Pinged by the pang!

It has happened.

Much sooner than I ever thought it would, it has happened.

I felt the baby pang.

Let me assure you: I do NOT under any circumstances want another baby. No way, Jose'. To put the period at the end of that statement, you should know that I had a Mirena implanted on August 28th. The 5-year-long kind. And I intend to re-up that sucker five years from now. No more babies for me. Ever.

Nevertheless, the pang pinged me. And it first happened the very day I went to get the IUD.

Before my doctor implanted it, the office had me take a pregnancy test. I knew I wasn't pregnant; I had just had a period the week before. But when the nurse said I was ready for implantation of the IUD -- meaning I wasn't pregnant -- I found myself irrationally sad. Can you believe it?

I know our family is complete. I was pretty sure our family was complete when we were surprised by Curveball Clair. Now, 18-months-later, there is no "pretty" about it. I am Steven-Tyler-first-thing-in-the-morning-UGLY sure. There is no way we can afford another child; there is no way we want another child.

So what was that sadness all about? Out of the blue, I was really, bizarrely, disappointed that the pregnancy test came up negative -- and then I got even more sad thinking that I will never ever ever have another positive pregnancy test again.

I left the doctor's office bewildered, but I calmed myself by thinking, "Well, that was about the pregnancy test. The thrill of it. The mystery and excitement of a new unknown person growing in your womb. Not about an actual baby." So I felt like I was on OK ground. 

But then Saturday at Target, with my whole family in tow, I got stopped in my tracks - stopped dead - by a father bouncing his newborn baby girl on his shoulder while still-swollen-from-pregnancy Mom combed the racks for sleepers. The baby couldn't have been more than three weeks old. She was the tiniest little thing, with bright eyes and jet-black hair. She looked confused and content and cute as a button. I STRAIGHT UP wanted to steal her, put her in my purse and snuggle her little face and smell her hair until the cops came to take me away. 

The force of that feeling was so strong, I was really caught off-guard. Like, OK, don't judge me, but I had to actually say to myself (in my head), "DO NOT go over there and snatch that baby out of that man's hands. People don't really take too kindly to that."

What the hell?

Like I said, I don't want more children. I'm thrilled with and exhausted by the three lovebugs I have.

I think I just feel like the joys of the little tiny baby stage are so clouded by the suckage of the little tiny baby stage that I never properly enjoyed them. Or I didn't enjoy them as much as I could have.  And by the time the haze lifts, newborn has turned into infant has turned into toddler. It really is over in a flash. 

So when I see super-cute little newborns with their miniature little fists and little "O" mouths, the part of me that blanked on how great those things were during my own children's newbornness stands at attention and says "Hey, you! Baby! GET IN MY BELLY!"

The good thing is, the pang goes away on its own, without encouragement from me or anyone else. I muse for a little while about new-baby-smell and the satisfying weight of an 8-lb. sweet thing lying on your chest, sleeping peacefully. And then, Clair screams, "MOMMM-MEEEE! CUP!" while swatting at me, and I snap the eff out of it.

Thank God.

Tuesday fun facts

-- Today Curve Ball is 28 weeks!
(How do you like that I started this post with her instead of her brothers?!)

Technically, she is only 26 weeks, but I am 28 weeks along carrying her. This is the official start of the third trimester, according to the pregnancy books. That means this is the final stretch. She should be here in 12 weeks or fewer. (Hopefully not too much fewer). I'm still freaked out, but also getting excited. A new little baby, with new baby toes and new baby smell! Awwww.

The books also say that Curve Ball could weigh as much as 2.5 lbs by now. I can believe it, as this little thing packs a powerful punch when she is moving around -- which is pretty much all the time. She is a party animal! I sometimes call her "Wild Thing," and like Max in the famous book, then I command her to "Be still!" But I must not have Max's special magic tricks, as she never complies.

Full disclosure, I have not gotten very far on the list of things to do to prepare for her room. I have ordered a few things for the boys' new room (bookcase, storage unit, toybox) which will help us move their stuff out of her room, so I can start decorating for her. I also have a bassinet for Curve Ball - which I got from a yard sale - but no crib yet.

