Three photos that tell you a little something about my children

I am often snapping photos of the kids with my iPhone. Most of them are pretty crappy, because it's the iPhone (and an old one at that -- with the sucky camera) and I'm not a great photographer.

But a photo isn't all about the technical execution of it, right? Beauty, lighting and composition are important, yes, but what's even more important is what the photo means to the viewer.

So when I was looking back through my collection of phone photos and came across these three photos, I felt really proud of my incessant snapping. Because somehow, I captured something really core about each of my children -- without even really trying.

 Clair:

 
At first glance, this looks like a photo of Clair sleeping sweetly in her crib. She is a pretty champion sleeper, but that's not what got me about this pic. Look carefully. Do you see the green and pink things decorating her blanket and sheets? Yes, well those are supposed to be decorating her wall! Remember that tree I spent 90 minutes applying to the wall behind her crib, when I was pregnant with her - and had a raging head cold, to boot? This is what has become of it. She peels the stickers off the walls and tosses them around her crib, or flings them on the floor. Why? Because she can.
My Clair is always, always getting into things. She is always doing something stereotypically toddlerish. She is a silly, mischievous little rascal, and I LOVE it that this photo of serenity is accented by evidence of the A+ she gets every day in Advanced Level Nuisance.
Also...I just love her so much. I crept into her room to take this photo and -- even though she had clearly just been destroying my decorating work -- my heart just overflowed watching her sleep.

Dean:

I have said before that Dean is a do-er and a helper. But the older he gets, the more and more those traits show through. He is SUCH a help to me and to everyone around him -- even when you don't actually *need* his help, he insists on giving it. He has been asking and asking to help wash the dishes (I know right? Who does that?), and I usually say no because ...ain't nobody got time for that.
But on this night, I said yes. And lo and behold -- this child actually paid attention when I showed him how to wet the sponge, turn off the water, soap up the sponge, wash all the surfaces of each dish, rinse the dish and then put it in the dish drain. After I showed him ONE time, he did it himself with such precision and conscientiousness, I was shocked. He did a great job! And he was so proud of himself. I love how helpful my little boy is, and how much he enjoys being a caretaker. Lester and I still could do much better finding activities that satisfy his need to be cutting, banging, fixing, fiddling, doing. And we are going to really make an effort to do that, because he really loves being up in the mix so much. But in the meantime, until we find some kind of toddler shop class or some such, we have a ton of chores he can do! :-)

Cary:

I love this photo -- which I took because Clair was being so silly, pretending to sleep in the kitchen (fake snoring and all). I snapped it because of Clair, but then I realized that it is really illustrious of Cary's wonderful bookworm personality. At night before bed, he reads. In the morning, when he is supposed to be getting himself dressed, he reads. In the middle of craziness (baby sisters sleeping on the kitchen floor?), he reads. He reads books, magazines, catalogs, pamphlets, the local pizza shop flyer. If it has words on it, he studies it, every page, brings it to bed and hoards it. When it was his turn to pick something to bring to school to share with his class this week, he chose his High Five magazine. And when he is into his "reading," it is SO hard to tear him away. I can't tell you how many timeouts we've had to threaten because he gets so engrossed in whatever he is reading and it's like he honestly just blocks out everything else. He reminds me a ton of the way my mother describes herself at this age. Lazy as a lima bean; not the most social child; always, always with her head in a book. How did I give birth to my mother, y'all?

I love these three little human beings. And it is SO much fun getting to know who they are.

Cary and B.O.B. are becoming friends

Some of you mentioned the B.O.B. books for Cary when I mentioned a while back that he was showing some very preliminary early reading signs.

I was doubtful that he was ready, so I didn't get them. But lately, Cary has been poking his bottom lip out, lamenting that "I don't know how to reeeeeeaaad," and "I can't reeeeead!" so I figured it couldn't hurt to at least try the books and see how he does.

We got the first set of books last week, and he is doing so great with them, I can't even tell you!

I don't know why the sound on this video is soooo incredibly low, but if you turn your computer speakers ALL the way up, as far as they'll go, you can hear him sounding out words phonetically, like a big boy! So proud of him! Most of all, he is really proud of himself!

Dean is also doing very well with the books, though he is not as adept just yet as his older, book-loving brother in this area. But what has surprised me about my builder/doer/helper boy Dean is that --  once he saw Cary "reading" --  he immediately took a serious interest in the books, and has been asking me every day to read them to him and help him sound out words. And unlike Cary, who is easily frustrated when he doesn't quickly master something, Dean is undeterred by mistakes and just wants to keep trying and trying and trying. I SO admire that trait in him. (Not sure who he gets that from, but don't look my way...)

