Can twin closeness be a bad thing?

This week, I was getting Lester's laptop out of his work bag and discovered two little progress reports from C and D's last day of school.

Putting aside for a moment the fact that my dear husband forgot to even mention these to me -- the last day of school was MAY 28th -- I was a little sad when I read them over.

There were no real surprises; the boys are doing well in almost all areas. But under "interacts with one or more children," Dean and Cary both got an "N" for "not consistently demonstrating;" they both got "Ps" --  progressing -- in "participates in the group life of the class" -- and Cary got a string of flashing neon Ps in "interacts with familiar adults," "shows empathy and caring for others," "follows simple classroom rules and routines," and pretty much the whole section called "Personal and Social Development."

Beth posted a lovely piece today on Facebook called  "My Kids Aren't Perfect and That's OK." The gist was that it was OK if kids weren't acing every single subject in school, or if they weren't remembering to do all their chores without being nagged. Kids "stumble and fall and make lots of mistakes and messes," the post says, but what matters is that they are "good, kind and caring [people.]"

eing a good, kind, caring person.

being a good, kind, caring person.

Well, ahem, judging from the progress reports, being good, kind and caring -- the things that are the hallmark of a socially normal person -- are pretty much the only things my children are lacking!

Cary is a special case, because he is a little aloof, in general, and not very consistent about behaving in a socially appropriate way, especially around new people. It's his personality. Dean is more extroverted and a people-person, so he's a little bit better in this area.

But mostly, I blame this OBVIOUS social stuntedness on my boys being twins.

Check out what the teachers had to say about Cary and Dean (after they went through the obligatory "Child is bright, enjoys the sand table..." BS).

About Cary:
Cary sometimes needs assistance expressing himself and depends on his brother Dean to speak for him.

About Dean:
Dean needs daily reminders to remember to let Cary speak for himself. He only does this because he loves Cary so much and is very concerned about his well-being.

Hmmm. #co-dependent much?

I have noticed that my boys never seem to really play with other children when we're out -- even with familiar children. They don't have friends, really, other than the ones we adults call their friends, either because we like to hang with their parents (Antony, Abby, Maya, Hugo, Naomi, Spirit), or because we see them so much everywhere (Marcus).

I always thought it was a good thing that the boys had each other. It certainly made the entry into school a lot easier than it has been for poor Clair (God help that child to stop being so fearful and tearful every day!) But now I look around and notice that other kids their age are starting to form adorable little friendships, or at the very least, they have a semblance of what it means to be the kind of person people would want to be friends with.

But when I mention to Cary, for instance, that he shouldn't SCREAM in people's faces when he's just met them because people won't want to be friends with people who aren't kind, he simply shrugs. After all, why does he need other people to be his friends? He has Dean.

And when I ask them about other kids, they honestly don't know what to say about them, because they don't pay other kids any attention! They live in their own little twin-world and they're just fine there.

I think Dean will eventually find himself some buddies. For Cary -- well, it might take a while for that to happen.

But I do wonder how long it will take them to want outside friendships -- and if a delay in developing that desire will mean an accompanying delay in knowing how to make friends.

In other words, will my twin boys be socially awkward? I know I shouldn't worry about this kind of thing, but as a social person who has always found making friends to be easy, and intimate friendships with people truly rewarding, I DO WORRY.

I know how hard childhood and adolescence can be for those who find friend-making difficult. I don't want that for my boys. 

Parents of twins, what have you found in this area? Is this more because they're 4, or is this a real twins-thing throughout childhood? Am I just being neurotic (as usual).

Former womb-mates. Forever friends.

P.S. I think it is kinda funny that the boys' only other "Ns" were in "participates in group music experiences" and "participates in creative movement, dance and drama." Guess I won't be seeing them on Broadway. Hahahaa!

I've got 99 problems and my kids are 3 of them

Sometimes all my kids are going along swimmingly, being insane but normally so, nothing special to report. Same ole, same ole. Another day another diaper.

But these days, I have issues with each one of them. Issues I honestly am not sure how to handle.

Let's start with the oldest, shall we?

