The zoo and a Hurricane in one weekend

I have been MIA for no good reason, other than that I have been hiding in my house, huddled in a corner, wondering what to make of the fact that we had an earthquake and a friggin' hurricane in the same week!

Surely this can mean nothing good!

Actually, neither the quake nor Hurricane Irene did much damage in our little corner of the world, so I'm truthfully thanking God for small blessings, like electricity and gutters that work pretty decently. The hurricane has wreaked havoc in other parts of the East Coast, though, so I have to try to remember to pray for those folks who lost homes, memories, electricity (still!) or even loved ones, in some cases. I also would like to pray that we have an event-free rest of the summer and fall, please. Unlike my mother, who lives for disasters, I am not cut out for them.

Anyway, here's what we've been up to since last we met.

I had Friday off because Michelle had doctor's appointments, so I decided to take the boys to the Maryland Zoo. They've been before, but this was my first time taking them by myself. I imagined a beautiful day, strolling through the zoo, leisurely talking about all the animals, and maybe even treating the boys to soft serve for the first time.

And it WAS a beautiful day -- sunny and clear, albeit a little warmer than I'd expected. All the animals were out (the boys really liked the giraffes) and Dean thought soft serve was the best. thing. ever. (Can't argue with that).

But I had forgotten about one thing: the Maryland Zoo is a sprawling campus of hills, hills and more hills. Pushing 50+ pounds of baby up and down dozens of hills in the heat of the summer, while also being 3 months pregnant?? NOT a good look.
I was huffing and puffing; my legs were aching; my back and neck were hurting; and I seriously considered paying some nice young man to push the stroller back to the zoo entrance for me. That's how desperate I was.

But I managed to make it all the way through! And I felt a real sense of accomplishment. I was exhausted and sweaty and sore afterward, but the boys enjoyed themselves. And since we spent the next two days holed up in the house because of the hurricane, I was really glad we ventured out together.

Just me and my boys.


Bonus: Pics of Cary petting a goat at the zoo. (Dean refused to get out of my arms!)

Here's Cary tentatively approaching the goat.


He's gonna touch him! He's gonna do it! He's smiling! This is so much fun!


And then, he was so confident, he moved on to pet yet another goat! This one's name was Frankie.


I was so proud of my little sweetie! Maybe Dean will try again next time.

The rest of the weekend, as I said, was spent on Hurricane watch. I was supposed to be a single mom this weekend, because Lester had a wedding to go to in Ohio, but he skipped the wedding when the news of the impending hurricane kept getting grimmer and grimmer. I told him he could go to the wedding, and we'd be OK, but he said he just couldn't fathom being so far away from home while his pregnant wife and two baby boys were braving it out in a hurricane without him. And that was also something I couldn't argue with. Plus, I was REALLY glad he was there.

Even though we mostly got a LOT of rain and some VERY scary wind gusts, it turned out to be pretty much only that in our neighborhood. Thank God. But it was really bad elsewhere even just a mile or so away -- downed trees and flying fences and cars being washed away. So, it could have been worse, and if it had've been, it would have been quite difficult without him there. And besides, I just really like having my lovebug around. (Especially when it's rainy and ominous and the boys go to bed and we can cuddle up and watch a movie -- which we did).

The boys were a little freaked out and also fascinated by the intensity of the rain, but they slept peacefully through the night, and by Sunday, things had cleared up considerably, and we even went out on the porch to get some sun and some air.

Overall, we had a good weekend. We survived Hurricane Irene; I survived the obstacle course that is the Maryland Zoo; and life is good in the Davis household.

Thank the Lord.

The Day the Earth Shook and the Boys Were Calm

Yesterday, a 5.9 magnitude earthquake hit Virginia, and rocked buildings and homes all up and down the East Coast.

There wasn't much damage (thank God!) but City Hall shut down to inspect the foundation, so Lester got sent home early. I left about a half-hour early, too, and when I got home, my house was empty. Using my training from years of reading Encyclopedia Brown books and watching Matlock and Murder She Wrote, I determined that Lester's car was parked outside, but the little red wagon was missing.

