At long last, I finally got video of the boys walking. It's been weeks since they first learned to walk, so they're much more adept at it than they were in the beginning. So it's a little misleading for this to be the first ever viewing of their walking skills. But it's still cute.
Things to note in this video:
1. Dean's dogged attempts to steal whatever Cary has.
2. Cary's attempts to get away from Dean (scooting on his butt).
3. Dean seemingly taunting Cary (even though I doubt that's what he really was doing).
4. How Cary has figured out that if he can't get back whatever Dean has stolen from him, that he can just get up and get something else. (Smart boy!)
5. Yes, I let my children walk around with the toothpaste and the saline spray bottle. And what of it?! Look how happy Cary is to have the saline spray! He even pretends to spray it in his nose, while making a little sniffing sound! See? It's a learning tool!!
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Uhhhhs and dahhhhhs
One thing I was not prepared for about being a parent was how extreme the ups and downs would be. And I don't mean from one month to the next, or one milestone to the next. I mean from one moment to the next.
Yesterday when I got home from work, my two babies were on a warpath. They were screechy and whiny and refused to eat their dinner. They threw food on the floor and cried because bananas were not on the menu.
They only nominally enjoyed their bath -- usually a highlight of their day -- and one baby pooped in the tub (a different baby than last time, mind you) causing Lester and me to have to corral two soapy babies on the bathroom floor, while he cleaned out the tub, washed off the tub toys, ran new bath water and started all over again. The starting all over again sparked a cacophony of protests and wailing, as they were having fun crawling naked on the floor and getting into all the things they know they shouldn't. And it sent the whole rest of the night into a downward spiral.
At 2 a.m., Cary woke up screeching. He wanted me to pat him on the back and/or hold him all night, and I obliged for a while,with both activities, but at 3:30, it was time for me to get some sleep -- and him, too, for that matter. So I let him cry until 4:15 when he finally petered out.
Needless to say, this morning, I was thinking, bleary-eyed and jittery, "This parenting thing is a serious DOWN."
And then, while playing with toys on the floor this morning, Cary and Dean discovered a little Playskool lion. Immediately, Cary started waving the lion in the air, singing, "eeemum-mum-ay," which is his way of singing the hook from "The Lion Sleeps Tonight," one of the boys' absolute favorite songs. Dean saw Cary singing and joined in, waving his arms from side-to-side, saying, "mum-mum-mum." Then they both looked toward the iPod dock, and at me, and back at the iPod dock, as if to say, "Play it Mommy!"
I put the song on the iPod, and Dean wanted to be picked up, so he could dance with me. "Uhhhhh?!" he said, looking adorable. I picked him up and he grinned so sweetly, I couldn't help but shower him with kisses. Then Cary began pulling at my pants leg, pleading "Uhhhh! Uhhhh!" so I picked him up, too.
Picture me with two big baby boys in her arms, swaying to the music, grinning wildly, singing, "A wee-mum-mum-mum-a-way." We danced and spun around and sang. I kissed them and they giggled. Cary rubbed his thumb and pointer finger together, imitating snapping. Dean laid his head on my shoulder, and his hair smelled delicious, like sleep and coconut oil and little baby.
The boys were so happy, they couldn't stop smiling. And I was in what can only be described as parent heaven.
They were crushed when the dance-a-thon had to end so I could go to work -- even though I played the song twice -- but I know I really made my sweeties happy this morning. And isn't that all we want, as parents?
On my way to my car, I thought, "This parenting thing is a major UP!" And I didn't even really feel tired all day at work, despite the night we had.
Now I know for certain that parenting is filled with uhhhs and dahhhs -- sometimes coming one behind the other, fast and furious, without warning. But the good news is the uhhhs will come. And boy are they sweet.
Yesterday when I got home from work, my two babies were on a warpath. They were screechy and whiny and refused to eat their dinner. They threw food on the floor and cried because bananas were not on the menu.
They only nominally enjoyed their bath -- usually a highlight of their day -- and one baby pooped in the tub (a different baby than last time, mind you) causing Lester and me to have to corral two soapy babies on the bathroom floor, while he cleaned out the tub, washed off the tub toys, ran new bath water and started all over again. The starting all over again sparked a cacophony of protests and wailing, as they were having fun crawling naked on the floor and getting into all the things they know they shouldn't. And it sent the whole rest of the night into a downward spiral.
At 2 a.m., Cary woke up screeching. He wanted me to pat him on the back and/or hold him all night, and I obliged for a while,with both activities, but at 3:30, it was time for me to get some sleep -- and him, too, for that matter. So I let him cry until 4:15 when he finally petered out.
Needless to say, this morning, I was thinking, bleary-eyed and jittery, "This parenting thing is a serious DOWN."
And then, while playing with toys on the floor this morning, Cary and Dean discovered a little Playskool lion. Immediately, Cary started waving the lion in the air, singing, "eeemum-mum-ay," which is his way of singing the hook from "The Lion Sleeps Tonight," one of the boys' absolute favorite songs. Dean saw Cary singing and joined in, waving his arms from side-to-side, saying, "mum-mum-mum." Then they both looked toward the iPod dock, and at me, and back at the iPod dock, as if to say, "Play it Mommy!"
I put the song on the iPod, and Dean wanted to be picked up, so he could dance with me. "Uhhhhh?!" he said, looking adorable. I picked him up and he grinned so sweetly, I couldn't help but shower him with kisses. Then Cary began pulling at my pants leg, pleading "Uhhhh! Uhhhh!" so I picked him up, too.
Picture me with two big baby boys in her arms, swaying to the music, grinning wildly, singing, "A wee-mum-mum-mum-a-way." We danced and spun around and sang. I kissed them and they giggled. Cary rubbed his thumb and pointer finger together, imitating snapping. Dean laid his head on my shoulder, and his hair smelled delicious, like sleep and coconut oil and little baby.
The boys were so happy, they couldn't stop smiling. And I was in what can only be described as parent heaven.
They were crushed when the dance-a-thon had to end so I could go to work -- even though I played the song twice -- but I know I really made my sweeties happy this morning. And isn't that all we want, as parents?
On my way to my car, I thought, "This parenting thing is a major UP!" And I didn't even really feel tired all day at work, despite the night we had.