Cary: He wore his glasses for two days without problems. Then, all of a sudden, when people are around, he refuses to wear them. At my mother's house, he donned a Batman mask to avoid having to put on his specs. At church, he wouldn't go into his classroom with them on - just flat out refused. And today, when I made him put them on, he took them off and flung them to the floor.
I know part of the problem is that we made a huge tactical error by making a big deal out of the glasses and how cool they were in the beginning. My Dad came by and oohed and aahed; we even asked the hostess at Gertrude's to tell him how handsome he was in his new glasses, which she was happy to do (because he DOES look cute in them!) Turns out, Cary doesn't love all the attention his glasses bring. He told me, "I don't want people to say things about them!" But why he doesn't want to wear them even at home all of sudden, I have no idea. And I don't know what to do to convince him that he has to wear them. I don't want to turn the idea of his glasses into a sore spot, but I keep finding myself threatening him with timeout if he doesn't put them on. The doctor was adamant that he has to wear them full-time or else his vision could get worse. So what else can I do?
Color me stumped.

See? Here he is lying in the bed "reading" a book WITHOUT his glasses.

Dean: Did I post here before about the time Dean stashed a lollipop under his pillow, to eat, I suppose, after the rest of us had gone to bed? I can't remember if I told you all that story. But nevermind that because guess who did it again? This time with a STOLEN piece of candy from Target? Yes, you guessed it. My middle child. While I was in North Carolina for my friend Laurie's 50th birthday, Lester had to take all three kids to Target. At the checkout counter, apparently, Dean spied a piece of candy he wanted, tucked it into his pocket, carried it all the way home, put the candy under his pillow, got undressed, put his pajamas on, and said not. a. word. the whole time about his contraband. Lester only discovered it because the child who has the sophistication to swipe candy, stash it away, DELAY GRATIFICATION (helloooo!) and keep a poker face the entire time is still only 4 and too young to realize that he had to pick up his pillow (hey dumb-dumb, move your hiding place next time, eh?) to get in the bed after our nighttime prayers. Of course, after Lester found the candy, there was a long conversation about stealing and what that means and about honesty, etc. Lester told me later he was "crestfallen" about it. And I am too. I know that Dean doesn't really understand what "stealing" is, but the fact that he is capable of that kind of planned-out deceit is ...unnerving. Not totally surprising -- he's always been the child who looks for things to get into to. But still, it's alarming. Even if he is only 4.
Color me flummoxed.

No cavities at this last check-up, but I don't know what will happen if he keeps stashing candy under his pillow at night. Also, how can I get him to use his powers for good?!?!

Clair:  The first day of summer camp went OK. The next day, not as well, but still OK. By Day 3, she was in tears from the time we started getting her dressed until after Lester dropped the kids off at school. She cries great big, sad tears, and pleads with us with her eyes not to send her to school. "I don't want to go to camp!" she wails. "I want to stay here with Mommy and MiMi!" It breaks my heart. And now, I guess because she's so freaked out by being left at summer camp, she also has reverted back to acting the fool at children's church. Yesterday, for the first time in forever, they flashed us on the screen during service to come get her from her class. Some of it has to do with the fact that yesterday was the day they moved all the pre-school kids up a level, so the boys went from the 3s to the 4s and Clair went from the 18-24mos. class to the 2-year-olds class. So the change wigged her out, I know. But she was crying at home before we even left for church, once she ascertained where we were going. She refused to put her shoes on, thinking that would prevent us from taking her. And at one point, she even started climbing, barefoot and resolute, up the stairs, saying, "I want to stay here - by myself." It rips my heart out the way she cries, and it also affects my mood for a good part of the day. She's just so highly-anxious! I also really worry now about what will happen when we (hopefully/prayerfully) find a new person to take care of the kids afterschool. She LOVES Michelle and will likely flip the funk out when her time with us is up.
Church, camp, school in the fall, a new caregiver -- I just think this whole transition is going to suck suck suck. 
Color me defeated.

How can you be so cute and independent and fearless sometimes and so fearful and anxious and maddening other times? Quit breaking Momma's heart, girl!

Turns out there were tears after all...