"A-HA!" I thought. "They've gone for a walk!"

So I got in the car and found them headed toward the park.

Encyclopedia, Ben and Jessica would be so proud of me!

Here we are, Mommy!!! :-)

We had a really good time at the park, although I think my boys are still just a tad young for all the equipment. They mostly liked sitting just outside the park on a blanket with us, under a huge shade tree, gathering sticks and rocks and trying to keep their balance walking on uneven surfaces. (Getting a little better!!)

They loved watching all the other children play, and the people walking their dogs in the neighborhood. Cary went crazy watching two boys riding their bikes up and down in front of the park. He kept saying "buk! buk!" and waving his hands in the air excitedly.

Then they discovered a little girl's bike near us on the grass. And it was all over.

This is where they stayed for like 15 minutes, happily exploring every single inch of this bike. Cary even tried to eat the pedals (ewwww!) -- that's how much they love bikes.

When the little girl (who was very sweet) came to retrieve her bike, it was time to go home.

Thankfully, the rest of the night was fairly uneventful. The boys ate next to nothing for dinner (oh well), sailed through their baths, got their meds before we said Good Night prayers, and conked out without a peep.

If that's the chain reaction we get from going to the playground before dinner, I say we go every night!

Of pools and teeth and babies who cling

So this weekend, my friend Stephanie rescued me from a weekend indoors with crazy babies and took me to her neighborhood pool, which you have to be a member of or a guest of a member to get in.

I almost didn't make it, because Cary had the WORST day of his life on Saturday, refusing to nap AT ALL -- not even 10 minutes of napping, people -- screaming at the top of his lungs instead, crying huge crocodile tears all day long, whining, fighting Dean, and begging to be held constantly.
(More on this later...)

But I was determined to get them out of the house for their very first pool visit, and no crazy baby was gonna stop me!

So here are the results of that lovely excursion:






And, just for good measure, here's a shot of me and my pregnant belly (at only 12 weeks, folks, this is how much I am showing. Lord help me.)

Yes, that is Dean trying to drink the water.

From those photos (except for the one of Cary crying in the pool chair), one would think a good time was had by all, eh?

NOT!

The babies loved the pool at first, until that fountain that Dean is trying to drink from sprayed them in their little faces (on separate occasions) and that totally freaked them out. I think they thought the pool was trying to attack them.

After that, they really only wanted to sit in one spot in the pool and stay very, very, very still, lest the pool try to attack them again.

Then, as I mentioned earlier, Cary hadn't slept at all, so he quickly became a major fussypot, and only wanted to sit on my lap, clinging to me for dear life. This of course made my ultra-jealous-abusive-boyfriend-son Dean want to sit on my lap, too. So there we were in the baby pool, sitting like statues -- me with one baby on each thigh, trying desperately to get them to see how FUN this was!!

Stephanie gets a gold star and the Purple Heart, because she tried mightily, too. But alas, we had to give up the pool date, and take the crazies home, give them a little snack (which they both refused) and then put them down for a nap. Cary cried for 30 minutes but then conked out for an hour. By then, it was time for dinner, which they gobbled (well, Cary did; Dean hasn't been eating much lately) and then bath and bedtime. I worried that the late nap would mess with their sleep, but they were in a coma for 13 hours!

So -- there's the upside to the pool!!! Lester and I got to sleep in on Sunday! Hooray!

Lester ended up taking Cary to the doctor today, because he really hasn't been himself at all for days, and it turns out that my poor sweetie has a little cold and a sore throat, but more importantly, the pediatrician says he has a TON of teeth coming in, including his molars.

So that explains his ultra-crazy behavior. I'm so glad to know it, because honestly, I was in tears this weekend for the first time in many, many, many months, because I just didn't know what was wrong with my normally happy, affable baby, and I didn't know how to help him, and I was flat out exhausted from all the crying and clinging.

