The devil is in the shoes

I've had twins now for going on 4 and a half years, and still it never gets old to me to take note of all the ways that two little people -- grown in the same womb, fed the same foods, loved by the same two parents, with the same rules and [pretty much] the same experiences -- can be so diametrically different.

This is a photo I took this morning of Cary's side of the bed (left) and Dean's side of the bed.
I recently asked the children to keep their shoes in their room instead of in the living room shoe basket, so this is the first time they really have shoes in their room. And so today was the first time I really noticed that this is how each boy voluntarily keeps his shoes.

One of these kids is going to make a good college roommate someday. :-)

Listen, having twin infants was hard. Having twin toddlers and pre-schoolers was and sometimes still is very challenging. But I really am so glad I get to have this experience. Watching Cary and Dean grow up into two very different human beings reminds us that our kids are who they are, in spite of our parenting. This is a good thing because, as parents, we all have moments where we are tempted to feel smug about our kids' performance or behavior or character traits - and then judge other parents for theirs. And there are also far too many moments when we beat ourselves up for the same things, and feel jealous of other parents who are obviously much better at this, or worse -- just have better kids! (Guilty -- on both counts.)

Having two children the same age helps us to keep some perspective. Dean isn't helpful and neat because we have meticulously instilled that in him, necessarily, any more than Cary is lazy and the messiest kid on the planet because we don't stay on top of him.

They just are who they are. And both of them - no, all three of my babies -- are just right exactly the way they are.

When the "experts" try to make you feel like your kids will do right if only YOU would do better as a parent -- just think of Cary's and Dean's shoes.

 You're welcome.

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!

The other half of the photo; the other half of my womb

I felt a smidge bad about cutting my Deanie out of the photo from yesterday (in order to show you a picture of my smiling, silly, non-deaf Cary).

So here's a better picture with both of my sweeties in it.

Awww. Hearts and exes and ohs and unicorns!

These pictures make me smile, because -- somewhat matching attire notwithstanding -- something about the photos makes my boys seem more twin-like than usual. I honestly hardly ever think of them as "twins," because they're so uniquely themselves.

And I hate to glorify the alleged "cuteness" of having two $!@*$* babies at the same time, lest some poor unsuspecting parent-to-be ends up with the absolute WRONG idea.

But on occasion, the twin factor inherent in Cary and Dean screams out loud and clear. And those occasions, if I do say so myself, are pretty darn cute.

School photo failure

When the school sent home a note saying picture day was coming up, I scoffed.

I doubted my boys would sufficiently ham it up for school pics. I can never get them to sit still or even look at the camera when I want to take a picture of them. I imagined them looking goofy or irritated or with closed eyes or something.

So I opted to get a a tiny, tiny package of the two of them together and one individual photo/class picture combo.

FAIL!

Look at how great my boys did:

Look at those smiles and happy eyes! Aren't they the handsomest?? And so grown up. Ugh! I can't stand it. Now, I'm annoyed that I didn't get photos of them individually. As a twins Mom, this is an epic, epic fail. Booooo to me.

Who knew school pics could be actually cute?? Oh well. Live and learn.

And just for their sake -- for years from now when they're grown up and want to stroll down memory lane -- here's their class picture, with the names of their friends and teachers.

         Miss Christina, Jeffery, Miles, Avery, Isla, Marcus, Mrs. Toni
 Mackenzie, Dean, Penelope, Onyekachukwu, Esko, Graziella, Autumn, Cary, Janiyah
(Missing: Yusef, Olivia )

P.S. Today, on my way out, Mrs. Toni said "You have some really sweet boys. You really do. You're doing a good job, Mom."

And I decided then and there, I like Mrs. Toni after all. :-)

So I said: "And so are you, Mrs. Toni. So are you."

Packed weekend yet again (vegtivals, trees, music, friends and meltdowns)

Saturday, we went to a festival in my neighborhood, with live music and popcorn and slushies and hula hoops and tons of kids. One little girl recognized C & D from school. She's in the 3s class, and came right up to them, saying, "I know you! You go to my school!!" Cary and Dean looked puzzled and a little bit nervous, but the girl was delightfully cute. Turns out I'd met her mother more than a year ago at Mother Goose on the Loose at our local library. We'd even exchanged phone numbers back then, but never called one another. Isn't that funny? I told her we definitely should link up.

The boys loved the Fall Festival! They still keep asking me about going back to the "vegtival."

 After the festival, we went to a park and climbed a tree.

I still remember when we came to this park when the boys were newish walkers, and they had trouble navigating the ground because of all the roots and sticks strewn about. And now they are attempting to climb the biggest tree at the park!  Wow. This blows my mind.

This was August 2011 at the same park. They could barely walk! I remember being nervous that they were going to trip and kill themselves.