So after Clair's triumphant entry into the world of being dropped off and left behind by working parents, the dust has settled and the verdict is: Fair to middlin.'

Michelle picked the kids up at noon and the teacher (also named Miss Michelle, but not the same Miss Michelle that the boys had last year. Keep up, people.) said that Clair cried a few times, but only in short stints. Our Michelle told us that when Clair saw her waiting outside the school, she took off running, tears and all, crying, "Meeeeee-Meeeeee!"

When I asked the kids later how they all did, Dean said, "Mommy, Clairzee did good! She only cried THREE times!"

:-(

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I actually cried about that many times myself yesterday -- and I honestly would not have predicted that leaving her at school would make me weepy.  So I suppose she and I were both a little emotional yesterday. My baby girl and me: simpatico.

Funny story: When I asked Clair what she did at summer camp, she smiled and said in a sing-song voice, "I played with my toys. I ate snack. I played with my friennnnnds."

(Dean, from the peanut gallery, "She mostly just played with me, Mommy." Thank you, Town Crier.)

But when Lester came home a little bit later and asked her the same question, she said, "I crying! I crying two times, Daddy. I want Mommy and Daddy." She even poked out her bottom lip!

Of course, Lester scooped her up and hugged her tight and then carried her around like a little baby after that, so I guess mission accomplished, Clair. #wellplayed

I also think it's interesting that I got more commentary out of Clair on her very first day than I have gotten out of Cary and Dean in two years of going to school. "What'd you do today C or D?" "Nothing." "Who'd you play with?" "No one." "What'd you learn about today?" "Nothing."

So thank the Lord for Clair. Maybe I'll actually know what the hell goes on in school all day long now that she's there.

This morning, she complained a little bit about not wanting to go to summer camp, but when I left her, this is what she was doing:

So I kissed her, assured her Michelle would pick them all up later and headed for the door.

She didn't cry when I left and I haven't so much as welled up yet.

So I declare today a good day -- for her and for me.

Clair starts summer camp!

This is a big week for Clairzee!

First the dentist (which she totally aced), now this. Today Clair started three days a week of summer camp, which is basically just school in the summer.

Again, Lester and I worried ourselves into a tizzy about how she'd do.I couldn't sleep for two nights, thinking about her being in distress and what we would do if she had a conniption at drop-off. After all, aside from church, this is the first time we've ever dropped her off somewhere and left. Ever.

Guess what? Yet again, our baby girl surprised the heck out of us.

She galloped into the school, went into the classroom, said hello to the teachers, and immediately started playing with toys.  No crying, no worrying, nuthin'.

Another good thing: One of the teachers in the summer camp class is going to be Clair's actual teacher in the fall! So yay!

Lester wanted to make sure we didn't trigger Clair's anxiety by lingering too long, so I barely even got to take pictures or say a real good bye. I feel a little ...I don't know...something about all this. Especially because it was so hurried. Like, right now, I sorta feel on the verge of tears, and I'm not exactly sure why. I'm definitely distracted, so I'm going to need to do some mindfulness/centering exercises or something to get any real work done today. (And by mindfulness/centering exercises, of course I mean "chocolate.")

But mostly, I'm just grateful that Clair has Cary and Dean there with her to ease her transition into school. In the fall, she'll be by herself there -- because C and D will be going to their new school across town.

But for a few weeks this summer, they're my three little amigos (hermanos?) and everybody seems quite happy.

 

I guess. (Sniff.)

Clair's 1st visit to the dentist!

Clair went to the dentist today for the first time.

Knowing our highly anxious, people-averse daughter, Lester and I steeled ourselves for the worst. We both took the morning off work to be there, just in case the craziness was at DEFCON 1.

Color us shocked and giddy when Clair got up in the chair (after watching Cary do it first), opened her mouth, said "Ahhh," answered the hygienist's and the doctor's questions, got a very short cleaning, and climbed back down when it was over -- LIKE A BOSS.

A little nervous, perhaps, but still compliant! And not crying!

Look how awesome she is doing!

It looks like they listed her full name, Clair Elise, but there was actually another brand new patient today named Elise. So cute.

She even played in and around the waiting room toys with other children. Willingly!