Anyway, I'm not done with the pool; we have not been defeated! We'll try again soon when Cary's over his mega-teething campaign, and both boys have had good naps!

Thanks, Stephanie for helping take the boys on their first pool visit ever. You're the best!!

Adventures in Baltimore

I have been meaning to scan and post the ultrasound picture we got at our last visit to the perinatologist, and since I have been delinquent in doing that, I have been delinquent in posting, as well.

So, since I can't get my shtuff together, I guess I will just tell you about yesterday's "adventures in Baltimore."

When I got home after work, Michelle was out back with the boys playing with a ball and blowing bubbles (not at the same time; she's good, but not that good). We decided to take them for a little stroll through the alley behind our house and down the street, back to the front of our house. It's a short walk, as our house is two-thirds of the way to the end of the block, and we thought they'd enjoy really walking somewhere, as opposed to just toddling back and forth from room to room in the house.

Here are the things we encountered on our short walk:

• A pit bull, barking menacingly at us from behind a not-nearly-tall-enough fence.
• The inviting scent of people's garbage emanating from the trash cans strewn all around.
• A woman in leopard print just about from head to toe (literally) in her car, at whom Dean waved and waved and waved and then blew kisses. She is in LOVE with him now. Lord, help me teach this boy to have better taste in women.
  
• A fire truck inexplicably backing up down our one-way street. (The firefighters kindly blew the horns for the boys when we told them that it was their first time seeing a real fire truck! The boys nearly jumped out of their skin. That horn is LOUD.)
• A woman ( I suppose she's technically my neighbor) talking on her cell phone -- no -- SCREAMING on her cell phone at someone about how "J.P. is f----ng with her f----ng car and somebody needs to f----ng get his sh-- because this sh-- is getting out of hand!!"
• While this lovely woman was exposing my children to words they have never heard before, her little angry dog comes running across the street, yapping frantically, and heading straight for my babies.
• Thank God for Michelle, who has dogs, because she used the stern-dog-owner voice to get him to turn around -- just in time for him to dart spastically out in front of a truck that was barreling down our residential street at breakneck speed! Awesome!
• Again, thank God for Michelle, who yells at the truck to stop, and then yells at the potty-mouth woman, "Is this your DOG?!" To which the woman comes padding across the street in her slippers, still screaming into the phone, and proceeds to scream at the little hyped-up dog to "Get on over here!"

This was on what was supposed to be a short, uneventful, pleasant little walk. Instead, it was straight out of the Book of Bad Baltimore Behavior.

This, my friends, is just one of a million reasons why I want to move.

15-month-checkups

The boys had their 15-month appts. today.

Here's the stats:

Cary weighs 21 lbs., 8 oz. and is 31.5 inches tall.
Dean weighs 25 lbs., 6 oz. and is 32.75 inches tall.

My doctor thinks my children are FABULOUS! He was thrilled with their language development and was pleased with how well they were walking and mimicking and just all-in-all-being awesome. He even complimented me on how beautiful their teeth are! "That's gorgeous enamel," he says!
I'm sure this means absolutely nothing, but my doctor sure knows how to butter up a Momma!

P.S. From their stats, Dean is near the 80th percentile and Cary is in about the 25th! Could my children be any different? Seriously. And of course, Dean is the baby who always wants me to hold him. Sigh.

Couple worrisome things:

1. He did not encourage us to start trying to get them to consolidate their naps. He said they will do that on their own when they're ready. Or at least they will show us on their own when they're ready and then we can help them. So, for now, we're stuck with two naps. He said by 18 months we should be closer to one nap a day.

2. He wants us to start weaning from the bottle. He said they should be completely weaned by 18 months. Even the nighttime bottle!! ACK!

3. He did not give us the green light to turn the boys forward-facing in the car. So this means Cary will be a fussbucket for the foreseeable future. Boooo.

Other than those things -- oh, and stupid booster shots -- the visit was really good, and I was very proud of my sweet boys, who were entertaining all the nurses with their antics and cuteness, blowing kisses at babies in the waiting room and walking around in only their diapers and shoes like they owned the place.