Now I know for certain that parenting is filled with uhhhs and dahhhs -- sometimes coming one behind the other, fast and furious, without warning. But the good news is the uhhhs will come. And boy are they sweet.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Two babies, two brownies. Twice the craziness, half the patience
Since I last wrote, Cary has decided that he must wake up at 6:15, or 6:00 or even 5:45 a.m. and whine until we're worried he'll wake Dean. So then we put him in our bed for a few minutes or half-hour or so, because I don't get up until 6:30, and he either whines the whole time to get down, tries to pull everything off the nightstands or sometimes -- gloriously -- goes back to sleep!
He is totally adorable in our big bed, swallowed up by pillows, but seriously, I cannot make a habit out of this! The problem is, the alternative is getting up and getting ready for work when HE decides it's time to get up. Either way, the 14-month-old wins. How is that possible?
Also, since I last wrote, Dean has become even more of a handful than he ever was. He is willful, obstinate, defiant and angry. He throws toys when he's mad (which is a lot); he takes his anger out on Cary. He only wants to do what he wants to do at all times. And if you don't do what he wants, watch out! The other day, Lester leaned in to kiss me, and Dean pushed his face away from me as hard as he could, and then yanked my face by my chin to face him. At first, we weren't sure if what we thought happened had really happened, so Lester leaned in to kiss me again, and Dean did it again! My 14-month-old is possessive and jealous, and hits me when he's mad. Helllo...I'm in an abusive relationship!!
Also, Lester and I went to the doctor and discovered that -- Praise the Lord -- there's only one baby in there! Thank God. Seriously. Everything seems to be just fine in there, and we saw the little gummy bear waving its little nubs around. So, I guess I can no longer be in denial. There it is, in black and white, with a little frantic flicker of a heartbeat and an EDD of February 28.
Meanwhile, I've been getting snippy with folks, which is really not in my nature. I wrote a mean comment to a Baltimore Sun editorial, and posted something highly judgmental on a friend's Facebook status. The boys were so insane tonight at dinner, I had to have TWO brownies after they went to bed to chill out. Yes, this was a two-brownie night.
Will I need three brownies after February 28? Something tells me I absolutely will.
He is totally adorable in our big bed, swallowed up by pillows, but seriously, I cannot make a habit out of this! The problem is, the alternative is getting up and getting ready for work when HE decides it's time to get up. Either way, the 14-month-old wins. How is that possible?
Also, since I last wrote, Dean has become even more of a handful than he ever was. He is willful, obstinate, defiant and angry. He throws toys when he's mad (which is a lot); he takes his anger out on Cary. He only wants to do what he wants to do at all times. And if you don't do what he wants, watch out! The other day, Lester leaned in to kiss me, and Dean pushed his face away from me as hard as he could, and then yanked my face by my chin to face him. At first, we weren't sure if what we thought happened had really happened, so Lester leaned in to kiss me again, and Dean did it again! My 14-month-old is possessive and jealous, and hits me when he's mad. Helllo...I'm in an abusive relationship!!
Also, Lester and I went to the doctor and discovered that -- Praise the Lord -- there's only one baby in there! Thank God. Seriously. Everything seems to be just fine in there, and we saw the little gummy bear waving its little nubs around. So, I guess I can no longer be in denial. There it is, in black and white, with a little frantic flicker of a heartbeat and an EDD of February 28.
Meanwhile, I've been getting snippy with folks, which is really not in my nature. I wrote a mean comment to a Baltimore Sun editorial, and posted something highly judgmental on a friend's Facebook status. The boys were so insane tonight at dinner, I had to have TWO brownies after they went to bed to chill out. Yes, this was a two-brownie night.
Will I need three brownies after February 28? Something tells me I absolutely will.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Cats on a Hot Tin Roof
In "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof," a whole lotta crazy shiznit happened because it was so darn hot outside.
I feel like my life is imitating that movie/play, except I have TWO cats and the hot tin roof is my entire house.
It has been like 1 million degrees here for the past week or so. It is so unbearably hot that summer camp programs have been closed and health officials have been warning people not to do anything outdoors if they can help it, even go to outdoor swimming pools. The air quality is so bad, people have been dropping dead. It is HAWT.
We have air conditioning in the house (this is something that has to be said, because many old rowhouses like ours in the city don't), but I think the heat has simmered its way into my house and melted the babies' good sense.
Those two acted like pure fools this morning. I mean CRAZY. Remember that song "Insane in the Membrane?" Yah. That's them.
It started the night before, actually, when Cary woke up at 10 p.m. and proceeded to holler -- and I do mean holler. We tried a bottle - nope. His lovey - nope. Diaper check - all clear. Orajel - smacked his lips and smiled, but went right back to hollering. Finally, I had to sit with him in the rocking chair and hold him for about 30 minutes, and he calmed down enough to go back in his bed, quietly.
At 10 after 11, he was at it again. This time, we let him "work it out," which took until sometime after midnight. Throughout this ordeal, Dean never seemed to actually wake up, but he tossed and turned and groaned a lot.
I prayed the interruption in sleep would mean Cary wouldn't wake up until at least 7 this morning, but he was wailing -- really, wailing -- at 5:55 a.m. And this time, Dean decided to just forget about trying to sleep. So he was up, too.
Needless to say, both were exceedingly tired. Lester had to leave at 6:30 a.m., which is unusual, so I had to handle both babies myself this morning and get ready for work.
Let me just say that those two tiny terrorists took meltdown to another level. There were more tears today than I've seen in weeks! They flailed about on the floor; they threw Cheerios at me; they tried to kill one another over an infant's Tylenol bottle they unearthed from a drawer they KNOW they're not supposed to go in; they wanted me to hold them and they screamed when I did; they wanted to eat, then NO! No! NOOOOOOOO!!! they HATE eating!!
It was mayhem.
At 7:45, when the soft music, the rocking, the kisses, the distractions, the snacks, the toys and the pleading with them all failed miserably, I poured them some milk in bottles, marched them up the stairs and put them back to bed.
They were out in 10 seconds.
I then proceeded to collapse on the couch, intending to rest for a few minutes before getting up to finish getting ready for work. Instead, I was in a coma until Michelle knocked on the front door at 8:30 to start her day. Needless to say, I was late for work!
I swear, it has to be the heat making them this crazy. What else could it be? Oy!
Let's pray a cold front comes in ASAP. Either that, or we're moving to Alaska.