It's nice to see them both excited about these books. Generally, Dean has his "thing" and Cary has his, and they both sorta don't care what the other one is into. But with this, both boys are equally psyched about at least trying to figure out what those darn words on those little pages are actually saying!

Looking forward to them learning even more about reading this school year! Maybe by this time next year, they'll be reading bedtime stories to us.

My hilarious hellraiser

I have never been parent to a little girl before, and I don't know all the little girl children who have ever lived, so I know this is a totally unscientific statement. But, hear me when I say: Clair is the craziest, funniest, most maddening human child to ever walk the Earth.

She will be 2 in a couple weeks and she has already hit the terrible 2s most terribly.

She doesn't just defy, she laughs maniacally when defying. She doesn't just refuse to unhand the thing you're telling her she can't have, she hurls it across the room like a shot putter. She doesn't ask for anything, she SCREAMS for what she wants -- ear-piercing, relentless, nerve-grating screams.
She hits. She spits. She throws her food off her plate when she's done eating. She shouts, "GOOD!BYE!" and storms out of rooms. She terrorizes her brothers and confounds her parents.

She is, quite simply, a piece. of. work.

And then...just when you have decided to pack her up and ship her to Siberia...just then she:

Befriends a little girl at her Saturday tumbling class:

Loves all up on the patient, sweet "kitty" (AKA miniature Schnauzer) at a SuperBowl party:

Climbs up at a keyboard and says, "I sing Farm, Mommy. McDonald Farm," and plunks away:

Takes pity on her poor father (this was in an email to me):

I just asked her for a kiss and she said no.

I pretended to cry and she said "Ho On, daddy. I readin. Finish. Then kiss. OK?"

I said, "OK. But how long do I have to hold on?"

"I READIN! Wait I finish. OK?"

"OK."

Then she closed the book, leaned in and gave me a kiss. Ha. She's too funny.

 

And sees God in everything around her (also in an email from Lester):

 

Showing me the football helmet stamped on her left hand:

Me: Who gave you a helmet?

Clair with a mouthful of cereal: GeeZus

Me: Jesus?

Clair: Yas.

Me: Jesus put that helmet on your hand?

Clair: Yas. GeeZus gave me Hal-mut.

Me: Well OK.

 

(Note: She got the football helmet after her tumbling class. A cheerful 20-something named Amberlee gave it to her.) 

Hahahaha! Too funny.

 

Clair never fails to lean in and hug a crying Dean, or say, "God bless you, Cary" when he sneezes. She asks, "What matter you, Mommy? You OK?" when you cough and she always shares her last bit of chauk-wit (chocolate) with anyone who asks.

She cracks us up; she makes us want to cry. She is a hilarious, heart-warming hellraiser.

I couldn't be more delighted with her -- or more afraid of the pre-teen and teenaged years.

Pray for us. :-)

From sight words to "reading" words

Cary has been showing signs lately that he really wants to know how to read. He picks up anything he can find with words on it and asks us, "What does this word say? What does this word say?"

I told my Mom -- who has a Master's in early childhood education -- and she told me to start teaching him to recognize simple "sight words," words that every person who can read just recognizes from rote memory, without having to sound out or use context clues to figure out. I looked up "sight words" online and found there were a ton! But my sister, also an educator, told me to focus on the Dolch sight words -- and only on the very, very first level.

So about a month ago I put up this collection of words on the wall in front of their activity table, so they could see it every day.

I put the words up with a different word next to 'my' but had to take it down when Cary said, "Mommy, you forgot 'of'." So I had to write 'of' on a post-it. He now tells me I don't have "he." But I haven't gotten around to getting "he" up there yet.

And every now and then, we'd go over the words. We'd only do a few at a time, and when they got bored, I'd stop. I was really surprised at how quickly they picked up the words, especially Cary. Sometimes, I would even see Cary mouthing the words to himself, on his own. (That boy loves the written word!)

When I talked to Tahira about it, she told me that Cary was ready to start reading and suggested the BOB books. But I looked at them and thought that at 3.5, he just wasn't ready. He can recognize a few words by sight (thus the point of "sight words"), but he can't read. I figured I'd wait until they turned 4.