It looks like 18 months is a major milestone, however, and I hope I'm ready. No nighttime bottle?

Pray for us.

Weekend at Storyville

So this weekend, Lester had work to do in D.C. and I was determined to get the munchkins out of the house, even though oceans of rain poured from the sky the entire weekend.
But the boys only enjoyed staring out the window at the deluge for so long, and then we were all going crazy, so I braved the storms and took them to Storyville to run around and be entranced by all the newness and other kids.

It worked like a charm! See for yourself!


Magnets to pull off, chew, and put back on endlessly!

Pretend grocery store to "shop" in, sample the foods, and call everything longish "a-nana," including this corn you see here:


Tables to "set," and telephones to "answer." Cary says, "uh-no?!" which means, "Hello?!"


New friends to make! This young man is 18-months-old and I was amazed at how much older he seemed than my two. I guess three months at this age is a lot.

"Babies" to kiss!!

Canoes to rock in! When we got home, I'd sing "Rock the boat!" a little tune I made up while they were rocking in the little canoe, and Cary and Dean would both start rocking their bodies back and forth. So cute!


Big, plush chairs to sit in (supposedly for reading all the wonderful books they have there) or push your little brother in. Whichever.

Household cleaning items to employ! (That's right, Cary. Bone up, buddy.)



And lots of lots of places to climb, which was by far, Dean's favorite thing.



Now, if only he'd learn how to get down. :-)

Wow. That wasn't as bad as we thought.

As the boys have hit the 15-month-mark, I have been reflecting on how I felt about this past year+. For some reason, 15 months seems like a good time to do that.
I was having trouble articulating how I really felt -- at least in a succinct way. If you've read recent entries, you'll note that my boys have been ....how shall I say? ... a handful, so my thoughts were likely being colored in a way I knew wasn't really true to reality.

But Lester sent me this New York Times article to read today, about the growing trend among some women to have selection reduction from twins to a singleton, mainly because they believe that having twins will be too difficult and that they won't be able to be A) financially afford them B) emotionally give enough to both C) physically be able to handle it.

Reading this article prompted me to post a comment on the NYT site, and it occurred to me that the comment really does sum up exactly how I feel.

So here's the comment (which I tried hard to make sure it didn't come off as judgmental, because I really do think there's way too much of that in this world when it comes to parenting):

As the mother of twin boys, I can attest to the sheer terror you feel when you discover you're carrying twins. It really is quite real, and applies to almost every area of your life: Financially, emotionally, physically; how will I (or we) be able to do this?? Will my marriage survive? Do I have what it takes to make it work?

That terror doesn't abate right away, either. I held it until very recently, when my boys hit the year mark, and my husband and I looked up and said, "Wow. That wasn't as bad as we thought!" Don't get me wrong; raising two infants at once is VERY difficult. There were a lot of tears, and very little sleep. We don't travel, go out with our friends or each other much, and our money is stretched to its extreme limits. There have been many, many times over the last 15 months that I thought, "It would be so nice to only have one baby right now."

But the truth is -- and this is something these poor women never have given themselves the chance to know -- those feelings DO go away thanks to time and the ever-giving font of love you feel for those two little screaming, demanding, adorable babies. Now that they're both here, I can't imagine life without either one of them. We're figuring it all out as we go along, true, but somehow, my husband and I have managed to make it work -- happily! We are not "haggard" and "miserable;" actually, these babies have brought just as much laughter and joy into our lives as they have sleepless nights and dirty dishes and piles and piles of laundry. I did not know this would happen when I was pregnant and terrified out of my mind. And it's sad that these women will never, ever know that.

Sometimes it takes considering another's point-of-view to realize just how you truly feel.

Again -- happy 15-month-old day, boys. I'm so glad you're BOTH here.

Happy 15-months, babies!

Today, Cary and Dean are 15-months-old.

Seriously -- how did this happen!?