(P.S. The boys were crazy this morning, but boy did that 45-minute nap feel good!)
I feel like my life is imitating that movie/play, except I have TWO cats and the hot tin roof is my entire house.
It has been like 1 million degrees here for the past week or so. It is so unbearably hot that summer camp programs have been closed and health officials have been warning people not to do anything outdoors if they can help it, even go to outdoor swimming pools. The air quality is so bad, people have been dropping dead. It is HAWT.
We have air conditioning in the house (this is something that has to be said, because many old rowhouses like ours in the city don't), but I think the heat has simmered its way into my house and melted the babies' good sense.
Those two acted like pure fools this morning. I mean CRAZY. Remember that song "Insane in the Membrane?" Yah. That's them.
It started the night before, actually, when Cary woke up at 10 p.m. and proceeded to holler -- and I do mean holler. We tried a bottle - nope. His lovey - nope. Diaper check - all clear. Orajel - smacked his lips and smiled, but went right back to hollering. Finally, I had to sit with him in the rocking chair and hold him for about 30 minutes, and he calmed down enough to go back in his bed, quietly.
At 10 after 11, he was at it again. This time, we let him "work it out," which took until sometime after midnight. Throughout this ordeal, Dean never seemed to actually wake up, but he tossed and turned and groaned a lot.
I prayed the interruption in sleep would mean Cary wouldn't wake up until at least 7 this morning, but he was wailing -- really, wailing -- at 5:55 a.m. And this time, Dean decided to just forget about trying to sleep. So he was up, too.
Needless to say, both were exceedingly tired. Lester had to leave at 6:30 a.m., which is unusual, so I had to handle both babies myself this morning and get ready for work.
Let me just say that those two tiny terrorists took meltdown to another level. There were more tears today than I've seen in weeks! They flailed about on the floor; they threw Cheerios at me; they tried to kill one another over an infant's Tylenol bottle they unearthed from a drawer they KNOW they're not supposed to go in; they wanted me to hold them and they screamed when I did; they wanted to eat, then NO! No! NOOOOOOOO!!! they HATE eating!!
It was mayhem.
At 7:45, when the soft music, the rocking, the kisses, the distractions, the snacks, the toys and the pleading with them all failed miserably, I poured them some milk in bottles, marched them up the stairs and put them back to bed.
They were out in 10 seconds.
I then proceeded to collapse on the couch, intending to rest for a few minutes before getting up to finish getting ready for work. Instead, I was in a coma until Michelle knocked on the front door at 8:30 to start her day. Needless to say, I was late for work!
I swear, it has to be the heat making them this crazy. What else could it be? Oy!
Let's pray a cold front comes in ASAP. Either that, or we're moving to Alaska.
(P.S. The boys were crazy this morning, but boy did that 45-minute nap feel good!)
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Feeling tired; feeling like a Mom
It's quiet here right now, as the boys went to bed about 15 minutes ago, and seem to actually be sleeping, as opposed to whining or "talking" to one another, or throwing their bottles and loveys out of the cribs.
Lester is reading Esquire magazine in his boxers, undershirt and black work socks, and I am stretched out on the bed thanking God for these few moments of rest and peace.
I am at that point where exhaustion is an understatement for how I feel during the day, and it doesn't help that it's been 100+ degrees here for the last few days. I came up the stairs today to bring the boys' pajamas up from the laundry and when I got to the top, I had to bend over and pant from the effort. I find myself more and more grabbing a pillow off the couch when I'm having floor time with the babies, trying to steal a few winks while they play (Which they hate! They come over and peel at my face, or poke my nose). And I am barely getting through the work days, so tired and spaced out am I.
I remember this feeling from last time, but last time I could get straight in the bed when I got home from work. Last time, I could nap my weekends away. This time, everything has changed.
I am a Mommy.
If I never really felt it before, I sure do now. I feel the way my mother looked to me on many evenings, after work, as she tried to get dinner on the table for the five of us, and straighten up before my Dad came home. I feel the way my grandmother looked when she would wash the dinner dishes while leaning her forehead against the cabinet door in front of her, just for that simple relief from having to hold her head up herself. I feel the way so many other women must have felt -- or currently feel -- as they find it within themselves somewhere to soldier through the days, despite bone-sucking exhaustion, and the pull of gravity more severe than it ever has been before. Seriously, couldn't you just fall to the floor sometimes, if you thought you could get away with it? And sleep for hours?
I think just about every afternoon at the office that tonight will absolutely be the night that I ask Lester to please let me disappear when I get home from work - just this once - to sneak in a little nap, while he handles dinner and bath time himself. But every afternoon, it never fails, I come home, see those two little smiling, peanut-butter or banana-smelling faces, scoop them up, give them a thousand kisses, and by the time that's over, I know there's no way I'd miss a night with them just because I'm tired.
So I soldier through. Because that's what Mommies do.
And I don't think that's something I'll ever get tired of.
Lester is reading Esquire magazine in his boxers, undershirt and black work socks, and I am stretched out on the bed thanking God for these few moments of rest and peace.
I am at that point where exhaustion is an understatement for how I feel during the day, and it doesn't help that it's been 100+ degrees here for the last few days. I came up the stairs today to bring the boys' pajamas up from the laundry and when I got to the top, I had to bend over and pant from the effort. I find myself more and more grabbing a pillow off the couch when I'm having floor time with the babies, trying to steal a few winks while they play (Which they hate! They come over and peel at my face, or poke my nose). And I am barely getting through the work days, so tired and spaced out am I.
I remember this feeling from last time, but last time I could get straight in the bed when I got home from work. Last time, I could nap my weekends away. This time, everything has changed.
I am a Mommy.
If I never really felt it before, I sure do now. I feel the way my mother looked to me on many evenings, after work, as she tried to get dinner on the table for the five of us, and straighten up before my Dad came home. I feel the way my grandmother looked when she would wash the dinner dishes while leaning her forehead against the cabinet door in front of her, just for that simple relief from having to hold her head up herself. I feel the way so many other women must have felt -- or currently feel -- as they find it within themselves somewhere to soldier through the days, despite bone-sucking exhaustion, and the pull of gravity more severe than it ever has been before. Seriously, couldn't you just fall to the floor sometimes, if you thought you could get away with it? And sleep for hours?