But last night, we were reading "Green Eggs and Ham," and on a whim, I asked Cary to help me read a couple pages. And I have to say, he did way better than I thought he would, not just recognizing sight words, but remembering the words from (far too) many readings of the book, and also trying to sound some words out. Good ole Dr. Seuss really works!

Not to be outdone, Dean tried his hand at it, too. Bless his heart. :-)

 It is really amazing to see my boys even attempt to read! One of these days, they'll be picking up "Game of Thrones" to read along with me! (At the rate I'm going with Book 2, they might finish the series before I do. Not joking.)

The point is, now I'm considering buying the BOB books, but I'm going to talk to their preschool teachers next week at their parent-teacher conference first. I want to make sure anything I'm doing is helping and not hurting. And I also need tips on how to work with Cary, who is clearly farther ahead than his brother (in this area), without doing any damage to Dean's self-esteem or making him think that reading is "Cary's thing."

Because, really, each of them is doing really great at pre-reading skills, and I'm so, so proud of them both!

*Not sure why these videos aren't working. Grrrr! You'll have to trust me that they're both pretty cute.

Bringing my blog back up-to-date

The last few weeks have been so jam-packed, I haven't had time to properly blog. My goal is to get something down at least five times a week, but that is like a pipe dream, even on the best weeks.

So lots of stuff gets unrecorded, and lots of thoughts get unsaid. But there's nothing to do but to jump right back into it. So here goes.

I'll start with a hodge-podge of things that happened over the course of the last couple weeks or so.

You already saw the kids in their adorable Halloween costumes, but you didn't get to see MOI.

I'm the Queen Bee, y'all. Bzzzz.

Momma Bee went to the boys' school for their Halloween party. While there, I had to be the "kid" and the boys were the teachers. "Sit down, Mommy!" they said. "Criss-cross applesauce!"

Here they are showing me what day of the week it is. I also learned what the weather was. And, if I was very good, I could possibly have gotten to be the line-leader or the door-holder. But I don't remember earning any of those things. I must not have been very good.

Last week, Lester got invited to go to "Thank the elected officials night" at The National Aquarium, even though he's not an elected official. But his boss is, and so we joined him there for a nighttime reception, dolphin show and free rein of the awesome Baltimore aquarium. (If you haven't been, it's really quite nice.)

There were lots of questions about where dolphins go poop (and lots of "ewwwing") and lots of emphatic declarations that jellyfish DO give us jelly, Mommy. "That's why they're called JELLYfish!" Duh.

My favorite is the boysenberry jellyfish. Peach is pretty tasty too.

We got to take home this snapshot of us holding Photoshopped puffins. Cary, who was in no mood to participate with the photographer's requests, was heartbroken when he realized that his pouty refusals to hold his hands out meant he didn't get to 'hold' a puffin when the picture came out. Oh well. Life lesson, Cary. It'll learn ya.

In other news, I'm happy to say, after an October of jam-packed Sundays, we went to the church we like two weekends in a row and pretty much decided we want to join. But first we're going to attend a newcomer's reception this Sunday and ask a few more questions, just to be sure.

I'm excited about possibly joining a church again. But I will be even more glad when Lester and I can both sit in the sanctuary and hear the message together, as opposed to what usually happens: One of us ends up in the lobby with Clair, who refuses to sit still during the lesson and screams bloody murder when we try to leave her in the (very sweet and cute) little nursery. Ugh.

For now, I'll just be happy that we're getting our butts up and getting ourselves to church again. Baby steps, right?

After church last weekend, we ended up going grocery shopping as a family, which we rarely do because hello -- three kids? Wegman's is near the church, so we went there, which was a total blessing! The kids were starving after church, so I took them through the prepared foods section of the grocery store and bought lunch, which we ate upstairs while Lester took the list and shopped.

When the kids were done eating, we just went over and played in the grocery store's children's area until Lester got the car loaded and came back to get us. Easy peasy.

Seriously, whoever came up with the brilliant idea to have a children's area near a dining area, near a bank of bathrooms, upstairs from a huge supermarket -- that person is a bonafide, A No. 1 genius.

We can't afford to shop at Wegman's all the time -- especially when you factor in having to feed the lot of us while we're there, instead of eating lunch at home. But when we have to do it, I'm grateful that we have it as an option. (Also, I made the easiest delicious butternut squash for dinner, thanks to Wegman's handy-dandy "buy a vegetable, we'll dice it for you" service. I love Wegman's!)