And yesterday, they were total ANGELS. They were sweet and giggly, and didn't whine even a little! They followed instructions, they were playful and loving. They ate their dinner (most of it). They didn't poop in the tub. Cary slept through the night!

I have more to say about my wonderful little snugglies, but I have a meeting, so I have to run.

More later.

Meanwhile -- Happy 15-months, Cary and Dean! Mommy loves you!!

Twin Twilight Zone or Why I Must Be Catnip

I'll save you the sob story about how I'm too tired to post at night, and just jump right in.

First -- Lester and I are in some kind of Twin Twilight Zone where the boys are crazier, crankier and clingier than ever.

Remember last weekend, when we went to Chick-Fil-A and visited friends and family and the boys were just lovely? Ha! It was all a ruse to get us to trust them, so that they could divide and destroy us! My children are terrorists, folks. I'm sure of it.

We left after work Friday to go to my parents' house. Saturday morning, Cary woke up at 5:30 a.m., and Dean decided to join him. Cary refused to nap all day long Saturday and Dean took a three-hour first nap, but no second nap, so by about 4 p.m., the day was shot for both of them.
Dean was the biggest culprit. He was SOOOO whiny and fussy, I could do nothing with him. He only wanted me and he was very vocal (read: bratty) about every little thing, so much so that my sisters said they're buying him an "STFU" shirt for Christmas. Which is mean, of course, and they were joking, but still, I can understand the sentiment. (Sorry, Deanie. I love you, but you really were workin' the last one, buddy.)

And then, both boys had trouble sleeping Saturday night. Cary woke up at 11-ish and didn't go back to sleep until after 1. Dean tossed and turned loudly and balefully all night, and even shrieked in his sleep once or twice. Needless to say, Lester and I didn't sleep well on Saturday either.

So even though we intended to stay through Sunday, hanging out with family, we hurried out -- in our pajamas, no less -- at 8:30 a.m., while most of the house was still sleeping. We were determined to make it home in time to let the boys really nap in their cribs, but of course they both fell asleep in the car on the ride home and so neither one was interested in napping once we got to our house. Instead, they just transferred their crankiness and clinginess to Baltimore!

I was feeling really wiped out (I think it has a lot to do with my blood sugars) so I ended up leaving Lester downstairs with the boys most of the day Sunday, while I rested upstairs. I actually didn't get much sleep, sadly, but my body was telling me that I really, really needed to be lying flat, so I did what I was told. The sad thing is, when I tried to lie flat on the sofa or on the floor, just so I could be in the same room with the boys and Lester, they went bonkers! (Well, Lester didn't!) Lester actually banished me upstairs at one point, and -- lo and behold -- they were just fine! I barely heard a peep out of them as they played with Lester, and independently.

I wonder what that's all about it. Why do they act so crazy around me?? Ugh! It's like I'm catnip, but with a real ugly side.

And guess who woke up at midnight and cried and screamed for an hour? Cary Davis. I cannot believe this baby is waking up again at night. WTF.

Of course, all the developmental reading I'm doing says that this is perfectly normal -- one blurb even said babies at this age are like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, which is so true over here, except that I usually have one of each at any given moment. And they all say that babies are testing boundaries, having trouble sleeping, becoming pickier eaters and being more vocal (read: bratty) at this stage. But, for some reason, reading all that confirmation doesn't make me feel better, because not ONE book/website/blog post tells me WHEN THIS ENDS!!

Guess I'll have to wait and see.

In other news, Cary vomited in his crib last night and had a 101.6 fever.
Poor sweetie!
I went in to cover them with their blankets around 9 and could smell the vomit. I thought it was just on his blanket, but then I noticed that it was all in his hair and everything. Poooor baby!
Lester and I had to wake him up to wash his hair and change his bedclothes and give him some Tylenol and some water. He LOVED every minute of it. I have to admit, he was pretty darn cute all sleepy, with wet hair, looking around our bedroom like, "I know I'm not supposed to be here this time of night. Whoo-hoo! Party!!"
I let him sleep in our bed, because I was freaked out that he would vomit again and I wouldn't know it. Needless to say, Lester and I got very little sleep. Cary tossed and turned and cried for his Lovey allllll night. I felt sorry for him, because he clearly didn't feel well, so I'm not as bitter about losing the sleep. But I sure hope and pray (praying HARD) that I get some sleep tonight.
(And that Dean doesn't get whatever bug Cary has.)