Lester and I both have a little time off coming up this month, so hopefully, we will knock this out then. I really don't want it to be February -- and I"m 9 months pregnant, still trying to get two kids' rooms together.

P.S. Curve Ball still has no name, but we have a strong contender! I'll keep you posted.

-- Dean has started saying Cary's name a bit. Finally! It sounds like "Dairy" or "Deary," actually.
And sometimes Cary will say it too. But I'd say 75 percent of the time, Dean calls Cary "Dean," and 85 percent of the time, Cary calls himself "Dean."
I was very happy yesterday, though, when Cary pointed to Dean in his highchair and said, "Deannn," (He really emphasizes the "n" now) and then pointed to himself and said, quietly, "Deary?"
I think we might be turning a corner!

Dean also is becoming more and more interested in helping to put on and take off his clothes. The same way I often find Cary sitting quietly somewhere with a book is the same way I'll now find Dean sitting quietly somewhere with a pair of pants or pajamas he's pulled out of the hamper, trying to put them on his feet or arms (with no luck). It's very cute. He takes clothes off of "Piggy" - a little stuffed pig with a vest - and then tries so hard to put them back on. (So cute!) He helps pull his pants off when it's bathtime. He thinks he can put his own socks and shoes on and cries when he can't do it. (Awwww.)
Cary has no interest in helping with anything, mind you. He's perfectly happy for Mom and Dad to do everything for him.

Dean is also taking his climbing game to new levels, literally. One day last weekend, I found him on top of the dining room table! Yikes. He climbs all over everything, and he and Cary push furniture around (on our wood floors!) so much, climbing all over everything, that Lester and I had to buy a new baby gate (18 months in to having babies) to stop the C&D Wrecking Crew from destroying the entire house every single day.

-- Cary is stringing more and more words together. Last night, he spied a stray grape that rolled into a corner, and said "Dir-tee brepp." (Dirty grape!) He also says , "No touch tuh-ree-vee!" which means, "Don't touch the TV." And the other day he slipped and bumped his chin on the nightstand in our bedroom, and as I was comforting him, I asked him "What happened, baby?" and he said, through tears, "Mouf. Babel." (Mouth. Table.) (Awwww!) And this morning, on his way down the stairs with Dean and Lester, he called my name, "Muh-muh?! Muh-muh!" until I came to the top of the stairs to see what he wanted. "Yes?" I said. And he waved at me and said, "Buh-bye, Muh-muh." (Double awww!)

This is a kid who has a lot of thoughts; I can tell. He expresses real emotion when he's "reading" books. When Corduroy the Bear falls off the bed, he says, "Ho, nooo!" When the barber is giving the baby a haircut in Dr. Seuss' ABC, Cary whimpers (he hates the clippers Lester uses to give Dean his haircuts). And in "Duck and Goose: How Are You Feeling?" he pretends to cry when we get to the "Sad" page, and he backs away from the book, saying "Dock! (dark)" at the "Scared" page. His favorite page is "Happy!" I love that!

I can't wait until he's able to express himself even more. I imagine having really fun conversations with him.

All in all, everyone is well and happy and our house is full of entertainment! Who needs cable when you've got twin toddlers and a baby on the way!

Big happiness in the little things

We had five full days off for the Thanksgiving break (including the weekend) and it was great to be able to spend so much time together, hanging in and hanging out. We played games and read books and ate meals together and it was lovely. (Why do we have to work again? Blah.)

So I am very,very, very thankful for honest-to-goodness quality time with my husband and babies. (Thank you, Lord.)

I am also very thankful that my brother Rashad is still alive to celebrate Thanksgiving (and Christmas and many holidays to come) with us. (Yessss, Lord! Thank you!)

Other things I am thankful for:

Cary and Dean's inaugural trip to the grocery store!