On Sunday, we went to their first music class, and saw a couple with twin girls, Abby and Maya, who we met the day before at the vegtival!!  What a coincidence! Turns out their girls are a month younger than C & D, and they live just a few streets over. So perhaps we'll link up.

(That's two couples I'd like to get to know better. Will I ever link up with them? I don't know. We shall see. Making friends at this age is so...bizarrely hard. It just seems weird to call up people we don't know and say 'Hey! Let's be friends!' But I do want to know more people in my neighborhood. So I'm going to try to get over my reticence. I'll let you know how it goes.)


We also went out to lunch before going to visit my friend Stephanie. This was one of those lunches that goes down in the annals of "Worst Outings Ever."

It started off wonderfully. It was a beautiful day; we sat outside. We ordered food we thought we could eat the bulk of, but keep the boys happy with, too. Turns out, Cary and Dean don't really like fancy grilled cheese sandwiches with apple slices cooked in. Or fancy chicken salad sandwiches with golden raisins. Or butternut squash soup with crabmeat and shrimp. Turns out, they get really mad when it's lunchtime and there's really nothing for them to eat. So that started the shift in the day's happy mood toward Grumpville.

Then, I gave Clair a piece of bread to suck on. She loved, loved LOVED it!

When it was getting close to time to go, I took the soggy chunk of grossness from her to clean her up. She LOST HER EVER-LOVING MIND. We're talking bucking, kicking, screaming, crocodile tears streaming. And it was LOUD. I was shocked!

Then I went to pay for the food at the counter and saw that, as it was a day before Rosh Hashanah, they had samples of kugel. I brought one back to the table for Cary and one for Dean. As we packed up our things, Cary asked for more "macaroni." We told him there was no more and it was time to go. He LOST HIS EVER-LOVING MIND! We're talking screaming, kicking, falling on the ground, crocodile tears streaming. And it was LOUD. I was shocked!

People were giving us the serious stink eye so we tried to hustle on out of there, with Clair in her stroller screaming and Cary in Lester's arms, kicking and screaming. To keep Dean from joining in the meltdown ('cause believe me, he was looking a little left out), I asked him to help me push the stroller. Zealot that he is, Hercules Davis rammed the stroller into the table in front of us. I actually started laughing, because it was just like, "Are you kidding me?"

The people trying to eat at the table were. not. amused. We could not get out of there fast enough.

In other news, Clair has decided that she can't sleep without her pacifier. She wakes up three to four times a night for it. I am exhausted.

And we decided to get a cat. I cannot deal with the mice in Baltimore. And nothing else has worked.

Neither one of us really wants the responsibility of a cat. And I have a bit of an allergy. But I seriously can NOT deal with the mice anymore. Have I said that already? I CANNOT deal.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Day 5: TGIF

As the week winds up, three things are clear:

The boys are still not so sure they love school. But at least they have each other.

Clair is absolutely sure she loves having a little bit of time to herself in the mornings.

And Mommy is happier than she can ever remember that a long weekend is here. One week of school down. (Only a few hundred more to go!)

Daddy's girl

All the trying I have been doing to convince myself that Clair looks like me has been shot to pieces.

By this photo:

 
Hello! These two are more twins than Cary and Dean.
 
Even this picture of me at 2-months-old, that my Mom found on a trip to Boston and texted to me with this message: "YOU = CLAIR!"  -- even this picture can't compare:
 

Yes, this is a Polaroid. Holla

Clair is Lester's baby, through and through. Head shape. Facial expressions. Ears. Eyebrows. Coloring. Set of the mouth.

It's all him.

The only thing she appears to have gotten from me is her social-bee personality. Let's hope she doesn't get in trouble at school for gabbing too much, like I did. :-)

Friends with twins, and rolling Clair

I was supposed to be posting all about Dean, but I have two other short things to say, so I'll save the Dean post till tomorrow.

1) Congratulations to my dear friend Angel on the birth of her HUGE twins last night! I won't steal her thunder by revealing their names or any of the details about the birth here. But I will point out that this amazing woman endured so much to get these two babies fat, healthy and here -- and she (almost) never complained! She is an amazing Mom of two already, and she clearly will be totally killer at being the mother of twins! I'm so happy for her and proud of her and I can't wait to get my hands on those two darling babies! (And Zachary too!)

Hope you're ready to embrace the chaos, girl! :-)


2) Clair has started rolling! But only in her sleep. She started on Friday night, by waking me up in the middle of the night complaining. When I went in to pat her on the back, I found that I could not pat her on the back, because she had flipped over, and was lying in the dark, playing with her feet! She did this again last night and then couldn't fall back to sleep right away, I guess because it was just too exciting, all that rolling!
And she turns herself completely around in the crib, and basically does laps all night long. The girl is full of energy, I tell you. And I love it! Even if it means I am pooped this morning!

Speaking of Clair, I finally got video of her blowing raspberries, but Blogger won't let me upload it! Check back later...

