the boys' special needs are minimal, but i have been referred for further interventions

Oh, blogworld. You're going to be so ashamed of me.

This afternoon we had our meeting with the district intervention team re: the boys' general mush-mouthedness. It was good news -- they will get some sort of group therapy in their kindergarten classroom, but otherwise everything seems awesome and the intervention team didn't think I was a horrible mother.

Until.

Until, Haney peed herself. (And Jason's leg.) And it was like her piss washed away the facade of good motherhood the way Tammy Faye Baker's tears washed away her mascara, and suddenly these ladies saw me for who I am.

A big freaking fake.

And I wanted to be like, "I'M NOT A FAKE! HERE'S A LINK TO MY BLOG! FAILURE TRANSPARENCY IS ONE OF MY 2010 INITIATIVES!" But then I remembered that I'm supposed to pretend I don't embrace failure, and that I actually strive for something more.

Lady: Are you toilet training?
ME: Oh crap, I actually considered myself to be finished with this one... "Toilet training?" Who says that? Um, oh, yes, she's actually doing very well... 
Lady: Ah.
ME: Digging in my bag, realizing I've switched from the McGuyver bag to another one, frantically dig through the bag's linty recesses, come up empty... Oh, I don't have anything...
Jason: I'll take her to the car.
ME: Yeah, maybe there's something in the car...
Lady: You suck.
ME: !! Oh, I only imagined that. 

[Jason takes Hanes to the car, and returns with her dressed in a white towel I'd stowed in the back for soccer-mud emergencies. Also, I accidentally put this in HTML on my first version of this post. How? I don't know! Apparently some part of my brain is fluent in HTML.]

Ladies: WTF? What kind of mother takes her "toilet training" child out in public without a spare set of clothing? OH, good job Dad! Nicely done! That dad is so awesome. How did this loser mom land him? Probably he has to pick up all her slack, and that's why he is able to find a towel and wrap it around his little girl, instead of letting her walk around in a shirt and crocs like this mom would no doubt do.
ME: Interesting move with the towel. I would have just gone with a shirt and crocs. She'd be like Winnie the Pooh, but with shoes on.

After my sucktastic momming skillz were revealed, the ladies started giving me really basic advice. Stuff that's totally Mom 101. Things like, 

"Try interacting with the boys one-on-one," and

"Model correct speech sounds." 

I was like, "So, should I hit them when they say things wrong? Would mocking and ridicule help? Should I start addressing them as 'Twin' and 'Other-One Twin?' How do you change a diaper? I keep forgetting -- is it always shake a baby, or never shake a baby?"

It was because they knew I was a loser parent, as soon as my McGuyver bag failed me. They made some mention of "green folders" for the children who are referred for intervention, but I bet you anything the green folders are for the kids whose parents are LOSERS. I can only hope that green folder/loser parents also equates to free school lunch.