She is getting so much better guys! I really was so, so proud of her.

Now, let's see how it goes tomorrow when we drop her off at summer camp and LEAVE HER THERE. Lord.help.us.

Post Father's Day weekend musings

The kids have started this thing where if they see a camera (or an iPhone, as it were) they have to make silly faces. See?

We're visiting with Lester's Uncle Derrick at the Marriott Wardman Park Hotel, near the D.C. zoo. This is right after we got in trouble (me included) for playing on the escalators.

Sometimes with Clair, though, we can still get a pretty decent pic - if she's in a good mood.

Movie star!

These eyes slay me, seriously.

This picture cracks me up -- of them at Naomi's 4th birthday party (Happy Birthday, Naomi!) --  because it says so much about who they are right now. Dean is like, "Juice boxes and junk food and things I don't get to eat a lot. YAAASSSS!" Cary is all, "What's Dean doing? Dean! Dean! Dean!" and Clair is totally ignoring the instructions that everyone is supposed to wait to eat their pizza until we all cheer for Naomi. Yup. That's them.

I successfully avoided eating the pizza AND the cupcakes at this party. Then later on that night, I succumbed to one of each. Sigh.

We spent Father's Day at my parents' house, where we mostly just hung out and spent time with Dad (and we saw Pop-Pop for a second, too, so yay!) and ate a lot of food and sweets. My sister Tahira and her husband bought a table full of crabs, so we picked a few of those -- and it felt like summertime, finally.

While I was there, I thought a lot about how lucky I am to have an amazing father and a husband who is an amazing father to my children. I know that everyone isn't so fortunate. I thank God for all my blessings -- and I pray my children and children's children will always know the unmatched love of a father.

Dad and me, circa 1980.

You gave me wings and made me fly.
You touched my hand I could touch the sky.
I lost my faith, you gave it back to me.
You said no star was out of reach.
You stood by me and I stood tall;
I had your love I had it all.
I'm grateful for each day you gave me.
Maybe I don't know that much,
But I know this much is true:
I was blessed because I was loved by you...

Thank you, Dad.

As we approach Father's Day, I could go on and on about what a wonderful father I have -- and how good he has been to me, consistently, throughout my life.

It's clear, for example, in the man I chose to be the father of my own children just what kind of example my Dad set. And you read this week about how Dad drove an hour just to bring me a plant on my birthday.

I'm a lucky, lucky Daddy's girl and I hope Dad knows how thankful I am for all that he is and does in my life.

But I don't think I thank my Dad enough for the wonderful things he does for everyone else in his life.

How he spends so much quality time with my 97-year-old Granddad at least four times a week, does all his grocery shopping, takes him to the doctor and to the bank, helps him write out his bills and fills his prescriptions, leaves him food to eat, bathes and shaves him. And most importantly, he just provides company -- watching sports or the news for hours on end (sometimes falling asleep from exhaustion) -- so that Granddad won't feel so alone.

How he remains at my brother Rashad's beck and call -- responding to all his needs -- even late-night calls for directions because Rashad's memory is so bad after his accident. How he (and my Mom) still support my siblings, well into adulthood, even though they should probably have stopped a long time ago.

Instead, Dad gives more and more, mostly because he wants to be sure his grandchildren are OK.  He often stops whatever he's doing to actively love his grandchildren: Making Cary feel good about his glasses, going to Kalonji's parent-teacher conferences, or Grandparents' Day at Russy's school. (And we can't even talk about how much he dotes on Matty.)

Last night, he went to my sister's house to give her youngest son, Kwahli, a haircut, because today was his kindergarten graduation. He brought over his clippers, sat him on the counter, and buzzed away. 

And look how handsome Kwahli was!

Dad (and Mom) also bought his suit and tie and shoes.

His sisters, Aminah and Alahna love him!

And of course, Dad was there today, cheering Kwahli on.

Because that's what my Dad does. He shows up when you need him. He's there for the things that matter.

I'm so glad my kids have this kind of example in their father -- and their grandfather.

Happy Father's Day to both of you amazing men.

We all love you!

41 revolutions around the sun! (Or something like that.)