Yes, it took us 18-months to get these boys out to experience the magical world of the grocery store. It was always too hard with two infants, and then when they were new, unsure walkers, it wasn't any easier. Now that they're much more confident walkers, eliminating the need for a stroller and a cart, Lester felt like he could handle a trip to the store with them. In his report back he said the trip was..."fine." Not a ringing endorsement, but certainly not a total mess.
He said the babies sat in the car above for all of 10 minutes, and then they were done. They wanted to run around or be in the cart. They screamed because they saw cheese. They screamed because they saw milk. To keep them from totally losing it, Lester had to give them stolen contraband (string cheese -- which he did pay for, eventually.)
Note to Davis parents: Next time feed boys before going to grocery store and/or bring snacks.

I am also grateful for this video (shortened) of my boys, my Dad, my brother and my husband raking the leaves at my parents' house.
Things to note:
1. My brother!! Operating a leaf-blower!!! Alive! Well! Dressed like a homeless person! But here, with us, participating in family events just like old times! Praises and honor and glory to God!!
2. Dean "helping" put leaves in a trash bag.
3. Cary "raking" the leaves with a stick, and totally getting in my Dad's way.
4. Family togetherness that is worth more than anything.



(To keep this blog honest, I was going to add a section about all the things I'm NOT thankful for. Mostly family annoyances and growing pains-type-stuff. But you know what? I think I'll just leave this the way it is.)

Emerging independence

In the mornings, the boys hang out upstairs with us while we get ready for work. They usually do a fairly good job of destroying the upstairs, but there's not much we can do, as we have to get ready and the boys are too young to play downstairs by themselves while we get dressed.

Or are they?

This morning, Cary decided that he was going to go downstairs, by himself. I was unaware that he had ventured to the first floor because Dean was still around distracting me by handing me stray bobby pins he found lying around, and pulling on Lester's phone chargers.
Then I heard the melodic sounds of "Old MacDonald" coming from downstairs.
"Where's Cary?" I yelled to Lester, who was in the next room.
"Downstairs," he said, nonchalantly.

My first reaction was to go get him, but then I thought about it. The baby gates are up. We've pretty much made sure the first floor is kid-friendly. What's the harm? He wanted to play with his toys, and we were taking too long getting ready, so he took matters into his own hands.
I decided to let him be.

A few minutes later, I noticed that it was awfully quiet down there. No B-I-N-G-O. No annoying Cookie Monster "C-is-for cookie," toy going off incessantly. Just quiet.

I leaned over the banister and yelled: "CARE-EEE?"

"Hmmm?" he said.

"What are you doing?"

To which, my 18-month-old child actually replied, "Reee!"

I stepped down a few steps, in order to peek between the stairway slats. And sure enough, there he was, sitting on the playmat, books strewn all around, "reading" his "Beep Beep" book.

And when he was finished, he simply crawled back up the steps and began taking things from Dean, causing the normal weekday morning commotion.

As much as people always say, "It's so great you have twins; they can entertain one another!" I have to say that -- surprisingly -- I liked it so much better this morning when at least one of my boys discovered he could entertain himself. By himself.

Skipping meals and popping pills

It appears the sleep regression in our house is something that will wax and wane.

For about the last week or so, the boys have been blissfully sleeping through the night (cue the angels singing). The only person waking up a million times at night is their baby-resting-on-her-bladder Mommy. (cue the heavy sighing).

I knew a week of STTN meant that we had had too much of a good thing, so I wasn't surprised when Dean woke up last night around 1:30, crying, needing a hug, his Lovey and some more hugs. And then I wasn't surprised when Cary then woke up, too, saying "Ma-ma! Up, pees!"

No, I was not surprised. But as this would not be my life if there weren't some drama involved, of course I had to worry about something.

Two things had happened earlier in the night that have never happened before in our house:

1) Dean refused to eat even one bite of his dinner. Instead, he decided it was better to get remanded to time-out -- twice -- for throwing food on the floor or across the dining room table. Nothing I could do would make this child eat. The pediatrician had just told us a few days earlier that we should not allow Dean to continue with dinnertime if he insists on quarterbacking his meals. "Two times," Dr. Bodnar says. "And then dinner's done." He said if he was hungry, he'd eat and not throw. And the fact is that kids his age eat so much during the day (with snacks and all) that by the time they reach dinner, they're often not all that hungry. And that's OK, he assured me.