And lastly, I have to say how excited I was when Cary came padding into our room yesterday morning (a half-hour before it was time to wake-up, but I'll forgive him) and said, "Look, Mommy." Then, slowly, pointing to each word with his little finger:  'A. Is. For.'"

He read that!

Then he pointed to the alligator and said "Alligator. A. Is For. ALLIGATOR!"

Best 6:15 wake-up call I ever had.

Tomorrow is the end of the soccer season -- there's a parents vs. kids soccer game and a pizza party! Cary and Dean are beside themselves with excitement.

Happy weekend everybody!

Sometimes reading is helpful!

Those of you who have read this blog for any period of time know that far too often I read myself into a tizzy or a funk or a murky abyss of worry. No matter how horrible I feel after reading about all the bad things that can happen to children in life, I can't stop reading! In fact, I usually just seek out more worrisome stuff to read. It's like scratching an itch until it hurts, and then continuing to scratch. Am I the only one who does that?

Anyway, this is an affliction of my own doing, and I'm working on it (sorta).

But sometimes reading makes me feel better about things and not worse! (I love it when that happens!)

Like as I am skimming through my Ames developmental book "Your 3-Year-Old: Friend or Enemy" and come across this page:

SEE? Kids have "strong points and weak ones." And the better parents are at recognizing both, "the more effectively [we] can manage to see that much of the time [they are] successful." It's important that parents recognize the weaknesses in a kid "without giving him the feeling that he is not a good and valuable person, as you know he is."

Isn't that what I JUST said? Holy confirmation, Batman. I should be a writer of developmental books for kids!

I also loved it, and needed to hear it, when Auntie Louise (that's what I call her) said this:

She totally wrote that JUST for me. I needed someone to take that unreasonable pressure off of me -- and off of the kids, too. Thanks, Auntie Louise!

One other thing I loved about this book is that she repeatedly says throughout, "Your 3-year-old is not your enemy." She says it so many times, it makes me know that lots of parents feel that their 3-year-old has completely turned against them and all things good and holy. (LOL!) But really, she assures us, this is not the case.

Your 3-year-old is not your enemy, folks. Your 3-year-old is THREE.

(I have been reminding myself of this truth multiple times daily.)

Streetcar museum and the many moods of Clair!

Our friend Hugo turned 3 this week and his party was yesterday, at the Baltimore Streetcar Museum.

Hugo's mom Stacey nailed this one -- what a place to have a party!! The boys got to ride on two different kinds of trolley cars and they absolutely loved it. There was a real conductor (gasp!) and he let them ring the train bell (double gasp!) There were stoplights and train tracks and cupcakes and juice boxes and all the kids there were in heaven.

Standing in front of an old trolley. Look how big and handsome my boys are getting!

Clair found this gizmo to be irresistible.

The conductor was straight out of central casting.

The boys sang train-related songs to themselves and shouted, "I'm the train master! Chugga-chugga!"

Why can't I have a FOURTH juice box????

This watermelon is deeeelicious. Before the party is over, I will have decorated my entire body with it.

We had a great time at the party, and I'm sure we'll be back at this museum many times.

This weekend, Clair also had her own party at our house, destroying the cabinets again, and "reading" books to herself.

Please check out the expressions on this girl. She is a trip.

What? You don't like my artwork?

Your looks of frustration crack me up! Do it again, Mommy!

The boys were napping and I was cleaning up the kitchen. Clair was quiet, so I tiptoed into the living room to see what she was up to and caught her sitting, quietly "reading' Brown Bear Brown Bear. So sweet.

This is the face she made when she noticed I was taking her picture.

At Hugo's party, one of Stacey's friends said to us, "I bet there's never a dull moment at your house."

She is so right. Not with these three characters! And I'm loving every minute of it.

Dean reports that he knows how to read!

After dinner yesterday, Dean came up to me yelling, "Mommy, I know how to read! I know how to read like Russy knows how to read!" (They love and look up to Russy so much!)

 Here's his version of "reading:"

Isn't that the cutest thing? He's so excited!

I love it!

I Spy a library book! And it better not be torn!

This weekend, I took the boys to Storyville, one of our favorite and easy go-to places when we're looking for something to do to get out of the house. I'd wanted to take them to the park/playground, because the weather was beautiful (damn global warming!) but it had rained all night Friday so I was in no mood to brave the mud.