Wait. Is that right? You know I'm no good at math. If I turned 41 yesterday (which I did), does that mean I've now gone around the sun 40 times? 41 times? Or 42 times?

Is this a ridiculous question? Whatever.

Happy birthday to me!

Yesterday, I planned to go into work and sit in my air-conditioned office, occasionally stopping over to Facebook to "like" all my Happy Birthday posts, and then go out to lunch with my co-workers, who had planned a trip out for Indian buffet.

But Michelle called in sick (she'd been feeling poorly all week) and so I ended up staying home with Cary, Dean and Clair, whose idea of celebrating my birthday involves me being at their beck and call and refereeing fights and celebrating THEM. The prospect of being stuck in the house all day with those three nuts is bad enough on a regular day (the fighting, the noise, the messes, the whining! Lawd!) but on my birthday, it just seemed completely untenable.

So I packed us some brown bag lunches and hustled on out to the B&O Railroad Museum, where we have a membership, for a free day out and about in the sun!

Faithful readers of this blog will know that those "meh" looks on Cary and Dean's faces mean, "Holy cannoli! It's the CONDUCTOR! I'm bursting with excitement!"

Later on, we went to pick up Cary's glasses, which were finally ready. (More about that in a later post.)

These are his new glasses! Isn't he the CUTEST?

I ordered this book to help prepare him for glasses -- and because that little boy looks like Cary to me. It cracks me up!

And my Dad drove all the way from his side of the world -- over an hour -- just to bring me a plant, and pose for pictures with Cary, to show him that all the "good-looking fellas have glasses."

My Dad always makes me feel so special!

Lester took me and the whole family out to dinner at Gertrude's, which is at the Baltimore Museum of Art. It was the kids' first visit to a "white tablecloth" restaurant. At first, it looked like we were headed for disaster. Clair was whining like crazy and wouldn't sit in her chair. The boys were whining like crazy and playing with the knives on the table. People were giving us the judgy eyes. But we ordered their food first, so it came pretty quickly, and after they got a little food in their bellies, things calmed down and we ended up having a really nice meal. Dean kept trying to wave down the waiter (we stopped him this time) and when they brought my dessert, he blew out my candle (of course); Clair ate a good fourth of my $23 crab cake and Cary sat contentedly eating his food and fancy donuts and looking around at everyone and everything like, "Well would you look at that?"

I didn't take any pictures, because the kid-wrangling was a full-time job. But we didn't get kicked out - so #winning.

Earlier that morning, the kids came in to my bedroom singing "Happy Birthday" and presenting me with a homemade card and small gifts (a heavy-duty lobster cracker, because the one I had was garbage, and a new fluffy pillow because my old cheap one was flat and giving me neck-aches).

And last week, just because I am the luckiest girl in the world, Lester set up a whole surprise date night where he:

Sent a car to pick me up from work (thanks, Uber!)

Selfie on the way to the restaurant! I felt like a movie star!

Met me at the Thames Street Oyster House, a FABULOUS seafood restaurant in Fells Point that I highly recommend if you are ever in Baltimore. He was at the bar when I got there, looking dapper, with a glass of sangria ordered for me.

It's not every day a tall, handsome man (my natty beau - get it?) meets you at a restaurant bar with a drink at the ready.

This was the view from our table!

I devoured this lobster roll, which was so damn good, I can't EVEN. But, guess what? I left the fries on the plate! Yay for restraint!

See? No lobster roll. Plate full of fries.

Because I was saving room for this bread pudding with warm caramel sauce. Oh. Em. Gee. Soooo good!

Took me out to a play at the Hippodrome Theater. The show was hilarious.

I ran into my gynecologist at the theater, who was out with his wife. #Awkward.

And then, whisked me off to a room at the Four Seasons (!!), which we got through a hook-up from our friend Antwyne (thanks Antwyne and Mari!), where we stayed the night (thanks to my sister Tahira who watched all the children for us!)

Tahira made a pizza with the kids! They loved it.

Look at  Matty giving Clair a kiss because he LOVES her so much. And check out Clair looking so over it, because he ANNOYS her so much. Poor sweet Matty. One day, she's gonna be your best friend, Matt Pat. Just wait.