I think just about every afternoon at the office that tonight will absolutely be the night that I ask Lester to please let me disappear when I get home from work - just this once - to sneak in a little nap, while he handles dinner and bath time himself. But every afternoon, it never fails, I come home, see those two little smiling, peanut-butter or banana-smelling faces, scoop them up, give them a thousand kisses, and by the time that's over, I know there's no way I'd miss a night with them just because I'm tired.
So I soldier through. Because that's what Mommies do.
And I don't think that's something I'll ever get tired of.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Vacation/reunion download
We got back from vacation on Monday night, and I meant to blog yesterday, but I had so much to catch up on both at work and at home, that I didn't even open my laptop.
So I'm a few days late with the update, which means a few days removed from the drama, which means I can talk about the trip without using as many superlatives and exclamation points as I probably would have if I'd blogged any earlier.
But here's the summary:
Twin 14-month-old boys on a plane = AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! to the nth degree.
Twin 14-month-old boys in a strange place sleeping in uncomfortable pack n plays = No naps. Ultra early mornings (before 6 a.m.) and incredibly sleepy, whiny, cranky, unreasonable babies.
Also, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!
Family reunion = Wonderful.
Lobster with pounds of butter and lemon = Heaven.
Coming back to work and trying to get back into the schedule = A struggle.
So, there you have it in a nutshell.
Highlights, you ask?
Hmmm....well, on the plane headed to Boston, Dean screeched and screamed so much (and his screech is ear-splitting) that one woman began lecturing Lester about what "Dr. Spock" has to say about stopping babies from crying. Lester was really sweet, and even put Dean's 25+-lb. wriggling body on his lap, lying on his big ole belly, because that ole lady suggested he do that to calm him down. Dean. My willful toddler who is not, contrary to that lady's belief, an infant. That lady is lucky she wasn't sitting in the row in front of me, instead of in front of Lester, because I was in no mood to entertain her know-it-all-ness, and I would likely have said some things to her that I would have had to pray about later. Needless to say, lying Dean on his belly made him scream even worse.
Also, headed off the plane, another scrunch-face lady walked by and said to me, "He is a VERY unhappy baby!" in a tone that implied we were VERY bad parents, and Dean was sure to be a serial killer some day. I know my child has a wail on him, and he can keep it up for a reallllly long time if he wants to. But he is NOT unhappy, lady. And if he does become a serial killer, I hope she is his first victim.
(Is that wrong?)
Here we are in the airport, before all you-know-what broke loose. You can tell from the grumpy looks on their faces that it's jusssssst about to happen. This is what plane travel with no morning nap will get you.
Other highlights: Did I mention the pre-6 a.m. morning wake-up calls? Which consisted of Cary yelling, "Dah! Dah! Dah! DAH! DAAAH!" over and over again? I was so happy when he learned to say "down," but how on Earth could I have known that he would torture me so with it?
OK, there were some really good moments, I have to admit:
Cary LOVED seeing the planes in the airport. He now says "penh" for plane, and can spot one in the air when it is just a speck, miles away. He goes CRAZY for planes. And he and Dean also learned to say "buh" for bus, watching all the buses go back and forth in the passenger pick-up section of the airport. They totally heart buses. And trucks.
Dean wandered over to a random couple in the airport, and totally sat on the woman's lap, while munching on a Gerber biscuit. She was in heaven, and he was as content as a lap-cat. It was the funniest thing. It was like she was just a chair to him. When he was finished with his biscuit, he wanted nothing more to do with her.
Dean also met a girl in the airport, who he apparently decided was his girlfriend, because they kept holding hands. It was so cute.
Cary spent countless hours pushing the stroller around all weekend. This brought much enjoyment to people at the airport who found it hysterical that he (slight as he is) was able to walk. Some lady asked me if he was 9 months old! Ha! My sweetie is bony, but he's not that short. Gracious! He was serious about pushing that stroller around, though.
Cary and Dean were the hit of the family reunion. As the only twins for generations (I think there were some waaaay back), people were fascinated with them and so in love. And there were so many children that Cary always had someone to follow around, and Dean always had some willing 10-, 11- or 12-year-old girl to carry him around. They were both as giddy as pigs in dirt.
(And boy was it dirty out there at Houghton Pond. My boys have never been so filthy!)
Seeing all my cousins from my childhood and aunts and uncles was really great. In the spirit of nostalgia, here's a picture of me and my cousin Nikki from sometime around 1981. That's my cousin, Dru, sulking in the background.
Eating lobster was really, really great.
All in all, despite the madness, Lester and I are glad we went on the trip. It's not something we're likely to do again very, very soon. But at least we know we can survive, without killing each other. In fact, that was another good thing about the trip. We did not yell at each other or argue even once, and this was a HIGH-STRESS situation. So, there's more proof that I totally married the right guy.
As if I needed any more proof. :-)
Here's pics from the reunion:
Nana (who is the last remaining sibling of her family, the Wests, and the host of the reunion) with 5 of her 6 children, including my Mom (the shortest one).
Nana, holding her youngest great-grandchildren, Cary and Dean (who had had just about enough of all this picture-taking, thank you very much!)
Cary and Granddad
Dean and Nana and Auntie Pam
The boys and their cousin Sydney (who Dean must've thought was a goddess dipped in chocolate, the way he smiled and lit up every time she came in the room or anywhere near him.)
And, last, but not least, my brother, Rashad, who was the highlight of this family reunion, simply by being alive to be there. Praise God.
So I'm a few days late with the update, which means a few days removed from the drama, which means I can talk about the trip without using as many superlatives and exclamation points as I probably would have if I'd blogged any earlier.
But here's the summary:
Twin 14-month-old boys on a plane = AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! to the nth degree.
Twin 14-month-old boys in a strange place sleeping in uncomfortable pack n plays = No naps. Ultra early mornings (before 6 a.m.) and incredibly sleepy, whiny, cranky, unreasonable babies.
Also, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!
Family reunion = Wonderful.
Lobster with pounds of butter and lemon = Heaven.
Coming back to work and trying to get back into the schedule = A struggle.
So, there you have it in a nutshell.
Highlights, you ask?