But is it? IS IT?

Because when Dean woke up last night, all I could think of was: "This child is starving!! He needs to eat! What should I do? What should I DO??"

2) While Lester was getting Dean undressed for his bath, Cary somehow, somewhere unEarthed an old pill that was hidden God-knows-where in our bedroom. I think, from the size and shape of it, that it is one of the old diabetes-related pills I was taking pre-pregnancy, and that it must've fallen at some point and I forgot about it. Whatever it was, Cary found it and of course, ate it.
Thank God the pill-makers purposefully make pills bitter, because Lester spied Cary's (actually quite-hysterical) screwed-up, sour face and immediately removed the pill from his mouth. So he only sucked it a little bit, as opposed to gulping the thing down whole.
Helpful-Poison-Control-Man assured me over the phone that this particular medicine was fairly benign, even in small children, and besides, 'it sounds like he only sucked off the coating anyway." So, he summed up, no need to worry. Cary should be just fine.

Will he? WILL HE??

Because when Cary woke up last night, all I could think of was, "This child has been poisoned!! He needs his stomach pumped! What should I do? What should I DO??"

I really considered filling Dean's stomach, and emptying Cary's (somehow), but then Lester got up, went in the room with the crying babies, said something I couldn't hear because I was too busy thinking of what I would tell CPS when they came asking me why my one child was sucking on diabetes medicine and why my other child was starving to death, and then came back in the room and said, "Go back to sleep. They're fine."

About 10 more minutes of really half-hearted crying later, they were both knocked out again -- this time until 7:15 this morning.

And they've been fine since.

The moral of this story is....I have no idea. But I am certain I will have more such stories to tell in the future. Stay tuned.

Worst night with the babies ever!

I used this blog title once before and predicted I would use it again many times throughout my children's babyhood. So far, although I have had many, many "worst nights ever" I have resisted titling a blog post as such, because I always felt slightly better about the night by the time I got around to sitting in front of a computer to complain about it.

Not so when it comes to last night.

I will not go into all the details, as I would be here all day repeating these key words and phrases:

Screaming, whining, defiance, temper tantrums, resisting, meltdowns, brother-swatting, dinnertime indecisiveness, irrationality, uncontrollable crying, food on the floor, banging sippy cups, confiscated sippy cups, more screaming, whining, bucking, flailing, unhappy bathtime, complete and total craziness, demands to be rocked in the rocking chair before bed, waking at night for missing Lovey, then 2 hours later, waking at night for NO REASON WHATSOEVER, screaming, crying, refusing to go back to sleep, melodramatic moaning for "Ma-Ma!!!!", "Da-Da!!!", throwing Lovey out of the bed and saying "Uh-oh! Uh-oh! UH-OH!" until someone comes in to retrieve Lovey, more screaming (at higher decibels), wife snapping at husband, husband snapping at wife, retreat to basement to get away from screaming toddler(s), eating waffles AND a bowl of cereal (I know. I know!), mindless television, finally, finally hearing the sweet sounds of silence at 4 a.m. Delirious at 6:45 a.m. What am I doing wrong??

Seriously, people. I feel like I am about to lose my mind. If it's just craziness in the evenings, but then we get to rest peacefully at night, I could probably deal. Or if the boys were pleasant and enjoyable in the evenings but were having toddler-troubles with sleeping, I could probably deal. But this all-you-can-eat smorgasbord of craziness they've started lately? I can. not. deal.

"There is nobody in the world more lovable, more unmovable, more implacable, more challenging, more difficult to live with than your 'typical' 15- to 21-month-old child," so says Louise Bates Ames, in "Your One-Year-Old: Fun-Loving and Fussy."

Truer words have never been written.

I just wish I knew what to do to help them through this "phase" (at least I hope it's a phase).