This Storyville visit ended a little differently than others have. The boys actually wanted me to read them the books they have strewn around the place, instead of just running around from station to station, unable to sit still. So we read a bunch of stories and discovered that the boys LOVE "I Spy" books (the board books; not the bigger, more complicated ones). They loved them so much that when it was time to leave, a major hissy fit started. They both wanted to take an I Spy book with them. I tried explaining that we couldn't take the books home, that they were for everyone to share, and for other children to use when they came to Storyville, but you all know how well explaining things logically to 2-year-olds works.

Anyway, turns out you CAN take the books home, because, DUH!, Storyville is a part of the Baltimore County library! All you need is a library card. Up until this weekend, I'd thought my boys were still a little young for borrowed books. Occasionally, a fight still breaks out over one of their books and pages get ripped and timeouts ensue and lectures happen about the sanctity of books. Everyone is appropriately remorseful, but the end result is still a torn book. When the books belong to us, I can deal. But I thought another year or two might do the boys well before we took on the responsibility of other people's books.

But they wanted I Spy books so bad! And I knew we'd never leave the library without it.

So we did the library-lesson a year or so early, and checked out six books, including one each that they got to pick out for themselves, and even one for Mommy ("Blood, Bones and Butter" -- which was my book club book LAST month. Ahem.) Dean picked out a Llama Llama board book that is actually more appropriate for Clair, and Cary picked out a Cars book that is waaaaay too advanced for him and also stupid, and I flat out hate reading it. Seriously, it is the dumbest book. I have no idea who that book was written for.  So I hope that the book-picking will someday get better. For now, though, I know that it really doesn't matter what they pick; just the fact that they are learning about the library and how it works -- and reading anything -- is all that matters.

 ******

In other news, we started the next session of music class, much to the boys' happiness. They literally jumped up and down and said "YAAAYYY!" when I told them Sunday morning that they were going back to music class. So color Lester and me both completely shocked when Cary acted a pure fool at the class, screaming and crying and refusing to participate. He was tired from a long night out at Lester's Aunt Tootie's house, and an early morning to boot, but his losing-of-his-ever-loving-mind went way beyond being tired. We don't know what his issue is lately, but Lordhavemercy. It stinks.

The only good thing about his weirdness lately is how sweet Dean is to him when Cary's having a moment. He really tries to care for him, and it is quite touching.  He is a very, very good brother. I hope it lasts a lifetime. The caring, not the craziness.

A study in contrasts

I have been cognizant of the stark differences in my two boys since birth -- and actually, since they were in the womb, when Dean was a mover and a kicker and Cary made me call the OB because I could barely feel him.

But sometimes, more than others, I am really struck by how different they are. Today, for example, Michelle and I took the boys to Port Discovery, something we've done many times. I took photos, as I always do, but I didn't pay a lot of attention to what I was doing, really, because frankly I have a zillion photos of them at Port Discovery now. So I was sorta vacantly snapping.

When I got home, though, and went to share the photos by e-mail with Lester, I couldn't help but notice this:

Dean, in constant motion, so much so that he is hard to photograph:







And Cary, very often, sitting and reading:








This is not to say that Dean doesn't like to read. He does. And sing! Boy does he love to sing.

And it is not to say that Cary doesn't run around like a crazy person, tearing my house up every day. He most certainly does. His favorite words these days are, "outside," "pway" and "park."

Lester is very nervous when I start categorizing my boys in the way that this post is doing. And I truly don't want to label them, for many reasons, but especially because I want them to discover who they are and who they want to become without potentially-damaging interference.

But the camera don't lie, peoples. You can see it for yourselves.

People are who they are; even those lucky people who happen to share a womb and a birthday.

********
Meanwhile, CLAIR UPDATE!



We went for her 6 week check-up yesterday -- even though she's technically 6-weeks-old today (Happy 6 weeks, Clair!) -- and my sweetie is 10 lbs. 4 oz. and 22 inches long. Yay! She's well-nourished! (Guilt-ridden bottle-feeding mommas out there, you know what I'm talkin' about!)

She started smiling at me about 10 days ago, and boy does that whole-face, toothless smile make a difference to a sleep-deprived mother! So far, Clair is very, very smiley and is always moving her mouth as if she wants to talk to me. I think this means she will grow into a happy, chatty girl, and I am pleased as can be with that.

After her doctor's appointment, I went to Panera and ordered breakfast, sat a table and read the paper and e-mail, while Clair napped in her carseat. When she got fussy, I fed her and then held her in my arms while I continued to read. She was so peaceful and smiley (even in her sleep), and I started thinking about how wonderful it will be when I can really, really hang out with my daughter, just the two of us, out on the town, having a bite to eat and enjoying one another. Of course, I started crying a little bit thinking about just how happy I am that God chose me to have a daughter -- and that He chose Clair to be the daughter I got.