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.

Moving out of the way -- a little too fast

There's a saying among my aunties and Grandmas and their friends about babies and walking.

When a child starts walking, they usually say, in a knowing voice, "Mmmm-hmmm. Getting out of the way for the next one."

Meaning, somehow the child intrinsically knows that Mommy is going to need to free up her arms for a new baby -- either one who is already cooking, or who is soon to be created. So the child starts walking, making carrying him or her around less and less necessary.

This certainly turned out to be true in my case. I found out I was pregnant at the end of June, and Cary and Dean started walking 4th of July weekend. You should have heard the clucking among all my female relatives. Their truism had been proven right again: Cary and Dean were "getting out of the way for the next one."

Since then, they have been making strides toward independence steadily and impressively. They can go up and down stairs on their own, and have even started -- unprompted -- trying to navigate stairs on two feet, instead of on all fours. They are doing much better about using a fork at dinner. They have started saying "poop," and pointing to their diapers, after pooping. (Yes, I know that is closing the barn door after the horses are out, but it shows they are aware of their bodily functions and have a name for them -- one step closer to potty-training.) They understand more and more, and their language skills constantly blow my mind! Cary and Dean both use time-related words like "after" and "almost," which is really advanced (in my opinion), and Cary has started saying things like, "Mommy, too" when he wants me to join in a fun game of twirl around the room until you're so dizzy you fall down, or some such. And Dean said, "Wuv you," to me two nights ago on his way up the stairs for his bath -- without me saying it first or asking him to say it. He just said it. On his own. As Cary blew me kisses. Ummm, color me wrapped around their little chubby fingers! I absolutely swooned. They are amazing.

They've even started doing things that are developmentally appropriate, but scary! Trying to walk down the stairs, instead of crawl, as I mentioned, is one thing. Be still my heart!
But the worst is the running. Oh, the running.

Here's a story for you:

This weekend, I took the boys by myself to my parents' house so Lester could paint Curve Ball's room (the green turned out really pretty and not Mountain Dewy at all!! Yay!) On Sunday, I decided to stop off at my Granddad's house in DC to visit him, since I hardly ever get to see him and he's 96 and lives alone, and loves, loves, loves to see the boys. I pulled up in front of the house, and got the boys out of the car one-by-one. I took their hands to walk them up Granddad's front steps, and they BOTH refused. "Nooooo!" they yelled. "No. No. No!"
No amount of pleading, cajoling or bribing could get them up the porch steps.
So I decided to walk up the steps myself to put all my bags down and I just sucked it up: I was going to have to carry them (as hard as it is for me right now to do that) one-by-one up the steps.
As I turned to come down the steps, both boys took. off. running. I hobbled down the stairs as fast as I could, but not nearly fast enough to prevent both toddlers from running INTO THE STREET!
Granddad lives in the city, not on some suburban cul-de-sac. And they ran, not into the narrow street that Granddad lives on, but into the cross street, a hugely-busy, wide main thoroughfare, that is normally teeming with speeding cars.
My heart literally was pounding out of my chest. I SCREAMED at them to stop, but this - of course - just made them laugh, as they ran down the middle of the street at top speeds, one straight down the middle, the other veering off at an angle.
I honestly thought I was going to lose it.
Me and my big pregnant belly, tired and sluggish and unable to move quickly -- running after these two boys who had somehow gotten super-quick, seemingly overnight! It was horrible.
I finally caught up to them, and had to basically drag them back up the street. They were both fighting me and pulling away; Cary even sat down in the middle of the street at one point. I had to use real force to get them out of the street and onto the sidewalk.
And then, I eventually had to muster the strength to pick them BOTH up at one time, one tucked under my right arm, the other under my left. They kicked and cried and fought against me! It was a real struggle, and one I've honestly never experienced before with them. By the grace of God, I was able to heave and pant and plod my way into my Granddad's house, where I literally dropped them both -- crying and angry -- on the floor.
And then I burst into tears.

Praise God (seriously) that there were NO cars coming down the street in either direction (this is really unheard of). And Praise God neither the boys nor I fell during this scary scene.

Later that night, Lester and I made a joint decision that I can no longer go out by myself with them while a million months pregnant. And I'm fine with that. I don't need a scare like that again anytime soon. Lord knows I don't. Ugh! (Thinking about it now still makes my heart race.)

As I look back on that day, and their ability to RUN away from me, I see that they really are getting bigger, stronger, faster, and more willful and independent. In other words, getting out of the way for the next baby.

I know I'm going to need to focus on Curve Ball when she gets here, and that I'll need them to be big boys who help Mommy, not hinder me, while I'm trying to take care of a wriggly, screaming, needy newborn.

But I have to say: I liked it so much better when Cary and Dean wanted nothing more than to stand right by my side, holding my hand, happily following Mommy's lead.