But since I have no clue (really, I have been using ALL of my tricks and none of them are working) I suppose I will just become more and more familiar with the basement -- and maybe not just in the middle of the night. Maybe I'll start taking my meals down there! Maybe I'll start coming in the basement door after work, so they don't even know I'm there!!!

Sigh.

Maybe this will just get better??

Crack, Drive, Amaze!

My boys turned 17 months last week, and they are very much 17-month-olds!

(Look, we can eat corn-on-the-cob like big boys!)



They seriously CRACK Lester and me up, especially now that they feel the urge to "sing" at random times, and also to dance in their cribs, swaying their hips from side-to-side, or high-stepping and shuffling their little feet, baby River Dance style.

But they also seriously DRIVE Lester and me crazy in so many ways.

1. They are LOUD! Everything they say is said as if we are in a wind tunnel or something. Or perhaps they think we're so old, we're starting to be a little hard of hearing. 'Cause man - do they shriek! Dean screams and cries constantly, but even when he's just talking normally, his voice is loud. And Cary is his equal in that department. Imagine some tiny little person screeching "TRRRUCK! TRRRUCK!" while waving the "Trucks" book at you, demanding a millionth reading.

2. They are willful, obstinate, defiant and just plain mischievous at times. If we say, "Come here," they move in the opposite direction. The words, "We don't throw food on the floor," apparently get translated into Babyese to mean, "Please continue flinging your food onto the floor! This time with fervor! Thanks!" And so on. I'm so confused because all the baby books said, "Your baby loves to see you smile. He only wants to please you!" Hogwash and poppycock! My babies are tiny terrorists with adorable faces and chubby, kissable feet.

3. Dean still needs two naps a day, while Cary is more and more resisting the second nap. But Dean hates going to bed without his brother, and Cary hates being put in his crib in the afternoons. This is a conundrum. Help!

4. Dean's abusive-boyfriend tendencies are getting stronger and more prevalent. He literally pushes me around the house, attempting to get me to do things he wants me to do, or stop doing things he doesn't want me to do. He cries when he sees Cary sitting on my lap reading, and will push Cary off my lap if I don't make room for him fast enough. He shoves Lester away from me if we're in an embrace, or cries if I hug or kiss Lester and he's in his highchair, so can't get to me to shove Lester away. And the other night, I sang to him in his crib while Lester was getting Cary lotioned and pajama-ed for bed. While I sang, he looked lovingly up at me, and stroked Lovey the Puppy contentedly. The minute I finished the song and turned to Cary to sing to him, Dean grunted and growled at me -- growled! -- to express his displeasure. Not quite sure our precious baby really did this, Lester asked me to do it again. So I sang to Dean (loving eyes, more-puppy-stroking) and then turned to sing to Cary. Again with the grunting and growling!
Seriously, people, what is going to happen when baby Curve Ball gets here? (That's her nickname until we can finally settle on a real name for her.) Will I need to take out a protective order against Deanie? This is worrying me!

But more than anything, Cary and Dean seriously AMAZE Lester and me, with their humor, intelligence, affection and development.

Besides the Trucks book, Cary also loves a book called "Beep Beep" which has one page full of colorful cars on a highway. We always count the cars with him, and we constantly catch him sitting on the floor with the book, pointing one chubby finger at the cars and saying, "Twooo, twooo, twooo" as if he's counting!

Dean has learned how to climb up on the couch, throw the couch pillows on the floor, and then dive (sometimes headfirst, but more often feet-first) onto the pillows. Smart kid figured out that it's better to land on pillows than on our hardwood floors!

After tearing through our mail the other day, Cary stomped over to Lester with a health-care-insurance pamphlet, waved it in Lester's face and demanded, "Reeeee!" (read) ... He thought it was a book! Ha.

Cary still thinks his name is "Deeee" but Dean the other day leaned in Cary's direction with Cary's bib in his hand and, I swear, called Cary's name. Well, the last syllable of Cary's name: "Ree!" he said, thrusting the bib at Cary. "Ree!" It was cute.

Dean has learned how to slide on his belly down the steps. He is good at it! (This also makes Lester very nervous as someone -- I won't say who -- still has not put up the baby gate at the top of the stairs).

