shards, like Play-doh. Then, it hits me ... the smell, perhaps, the feeling of it, the color ... it was poop. She had been playing with shit.

But, wait, where did this Shit come from? Wait. Jadyn had been the one to seem like she needed to poop right before bed. Jadyn was the one.

Zen, for me, is realizing that my almost 18-month-old twin daughters just spent the last 10 minutes of their lives learning to share for the very first time by passing turds back and forth between their cribs.

Zen hit me again, while they were soaking in their second bath for the night, when I realized that playing with poop is a lot like playing with Play-doh, only they try to eat Play-doh.

Oh, goodness ...