And to top it all off -- my awesome co-workers re-scheduled my Indian buffet lunch for today! And invited Stacey to come back and eat with us!

Soooo, basically BEST BIRTHDAY EVER. (As usual!)

I'm so blessed and lucky and happy as a clam. I hope the next 41 (40? 42?) rotations around the sun are just as perfect!

My abs hurt.

That is all.

:-)

I'm sore - YAY!

Last night, after much talk, talk, talking about it, I actually went to a yoga class!

My friend and neighbor Kelly (Abby and Maya's mom) and I pulled ourselves away from the loveliness of dinnertime with twin 4-year-olds (and in my case, a 2-year-old) and went to do something restorative and relaxing for ourselves.

Only thing: This class was not relaxing at all! It was HARD. Despite being a wiry, ponytailed hippie who is headed to Colorado this summer to legally smoke weed with his parents, this instructor was not the singsongy "clear your mind, think about your breaths, focus on you, no judgment" kind of teacher, with chimes and flutey music playing in the background. This dude was hard core, all about strength and stretch and bone alignment. There were no candles. No music! Just the sound of human beings grunting and breathing and wanting to cry. Oh wait. Maybe that was just me.

I don't know if it's because he's tougher than the yoga instructors I'm used to, or if it's that I'm so, so, so, so, so, so (add 27 additional so's here) out-of-shape, but at certain points, my muscles were quivering from bending and holding poses. Instead of regulating my breathing and heart-rate, this class made my heart was pumping like I was on the treadmill!

Seriously, once, in between trying to freakin' focus on my breathing during a pose I thought, "We signed up for 'Beginner's Yoga,' not CrossFit!

In my pre-kid years, after hot yoga (which is my favorite), I would leave feeling limber and cleansed, like all the sweating and stretching had pushed toxins (both physical and emotional) out of my body. I felt like I could breathe and think more clearly.

After yoga last night, all I felt was tired!

But this morning, I woke up feeling soreness in my arms and neck and shoulders. It was a pleasant feeling, something I hadn't felt in years! That warm achiness that comes from knowing you've just pushed your body to do things it's capable of doing, but just never given the chance.  I like feeling aware of my body -- and knowing that if I keep this up, my body will get stronger, those stretches will be less taxing, the poses less impossible to hold without quaking.

I might still try to find a class that gives me the relaxation and inner-cleansing I loved so much about hot yoga. But for now, I'm not going to run away from the hard work this class looks like it's going to be.

Namaste.

#FortyFine

One step closer: Selling Lester's house

Miracles of miracles -- we are under contract on Lester's house in D.C.!

After our first date, Lester and I came here to this house and stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, talking about any and everything. Our first date was June 2, 2006 -- exactly 8 years ago today.

I don't know if we under-priced it or if we priced it just right, but we put the house on the market on Tuesday, and we had three offers by Thursday and a signed contract on Saturday. Whoa!

We're not going to make a ton of money, especially after all the seller's fees and paying off the mortgage and whatever taxes we have to cough up, etc. But selling this house is just one step on the road to getting out of our crappy neighborhood and into a better one, out of our teeny house and into a bigger one.

We have many, many, many steps left to go -- not the least of which is that both of us have to make more money. Considerably more. And we all know that better-paying jobs aren't falling off of trees these days. So, we're not really close to moving. But we're closer.

Selling the house also comes at another huge cost for Lester, because this house is the house he lived in since birth. He and his mother -- his first and closest friend -- shared so much in this house; it's the backdrop for most of his childhood memories, both good and bad. I could say a lot more about what this house means to him, but it's his story to tell, not mine, and so much of the story is hugely personal and tangled with mixed emotions.

So it means so much to me that, in order to help move our family forward, my husband is willing to part with this house that has helped to shape so much of who he is. 

And it also makes me feel even closer to his mother -- a woman I never got the chance to meet -- for her role in our family's future. She raised the man of my dreams here in this house. She left this house to him when she died. Because of this house, my children -- her grandchildren -- will have a more comfortable home to live in someday.

And her legacy just goes on...