Hmmm....well, on the plane headed to Boston, Dean screeched and screamed so much (and his screech is ear-splitting) that one woman began lecturing Lester about what "Dr. Spock" has to say about stopping babies from crying. Lester was really sweet, and even put Dean's 25+-lb. wriggling body on his lap, lying on his big ole belly, because that ole lady suggested he do that to calm him down. Dean. My willful toddler who is not, contrary to that lady's belief, an infant. That lady is lucky she wasn't sitting in the row in front of me, instead of in front of Lester, because I was in no mood to entertain her know-it-all-ness, and I would likely have said some things to her that I would have had to pray about later. Needless to say, lying Dean on his belly made him scream even worse.
Also, headed off the plane, another scrunch-face lady walked by and said to me, "He is a VERY unhappy baby!" in a tone that implied we were VERY bad parents, and Dean was sure to be a serial killer some day. I know my child has a wail on him, and he can keep it up for a reallllly long time if he wants to. But he is NOT unhappy, lady. And if he does become a serial killer, I hope she is his first victim.
(Is that wrong?)
Here we are in the airport, before all you-know-what broke loose. You can tell from the grumpy looks on their faces that it's jusssssst about to happen. This is what plane travel with no morning nap will get you.
Other highlights: Did I mention the pre-6 a.m. morning wake-up calls? Which consisted of Cary yelling, "Dah! Dah! Dah! DAH! DAAAH!" over and over again? I was so happy when he learned to say "down," but how on Earth could I have known that he would torture me so with it?
OK, there were some really good moments, I have to admit:
Cary LOVED seeing the planes in the airport. He now says "penh" for plane, and can spot one in the air when it is just a speck, miles away. He goes CRAZY for planes. And he and Dean also learned to say "buh" for bus, watching all the buses go back and forth in the passenger pick-up section of the airport. They totally heart buses. And trucks.
Dean wandered over to a random couple in the airport, and totally sat on the woman's lap, while munching on a Gerber biscuit. She was in heaven, and he was as content as a lap-cat. It was the funniest thing. It was like she was just a chair to him. When he was finished with his biscuit, he wanted nothing more to do with her.
Dean also met a girl in the airport, who he apparently decided was his girlfriend, because they kept holding hands. It was so cute.
Cary spent countless hours pushing the stroller around all weekend. This brought much enjoyment to people at the airport who found it hysterical that he (slight as he is) was able to walk. Some lady asked me if he was 9 months old! Ha! My sweetie is bony, but he's not that short. Gracious! He was serious about pushing that stroller around, though.
Cary and Dean were the hit of the family reunion. As the only twins for generations (I think there were some waaaay back), people were fascinated with them and so in love. And there were so many children that Cary always had someone to follow around, and Dean always had some willing 10-, 11- or 12-year-old girl to carry him around. They were both as giddy as pigs in dirt.
(And boy was it dirty out there at Houghton Pond. My boys have never been so filthy!)
Seeing all my cousins from my childhood and aunts and uncles was really great. In the spirit of nostalgia, here's a picture of me and my cousin Nikki from sometime around 1981. That's my cousin, Dru, sulking in the background.
Eating lobster was really, really great.
All in all, despite the madness, Lester and I are glad we went on the trip. It's not something we're likely to do again very, very soon. But at least we know we can survive, without killing each other. In fact, that was another good thing about the trip. We did not yell at each other or argue even once, and this was a HIGH-STRESS situation. So, there's more proof that I totally married the right guy.
As if I needed any more proof. :-)
Here's pics from the reunion:
Nana (who is the last remaining sibling of her family, the Wests, and the host of the reunion) with 5 of her 6 children, including my Mom (the shortest one).
Nana, holding her youngest great-grandchildren, Cary and Dean (who had had just about enough of all this picture-taking, thank you very much!)
Cary and Granddad
Dean and Nana and Auntie Pam
The boys and their cousin Sydney (who Dean must've thought was a goddess dipped in chocolate, the way he smiled and lit up every time she came in the room or anywhere near him.)
And, last, but not least, my brother, Rashad, who was the highlight of this family reunion, simply by being alive to be there. Praise God.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Pray for us!!
Tomorrow, we are taking our first long, out-of-town trip with the boys.
We are going to Boston to a family reunion being hosted by my grandmother, who I call Nana.
And we're taking a plane.
Yikes! And also ... Lord, have mercy.
We are leaving on a 12:30 flight, and we have figured out by working backwards that we need to leave the house around 9:30 to be sure we're on that flight.
Yes, you read that right. THREE hours before the flight takes off, we need to leave the house. And the airport is 20 minutes away.
Here is a partial list of the crap we are lugging: two Pack n Plays, two carseats, a double stroller, one big suitcase (for Lester's clothes and mine), one duffel bag full of baby clothes and necessities, one baby bag (to carry on the plane) full of baby clothes and necessities, one extra carry-on bag full of toys and random other stuff, like our boarding passes and a book. ("Yeah right, Tanika," I hear you all saying. "You really think you're going to get to read a book? Hahahaahahaaa!")
Did I say, "Lord, have mercy" already?
We're only going for four days, so I'm sure I've way over-packed, but I am so nervous about traveling with babies that I think it's better to be over-prepared than under.
It's a short flight from here to Boston -- in the air only 45 minutes -- so I'm hopeful they won't get too restless on our laps. But at the same time, because we're leaving at 9:30 (the EXACT time of their morning nap), they will probably not sleep at all tomorrow morning, out of excitement, and so, by the time the plane takes off, they might be going totally bonkers.
Again, pray for us.
The good news is: There will be lobster in this for me.
We are going to Boston to a family reunion being hosted by my grandmother, who I call Nana.
And we're taking a plane.
Yikes! And also ... Lord, have mercy.
We are leaving on a 12:30 flight, and we have figured out by working backwards that we need to leave the house around 9:30 to be sure we're on that flight.
Yes, you read that right. THREE hours before the flight takes off, we need to leave the house. And the airport is 20 minutes away.
Here is a partial list of the crap we are lugging: two Pack n Plays, two carseats, a double stroller, one big suitcase (for Lester's clothes and mine), one duffel bag full of baby clothes and necessities, one baby bag (to carry on the plane) full of baby clothes and necessities, one extra carry-on bag full of toys and random other stuff, like our boarding passes and a book. ("Yeah right, Tanika," I hear you all saying. "You really think you're going to get to read a book? Hahahaahahaaa!")
Did I say, "Lord, have mercy" already?
We're only going for four days, so I'm sure I've way over-packed, but I am so nervous about traveling with babies that I think it's better to be over-prepared than under.