Both of them will telegraph that they're about to do something wrong by saying, "No, no!" before doing said wrong thing.Occasionally, they say it after they've done said wrong thing, as they're walking away from the evidence. Dean waggles his pointer finger while he's saying it. It's funny. And infuriating. (Kid, if you know you're not supposed to do it, why do ya? Huh? HUH?!)

And every day is full of hugs and kisses and giggles galore -- from both boys.

All in all, they are living up to the Ames' description of them at this age: Fun-loving AND Fussy.

And we are loving every minute of it!

Boys have a great day at Port Discovery; Mommy meets her first blogfriend!

We haven't been to Port Discovery since the boys were...hmmm...fairly new crawlers. Wow. That just hit me in a weird way. Time is really passing.

Anyway (before I get all teary) we went back there today and it was even better than the first time. The boys LOVE the Tot Trails room, and spent more than an hour exploring and playing and just generally having a blast.

Here is a shot of them at the sandbox, before things went very, very, very wrong. (Picture Cary's hair covered in sand. And Dean's too).


Here's the "lawnmower," which was a huge hit, as you might imagine. Cary commandeered it half the afternoon, when he wasn't on the mega Lite Brite board. Dean made an adorable motoring noise when he rolled it back and forth.

OK, there were a couple small tussles. This one was over a duckie on a stick.


But mostly there was fun. Here's Cary staring at himself in a mirror, calling himself, "Deee." (Dean.) One day my child will realize that he is Cary and Dean is Dean.


Dean -- banging things with a stick. (A favorite pasttime.)


Cary and his second favorite thing -- the Lite Brite board. He OWNED this thing.



Dean smiling because I have told him 15 times to stop EATING the stick. And somehow this is funny. Little stinker.


BUT...by far the best part of the visit was meeting up with my VERY FIRST BLOGFRIEND!!

Beth brought her super-adorable boys William and Seth to Port Discovery and we met up. It was so great to meet her; she was kind and sweet and funny, very much like her blog (which I have become a huge fan of).

And I am more in awe of her now that I know a little more about her crazy schedule (seriously, I don't know how she does it) and now that I've met her boys in person. They are so stinkin' cute!

And Beth gets kudos for wanting to hang out with a pregnant woman with maniac twin toddlers!

It was so nice to meet you, Beth! I can't wait for the next playdate. And the first grown-up date -- whenever I can have cocktails again!

Countdown to Lameville

This was a great Labor Day weekend for the Davis family.

1. We got out with the boys every day of the weekend! This is a first for our family!

Saturday, we got up and went to breakfast at a little diner not too far from our house. The boys were really good, and only made minimal messes under their highchairs, and didn't cry, scream or throw utensils. After the diner, we stopped at a playground in our neighborhood and let the boys swing for a few minutes. Lester took Dean down a big-boy slide, and Cary watched a group of men play a pick-up basketball game. Then it was time for nap, and both boys went without fuss, and slept for two to two-and-a-half hours. (Bet you can guess who was up first.)

After their nap, I took the boys to a cookout my brother's girlfriend threw in honor of his being alive (Yay!) and getting better every day. The boys were fine on the way down, but I overstayed my welcome at the cookout and paid for it, both toward the latter part of the cookout, and then on the way home. And since we live an hour and some change away from my family, I paid for a looooong time.

Sunday, we decided to go looking at minivans, because Honda was having a great Labor Day weekend offer on interest rates. This adventure did not turn out as well as our earlier trek out to the diner/playground. The boys had a short first nap for some reason, and had not had a second nap, so they were irritable and unpleasant. We went to one dealership and left after only looking at one car. Lesson learned about bringing twin toddlers to a car dealership and expecting to get anything accomplished.