Of course, I have no idea who these three human beings I gave birth to will turn out to be in the long run. But they sure are spectacular right now.

On talking, reading, singing and talking some more

Last night I had an appointment after work, so on my way there, I called home to talk to Lester and the boys, who were playing a little before getting ready for dinner.

Lester put me on speaker-phone so I could talk to the boys. Cary just wanted to push the buttons and giggle, but Dean had something to say:

Dean: Hi, Muh-muh.

Me: Hi, Deanie!!

Dean: Mo racka? (Lester had given them crackers to tide them over before dinner, and Dean wanted more. Lester had already said "no" a thousand times. So now he's asking me.)

Me: You want more crackers?

Dean: Pre-pees. (For some reason, he always says "pretty please," even though no one seems to recall teaching him that.)

Me: No, sweetie. Daddy said the crackers are all gone. It's almost time for dinner.

Dean: Dinner. Ah-mose.

Me. That's right. It's almost time for dinner. Do you want some good dinner? Daddy's gonna give you dinner soon.

Dean: Nooooooo! No dinner!

(Lester, in the background: "Cary, do you want some dinner?" Cary: "Noooooooooooo!! Nooooooo! Pway! [play]")

Me: Ummm, OK, babe. Talk to you later. (I felt meltdowns coming on any second and, to be frank, the radio was rockin' in the car, and I much preferred some sweet tunes to the cacophony of screaming toddlers.)

I recount this little scene to point out that I had a fairly intelligible phone conversation with my not-yet 21-month old baby, the one who is actually the least talkative of the two.

This just goes to show you Moms of infant twins or twin-Moms-to-be (you know who you are, DCAngel and Wiley) that all the books that tell you that twins will likely be speech delayed, and that boys will likely be speech delayed, and that preemies will likely be speech delayed -- all those books don't know diddly.

Now, I'm not saying don't read the books. I read them and I continue to read them. I just ordered the next in the series of Ames books to help me understand year 2 for the boys. The books ARE helpful. But they are not the end-all, be-all.

YOU know your kid(s) better than anyone. And you can defy the odds (barring any actual developmental issues that need outside intervention) just by doing what comes naturally to you: loving your babies, reading constantly to them, talking to them not at them, repeating things 800 million times, etc. etc.

It fueled me every time I read that twins were likely to get HALF the attention that a single baby would get. It drove me to say, That's what you think, baby books! My boys are going to get DOUBLE the attention. Ha! Take that!

And so I made it my mission. I made my sister read to them in the NICU when she came to see them. My Nana laughed at us that we read to them at one week old. "Will you look at this?!" she cackled. "Reading books to them already!" We never designated a "storytime." Anytime was a good time to read. We play music (kids' songs) everyday, regardless of how sick we get of hearing them. We sing to them ALL the time. They see TV in the mornings, when we're getting ready for work ("Noose!" they demand, if we don't have the Today Show turned on fast enough) and during football games (Lester insists). But other than that, no TV. We are with them, doing things and talking about what we're doing, explaining and expounding and then explaining some more. It's exhausting, if I'm being honest. But it's important.

(Two months old, already dreaming about books:)

And I'm not patting myself on the back here -- there are a million things I could and should do better as a parent. (Oh, yes, sooo many things!) I'm just saying that we were determined to make their early years language-rich, and so we try really hard not to let ourselves lapse in that area.

It goes to show you that determination can pay off!

Now...enter Curve Ball in a few weeks.

Will we have the energy to do it all over again?? Seriously, when I say that all that talking/reading/repeating/explaining/singing is exhausting, I mean it. How will we ever muster the energy to do this all again??

"Yes, CurveBall. That's a spoon. A spoon. Do you see the spoon? You have a blue spoon. We eat with a spoon. Mmmm. Eat! Do you want your spoon? Cary has a spoon. Dean has a spoon, too. Let's hold your spoon. Do you want to read the fun book we read yesterday about the dish running away with the spoon? Let's get the book and read it. Book. Mommy will go get the book. Mommy LOVES to read books. Do you like books?"

Lordhavemercy. I'm tired just thinking about it.

I pray I have the energy, the strength, the wherewithal to do for my ONE child what I did (and continue to do) for the two first-borns.

Which is why I ordered ... two books about that! :-)

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.