It's a short flight from here to Boston -- in the air only 45 minutes -- so I'm hopeful they won't get too restless on our laps. But at the same time, because we're leaving at 9:30 (the EXACT time of their morning nap), they will probably not sleep at all tomorrow morning, out of excitement, and so, by the time the plane takes off, they might be going totally bonkers.
Again, pray for us.
The good news is: There will be lobster in this for me.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Musings
The babies are walking more and more now, all over the place! It's incredible.
At one point, they would bumble a little bit between adults, and only when prompted, but now, they'll just walk from place to place, toy to toy, or get up in the middle of the room and meander over to the couch or the front door or the kitchen, like ...well, like toddlers!
I can't get over it. These are the same babies who were JUST born, like two seconds ago!
They still have a ways to go before I'd say they are walking full-time; they still prefer crawling, and fall a LOT. But I know my days are numbered. Wow -- the time really does go fast.
I promise to get video soon. They are so funny: Cary with his Frankenstein-zombie walk (hands held in the air for balance) and Dean with his George Jefferson shuffle (walk, walk, dip, walk, walk, dip) they keep Lester and me cracking up. I love how much laughter these babies have sparked.
In other news, Cary and Dean also can make me wanna cry sometimes. Lordie.
Sunday, I had an Unbalanced Mommies group meeting over brunch (YES!) and Lester took the boys to the mall, because he needed some shirts. Poor Lester barely made it two feet into the mall before Cary started acting a FOOL, and would not quit, despite all Lester's attempts to placate him with Cheerios, yogurt or fun rides through the aisles of stores going, "Wheeee!"
And then, that night, Cary woke up at 12:30 a.m. I went in, resituated him in the bed, handed him Lovey the Monkey and covered him with a blanket. At 1:15, he was was awake again. I went in, patted him on his back for a few minutes until he quieted, and then stumbled back in the bed. At 1:30 he was up again, wailing. At 2 a.m., I caved and gave him a bottle. He guzzled that like a wino, threw the empty bottle out of the crib and commenced with wailing again. Unable to even pretend like I was going to get any sleep, I retreated to the guest room, with a book and read while he screamed. I was determined not to give in to his terrorism.
But at 2:40, Lester could take no more. So he rescued Cary, and put him ............ in OUR BED. Major, major no-no! But I didn't stop him. I was sick of the screaming, too, and I had no idea what else to offer.
At 3:30, I crawled back in our bed, next to the tiny, sleeping tyrant. But I could not sleep. I was so tense, imagining all the mayhem this breech in protocol could cause down the road. Will Cary think he can get in our bed every night if he just cries long enough? Will my child be scarred for life because I let him wail for hours while I read "A Visit from the Goon Squad?"
Finally, at 4:30, I heaved his little sleeping body onto my shoulder and carried him back to his bed. I was not, under any circumstances, going to have that baby wake up in our bed. After that, he slept until 7:30 a.m. and woke up happy and smiling like nothing ever happened.
Stinker!!
Last night, I had to handle the boys by myself during the nighttime routine because Lester had to work late. I was proud of myself because there was minimal tantrum-throwing during dinner and the bath time was going swimmingly, until one baby -- who will remain nameless -- pooped in the tub. I had to remove the babies and the poop, drain the tub, clean the tub and the tub toys, and then get them back in the tub, washed and dried, which I did, without breaking a sweat!
But when Cary started crying in his bed not 20 minutes after I put him down, I almost had a mini panic-attack. He wants to get in our bed, I thought. He is ruined for life! When Dean started chiming in with his own complaining, I really thought about sticking my head in the oven.
Thank God Lester came home and thought to get the Orajel, which he rubbed generously on Cary's and Dean's gums. Five minutes later, literally, total silence. They were knocked out. And they both slept the whole night.
So here is the moral of this very long post. I am a very good Mom, yes I know. But many times, I am made a much more awesome Mom when paired up with my partner, friend and co-parent.
Thanks, honey, for all you do for the boys, for me, and for our family. I am truly blessed.
At one point, they would bumble a little bit between adults, and only when prompted, but now, they'll just walk from place to place, toy to toy, or get up in the middle of the room and meander over to the couch or the front door or the kitchen, like ...well, like toddlers!
I can't get over it. These are the same babies who were JUST born, like two seconds ago!
They still have a ways to go before I'd say they are walking full-time; they still prefer crawling, and fall a LOT. But I know my days are numbered. Wow -- the time really does go fast.
I promise to get video soon. They are so funny: Cary with his Frankenstein-zombie walk (hands held in the air for balance) and Dean with his George Jefferson shuffle (walk, walk, dip, walk, walk, dip) they keep Lester and me cracking up. I love how much laughter these babies have sparked.
In other news, Cary and Dean also can make me wanna cry sometimes. Lordie.
Sunday, I had an Unbalanced Mommies group meeting over brunch (YES!) and Lester took the boys to the mall, because he needed some shirts. Poor Lester barely made it two feet into the mall before Cary started acting a FOOL, and would not quit, despite all Lester's attempts to placate him with Cheerios, yogurt or fun rides through the aisles of stores going, "Wheeee!"
And then, that night, Cary woke up at 12:30 a.m. I went in, resituated him in the bed, handed him Lovey the Monkey and covered him with a blanket. At 1:15, he was was awake again. I went in, patted him on his back for a few minutes until he quieted, and then stumbled back in the bed. At 1:30 he was up again, wailing. At 2 a.m., I caved and gave him a bottle. He guzzled that like a wino, threw the empty bottle out of the crib and commenced with wailing again. Unable to even pretend like I was going to get any sleep, I retreated to the guest room, with a book and read while he screamed. I was determined not to give in to his terrorism.
But at 2:40, Lester could take no more. So he rescued Cary, and put him ............ in OUR BED. Major, major no-no! But I didn't stop him. I was sick of the screaming, too, and I had no idea what else to offer.
At 3:30, I crawled back in our bed, next to the tiny, sleeping tyrant. But I could not sleep. I was so tense, imagining all the mayhem this breech in protocol could cause down the road. Will Cary think he can get in our bed every night if he just cries long enough? Will my child be scarred for life because I let him wail for hours while I read "A Visit from the Goon Squad?"