Monday we took the babies to buy new shoes. I thought their shoes we bought a few months back still fit just fine, but my Mom reminded me at the cookout that babies outgrow their shoes rather quickly. Wouldn't you know Mom was right? The boys' shoes were both size 4, but their feet now measure at 5 (Dean) and 5 and a half (Cary). We went to Stride Rite because Kristie the physical therapist suggested a certain kind of shoe to help Dean's little foot, but let me tell you: That is the LAST time we are going to Stride Rite. The service was wonderful and I'm sure the shoes are the best. But we paid $150 for 4 pairs of BABY shoes, and this was during the store's buy-one-get-one-half-off sale! $150!!!
Never again. Seriously folks. That is insane!

After buying shoes, we ate at Nordstrom Cafe (delicious) and then drove home in the driving rain to greet my parents, who came out for a visit. I was so glad they came because they almost always see the babies (Dean, especially) out of their element, and so don't really know how adorable and pleasant my boys can be when they're comfortable, not sleepy or hungry, and on familiar territory. And just as I predicted, both boys were ADORABLE while Mom and Dad were here. So I was really glad of that. I hate that people think my babies are crankypots all the time. They can be crankypots, true. But 75-percent of the time, they are quite lovely. Darnit.

2. We bought a minivan. Yes, we are officially lame.

While Mom and Dad were here hanging out with us, Lester went to a dealer selling a used Honda Odyssey with pretty low miles and just about all the features we wanted (back-up camera, DVD for the boys, lots o' storage space, etc.) for a reasonable price. He worked his magic, got them to meet most of our terms and, a few hours later came home with the car. It was kinda sad, as I didn't even get to say good-bye to my little CR-V, which I liked a lot. And I still am not used to the idea of being a minivan owner. Where has all my swag gone??

Swag or no swag, we really needed a bigger car with the new addition coming. And truth be told, we needed the bigger car even before. Lester's knees were almost touching the dashboard when he drove, because of the boys' car seats forcing him to pull his seat up so far. And there really was not enough room for all the crap you have to schlep when you have more than one kid. But I did like that little car. Waaaaaaah.

3. We ordered new convertible car seats for the boys.

This is a big deal, as I had done a ton of research and queried a bunch of people (in person and on Facebook) and I still was unsure what to get. So I was pretty sure I'd just put off the decision until it was absolutely necessary. But somehow I made a gametime decision and ordered the Britax Roundabout 55, which got good reviews both from parents and from Consumer Reports.
So the boys will now move from those infant carrier seats (which weighed a TON) to bigger-boy seats, which I hope will make them happier in the car, since they'll be able to see out of the window a little better. We'll still keep them rear-facing for a little while longer, but front-facing is on its way. My boys are growing older. Waaaaaaaah, some more.

In fact, this post isn't really about being lame. I guess if I think about it, it's really about growth.

My boys are growing (even their feet grew). Our family is growing. Even my little vegetables in a pot on my front porch are growing (thanks to all this crazy rain we've been having lately!) And I always thought I was too "cool" to ever drive a minivan, but clearly I have grown up considerably since the days of thinking about what is cool and what is not. (Who even cares anyway?)

All this growth is a wonderful, beautiful thing. So why do I feel just the tiniest bit sad?

News flash!

Tonight, Dean said his first two-word sentence!

He said, "Bye-Bye, Da-Da!"

Exciting!!

Headed out for the long weekend

But I realized I hadn't blogged in a couple days (it's been crazy at work trying to get a website launched for a client), so I thought I'd leave with a quick thought.

My boys were Super-duper-amazingly-awesome yesterday after work! I could not believe it.

They have been so outrageously cranky and unpredictable lately, that I was starting to believe they were just crankypots by nature. But yesterday, there was not a tear or a scream in sight, they both ate their dinner happily (Cary even asked for more!), they were cracking up at the silliest things all night, they took their baths without TOO much fighting over the toothbrushes and they both slept until 7:45 this morning!

On top of all this, they were lovey and sweet at times, and independent and cute at others, which is what we want our children to be ALL THE TIME, right?

Oh well, I'll take it when I can get it.

We have early voting here in Baltimore and Lester has to work the polls all day until about 8, so I'm on baby-duty alone tonight. So who wants to take bets as to whether Cary and Dean will pull a repeat performance of their all-out loveliness tonight?

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.

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.