It's so strange having had babies STTN for so many months and then -- just like that -- back to night wakings.

Like I said, we must definitely be in the Twilight Zone.

This is gonna hurt me more than it hurts them...

This week, I have been too tired at the end of every night to even open up the laptop.
But tonight, I decided that I had to push myself to blog.
The problem is, I've also been too tired to really think hard about and reflect on anything going on in this house.
I am seriously a zombie these days.

I can say this: This week, both boys took tumbles off our bed. Cary fell backwards while sliding off the bed (he was so close to being down, too!) and Dean just dove headfirst, while attempting to reach the alarm clock on my nightstand. He has a nasty bruise on his forehead, which makes me cringe whenever I see it, but he's no worse for wear otherwise. That same day, though, he also slipped in the bathtub and split his little lip. Oh, my heart! The blood! The tears! The puppy dog eyes! Ugh.

I really wish I could stuff them both back in my uterus where at least they were safe, dangit!

I talked to a very dear friend today whose son is 20-months-old and she was lamenting how busy he is, how he runs everywhere and jumps from everything and is constantly injuring himself. "He has a black eye right now," she said, "from running into a door."

A black eye? Lordie.

My children aren't even running and jumping yet, and already they're racking up casualties.
Is this what I have to look forward to in the coming months? 'Cause seriously, I don't think my heart can take it.

A good weekend, both out and in

I have been lamenting that my boys have not seen the outside of our house for weeks, as it has been so darn hot, Michelle hasn't wanted to take them anywhere during the week, and we haven't wanted to take them anywhere on the weekends.So I was determined that we would get out this weekend.

Saturday, we went to visit our friends Mark and Kelly, whose daughter Naomi was born exactly one month after the boys. The babies enjoyed the visit because there were new toys to play with, new things to get into that they weren't supposed to, and cheddar bunnies to snack on. Not to mention Naomi, who is sure to be the girlfriend to one of them in about 18 years (or 30 or 50, whenever we let them date).

Then, we went over to Lester's aunt's house for a cookout for his little cousin who is going off to college next week. The boys got to play with their miniature pinscher, whom they adored, and also toddled around outside, getting way too many mosquito bites, and trying to steal sips of random folks' soda.

Oh, we also stopped off at Chick-Fil-A, to get us and the boys some lunch, and it went so well, I was really shocked. The babies sat in their highchairs and ate little chunks of chicken and waffle fries and fruit and didn't scream or yell or throw food or anything. They sipped milk from a straw and didn't spit it out. They waved at people, and pointed at "beh-behs" (babies) and smiled. Dare I say it? We actually ...enjoyed ourselves! Chick-Fil-A is a new favorite now for us, as they are very kid-friendly, and clean.

We put the boys to bed about 45-minutes late, because of our long day, and they CONKED out, without a peep. It was awesome.

Sunday, we mostly hung around the house, playing and reading, while Lester cut the grass and went to the grocery store and then grilled a bunch of stuff for the week. The boys are obsessed with the lawnmower, so we sat outside with them in the little red wagon, watching Lester do the yard work, and they loved it. They're sorta freaked out by the lawnmower as much as they love it, so after awhile, they'd had their fill, and it was time for a nap. Again, they conked right out.
Yay for happily napping babies! Alas, the second nap was a disaster, which has me thinking again about how to eventually merge two naps into one.

But that's for another time. Today, I'm not thinking too far into the future. A fellow blogger and friend whose twin boys just went to kindergarten (yikes!) reminded me to live in the moment, because with babies the days are long, but the years are short.

I'm going to try to remember that more often.