Finally, at 4:30, I heaved his little sleeping body onto my shoulder and carried him back to his bed. I was not, under any circumstances, going to have that baby wake up in our bed. After that, he slept until 7:30 a.m. and woke up happy and smiling like nothing ever happened.
Stinker!!
Last night, I had to handle the boys by myself during the nighttime routine because Lester had to work late. I was proud of myself because there was minimal tantrum-throwing during dinner and the bath time was going swimmingly, until one baby -- who will remain nameless -- pooped in the tub. I had to remove the babies and the poop, drain the tub, clean the tub and the tub toys, and then get them back in the tub, washed and dried, which I did, without breaking a sweat!
But when Cary started crying in his bed not 20 minutes after I put him down, I almost had a mini panic-attack. He wants to get in our bed, I thought. He is ruined for life! When Dean started chiming in with his own complaining, I really thought about sticking my head in the oven.
Thank God Lester came home and thought to get the Orajel, which he rubbed generously on Cary's and Dean's gums. Five minutes later, literally, total silence. They were knocked out. And they both slept the whole night.
So here is the moral of this very long post. I am a very good Mom, yes I know. But many times, I am made a much more awesome Mom when paired up with my partner, friend and co-parent.
Thanks, honey, for all you do for the boys, for me, and for our family. I am truly blessed.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Hair Woes
Today's confession:
I am reading black hair care blogs because I do not know how to do my own child's hair.
This is a problem because, if you haven't noticed, I am black.
Ahem.
Isn't that sad? I am having to troll the Internets for advice about what to do with my sweetie's hair. Sad, sad and pitiful.
In my defense, there are a couple reasons why:
My hair is quite different than "normal" black hair (if there is such a thing); it's a little less coarse and curls into loose-ish waves when wet. Dean's hair, like his Dad's, is more "normal black" (if there is such a thing), so I'm out of my element a little bit, as I'm used to dealing with my own hair-type, and, truthfully, only as a full-grown adult learned what products and styling methods work best for my own hair.
And since I knew I was having boys, I thought I could avoid the hair-care problem altogether. So I pretty much ignored their hair for months.
But Dean's hair requires actual "doing," and is much drier than my hair. So it's taken me all this time (plus some chiding from my sister Tahira, who takes much better care of her hair than I do) to realize that I have not been doing him any services by 1) washing his hair every night 2) not really putting any oil in his hair 3) not brushing his hair every day.
See Exhibit A (pre-haircut) of evidence of his dry, crazy hair:
Doesn't he look like he is saying, "Mommy, why do you have me out in public with my hair looking like this? Don't you know I need some MOISTURE in my hair? And have you heard of a thing called a BRUSH?"
Who knew??
I am a terrible mother.
But I am determined to do better.
Thus - searching the Internets.
One problem I'm having during my search is that most "traditional" black hair care products are not natural, and have a lot of crap in 'em that I don't want to put on my baby's head.
And when I search for "natural" hair care products and tips, I find a lot of advice for girls, not boys. I guess that's to be expected, but it's clear (I've come to learn) that my son's hair needs attention -- maybe not for styling, but definitely for general care. I can't believe that other parents of black boys aren't in need of more information to help in this area. Where are the websites for boys? Could it be just me who is clueless? Maybe everyone else just knows what to do already. I dunno.
Anyway, I am determined to do better by my little baby, especially now that we've gotten his hair cut and you can really see how dry his little scalp is. Poor pumpkin! Mommy's gonna do better!! You just wait.
Meanwhile, I wonder if I should be doing anything differently with Cary's hair -- which is different than Dean's and Dad's, but not quite like mine either (since he's a boy). Perhaps I should stop ignoring his hair, too?
Sigh. One day I'll figure it out, I suppose. By then, pray my poor children haven't gone bald.
I am reading black hair care blogs because I do not know how to do my own child's hair.
This is a problem because, if you haven't noticed, I am black.
Ahem.
Isn't that sad? I am having to troll the Internets for advice about what to do with my sweetie's hair. Sad, sad and pitiful.
In my defense, there are a couple reasons why:
My hair is quite different than "normal" black hair (if there is such a thing); it's a little less coarse and curls into loose-ish waves when wet. Dean's hair, like his Dad's, is more "normal black" (if there is such a thing), so I'm out of my element a little bit, as I'm used to dealing with my own hair-type, and, truthfully, only as a full-grown adult learned what products and styling methods work best for my own hair.
And since I knew I was having boys, I thought I could avoid the hair-care problem altogether. So I pretty much ignored their hair for months.
But Dean's hair requires actual "doing," and is much drier than my hair. So it's taken me all this time (plus some chiding from my sister Tahira, who takes much better care of her hair than I do) to realize that I have not been doing him any services by 1) washing his hair every night 2) not really putting any oil in his hair 3) not brushing his hair every day.
See Exhibit A (pre-haircut) of evidence of his dry, crazy hair:
Doesn't he look like he is saying, "Mommy, why do you have me out in public with my hair looking like this? Don't you know I need some MOISTURE in my hair? And have you heard of a thing called a BRUSH?"
Who knew??
I am a terrible mother.
But I am determined to do better.
Thus - searching the Internets.
One problem I'm having during my search is that most "traditional" black hair care products are not natural, and have a lot of crap in 'em that I don't want to put on my baby's head.
And when I search for "natural" hair care products and tips, I find a lot of advice for girls, not boys. I guess that's to be expected, but it's clear (I've come to learn) that my son's hair needs attention -- maybe not for styling, but definitely for general care. I can't believe that other parents of black boys aren't in need of more information to help in this area. Where are the websites for boys? Could it be just me who is clueless? Maybe everyone else just knows what to do already. I dunno.
Anyway, I am determined to do better by my little baby, especially now that we've gotten his hair cut and you can really see how dry his little scalp is. Poor pumpkin! Mommy's gonna do better!! You just wait.
Meanwhile, I wonder if I should be doing anything differently with Cary's hair -- which is different than Dean's and Dad's, but not quite like mine either (since he's a boy). Perhaps I should stop ignoring his hair, too?
Sigh. One day I'll figure it out, I suppose. By then, pray my poor children haven't gone bald.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Words and sounds of the Davis boys
Since I don't keep a traditional baby book, I need to post here the exciting things my children can do. Walking (a little bit) is exciting, but nothing is more thrilling to me than hearing them begin to verbalize more and more. One day, I'll be able to have a conversation with my sweeties and know what they're thinking! (Until they become teenagers and lock themselves in their rooms, armed with iPods and earphones)...
Until then, here are some of the words and sounds the boys say and/or mimic:
Dean
Keep up the good work, boys!
It seems as if Cary is more verbal right now than Dean, but Dean is holding his own. Also, Dean is way more physical than Cary. He can crawl all the way up the stairs unassisted, whereas Cary cries at the bottom of the stairs for someone to carry him (divo!)...Dean also has learned how to climb up both the little ladder and the slide on the climbing toy we got them for their birthday. Cary just looks on in envy.
So, the boys will do things in their own time, at their own pace. One thing I am proud of about myself as a parent is that (at least in this one area) I am pretty level-headed about that fact.
Meanwhile, note to Davis boys:
I know it might be asking a lot, but could you work on saying "Mama," when you see me, instead of Dada?!
Thanks! Love you!
Until then, here are some of the words and sounds the boys say and/or mimic:
Dean
- Bbbbbu = ball
- Zhhuu = shoe
- pooooo = spoon
- Deeeee = Dean
- cap-cap = clap clap (from Skippyjon Jones)
- uh = up
- dah = down
- Dada = Daddy (and sometimes Mommy)
- ah-AH = uh-oh
- Nana = banana
- shoo = shoe
- poon = spoon
- boon = balloon
- dan = fan
- man = man (or woman, or boy or girl)
- Dee = Dean
- Dada = Daddy and Mommy, interchangeably
- brruh = brush
- boo-ruh = toothbrush
- cap-cap = clap clap (from Skippyjon Jones)
- uh-nuh = hello! (holding any oblong object up to his ear)
- uh = up
- dah = down
- cak cak = quack quack (duck)
- brrmm brrrm = tractor or car
- boom boom = Chicka Chicka Boom Boom
- mamamamama = "Mama, Mama, Mama" from the book "Please, Baby, Please"
- ah-ah-ah-ah-ah! = monkey sound
- eeemum-mum-mum-ay = "The Lion Sleeps Tonight"
- (growling) "Grrrdah" = when he sees my Dad (Granddad), because he has a gruff voice
- ah-AH = uh-oh
Keep up the good work, boys!
It seems as if Cary is more verbal right now than Dean, but Dean is holding his own. Also, Dean is way more physical than Cary. He can crawl all the way up the stairs unassisted, whereas Cary cries at the bottom of the stairs for someone to carry him (divo!)...Dean also has learned how to climb up both the little ladder and the slide on the climbing toy we got them for their birthday. Cary just looks on in envy.
So, the boys will do things in their own time, at their own pace. One thing I am proud of about myself as a parent is that (at least in this one area) I am pretty level-headed about that fact.
Meanwhile, note to Davis boys:
I know it might be asking a lot, but could you work on saying "Mama," when you see me, instead of Dada?!
Thanks! Love you!
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Embrace the insanity
Dean's first haircut!
This weekend, Dean got his first haircut and both boys started walking!
They're still very unsteady on their feet -- and they only take 6 or 7 steps before falling into someone's arms, and then resorting back to crawling -- but they both did it! How crazy is it that they both started walking on the same day? This is probably the first milestone that they've hit together, or even close to together for that matter.
I'll try to get video soon, but it usually happens so fast, I don't have time to do anything but sit there and hold my breath and then it's over.
Also, we got Dean a haircut for the first time this weekend. I took totally cute pictures of him wailing, and then smiling at his newly-shorn look, but I left my camera at my mom and dad's! Grrrr!!
So, you'll have to wait for those pictures as well. Clearly, I suck.
(Edited 7/12 to show PHOTOS of the HAIRCUT! Whoo-hoo!!)
Here's Dean, realizing that he does NOT like the sound of those clippers:
When the very nice barber said, "OK, sweetie, all done!" he looked at her as if to say, "Really? You really mean it?" It was so cute!
And then, out of nowhere, he burst into this grin, like, "Check me out! I look smokin'!"
Which he totally does! With a haircut and 2.5 teeth, my baby boy looks like a whole new person. Such a big boy!
In other news, I have been feeling pretty down about the news I reported last week (right here on this blog!) because I really have no idea how this is going to work. So my friend Kelly sent me this video (letting me know what's in store for me and Lester, in terms of transporting three small children around):
Swagger Wagon
Hysterical -- this video definitely lifted my spirits! Never thought I was the mini-van type, but God clearly has other plans for me.
When Kelly sent me the link to the video, her advice to me was: "Embrace the insanity."
Good advice, Kel. I think I'm going to put that right up there on the list with, "Ignore the tray."
This weekend, Dean got his first haircut and both boys started walking!
They're still very unsteady on their feet -- and they only take 6 or 7 steps before falling into someone's arms, and then resorting back to crawling -- but they both did it! How crazy is it that they both started walking on the same day? This is probably the first milestone that they've hit together, or even close to together for that matter.
I'll try to get video soon, but it usually happens so fast, I don't have time to do anything but sit there and hold my breath and then it's over.
Also, we got Dean a haircut for the first time this weekend. I took totally cute pictures of him wailing, and then smiling at his newly-shorn look, but I left my camera at my mom and dad's! Grrrr!!
So, you'll have to wait for those pictures as well. Clearly, I suck.
(Edited 7/12 to show PHOTOS of the HAIRCUT! Whoo-hoo!!)
Here's Dean, realizing that he does NOT like the sound of those clippers:
When the very nice barber said, "OK, sweetie, all done!" he looked at her as if to say, "Really? You really mean it?" It was so cute!
And then, out of nowhere, he burst into this grin, like, "Check me out! I look smokin'!"
Which he totally does! With a haircut and 2.5 teeth, my baby boy looks like a whole new person. Such a big boy!
In other news, I have been feeling pretty down about the news I reported last week (right here on this blog!) because I really have no idea how this is going to work. So my friend Kelly sent me this video (letting me know what's in store for me and Lester, in terms of transporting three small children around):
Swagger Wagon
Hysterical -- this video definitely lifted my spirits! Never thought I was the mini-van type, but God clearly has other plans for me.
When Kelly sent me the link to the video, her advice to me was: "Embrace the insanity."
Good advice, Kel. I think I'm going to put that right up there on the list with, "Ignore the tray."
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