I know this is natural. And necessary.

But I already miss them. Their little hands in mine. Their baby-ness. Their needing me.

It may be true that they may have to move out of the way for their little sister.

But I wish they didn't have to move so fast -- and so far.

Big day for the Davis boys!

Today, we officially switched the boys from the small room (the nursery) to the bigger room (formerly the guest room).

You can't see from this picture their little bookcase and toybox, and just how roomy it is in there. But take my word for it, it is totally cute and really looks like a little boys' room, even with two cribs and a changing table in it.

Cary and Dean absolutely lurv their big boy room, especially all the newfound floor space to play with their blocks and cars -- but we shall see how they take to it in terms of actually sleeping in it tonight at bedtime.

Naptime for Cary was a total bust. I had to hold him, sniffling on my chest in our bedroom until he conked out and then transfer him to his crib -- which hasn't happened since early, early infancy. (Full disclosure: It was kinda nice, but don't tell him that.)

And then, more big things!!

After dinnertime, as Cary was walking around with his hair all over his head, looking like Kramer from Seinfeld, Lester decided enough was enough -- and cut my baby's hair!! For the first time EVER!

Cary before -- with a volcano of curls on his head:


Cary during -- and not even whimpering about the clippers!! Shocking!!


And just like that, my baby is a big boy, in a big boy room, and with no more baby curls!!

This has all been a bit much for me. I think I'll go to bed early.
Sigh.

Next big thing: Tackling Curve Ball's room! Sometime in January, perhaps?

Outrage day

Yesterday was outrage day for me. Which contributed to (or maybe was helped along by) my lack of Christmas spirit.

First, a friend who is in my Unbalanced Mommies group sent out this article to the bunch of us, with the e-mail subject line: "an article to make u feel guilty about 'cry it out'."

I should have stopped at the headline, but nooo, I read the stupid article. And it was a bunch of bull****. There's one line, for instance, that says that a child who was forced to endure CIO "may spend a lifetime trying to fill the inner emptiness." Inner emptiness? Really??
Which, under normal circumstances would have been merely irritating, but likely forgettable. But this came from someone in my mommy-support-group!! WTF? Why would she send that out to us?
First of all, most of us are hitting the year-and-a-half, 2-year-mark with our kids. Why on Earth would we need to feel guilty about parenting practices from early infancy? Moreover, why on Earth should we feel guilty about ANYTHING we did or didn't do, or do or don't do, as parents? We're all trying our best here, winging it half the time, attempting to raise little people the best way we know how. There is NO room for guilt imposed on us by outsiders. None. We saddle ourselves with enough guilt and anxiety as it is!

Also, up until her e-mail, our support group has been just that: a support group. We encourage one another. We help one another. We do advise one another from time to time, but always with the caveat that none of us really knows what the hell we're doing. But we're all doing a good job! In our own ways. Some stay home, some work part-time, some full-time. Some do daycare; some have in-home sitters; some have relatives to help with the babies. Some of us breastfed, some of us did not. You get the picture. Regardless of our parenting choices, so far, I'd say all our kids are pretty damn awesome. And isn't that the true barometer?

Anyway, most importantly, in our Mommy group, the one thing we never, ever do is judge. Ever.
There's enough judgment in this world, especially where women are concerned. I choose to surround myself with people who would rather lift me up than tear me down. So I was HOT about that e-mail. HOT, do you hear me?

One Mommy-group friend told me she just ignored it. And another -- the woman who invited the rogue e-mailer into our group -- said she was also offended but was trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps she meant to send the article sarcastically? Like, "check out this bull****?" Perhaps. Who knows. So she said she would find out. And that meant I could not send the e-mailer a flaming response. So I just raged on the inside. Grrrrrrrrrr!

Then, later on in the afternoon, my sister dragged me into this "If I Were a Poor, Black Kid" madness -- which I had been trying to avoid.
I won't even go into the details of it; it's just such a rabbit hole of arrogance and racism and bad grammar.
But suffice it to say that the original commentary by Gene Marks and the online brouhaha that ensued made me think a lot about the fact that people like Marks are representative of the "ruling class" in this country (as evidenced by the fact that his commentary ran in Forbes, not some random blog). And so that means that these are the people who are setting policy in this country. These are the people who will be evaluating and legislating my own three Black kids (two of them Black males, just to add to the pile) some day.
My heart is sick thinking of the prejudice and ignorance and condescension and judgment they will face.
And how, in many cases, I will be powerless to protect them from it.

And so my outrage turned to sadness and worry. (Of course).

I went to bed last night without washing the dinner dishes or cleaning the kitchen or straightening the bedroom which had been torn to pieces by Cary and Dean earlier that morning. That's how wiped I was.

Then, this morning, Cary looked at Dean's pajamas and pointed to the fire truck. He said, "fraratruck!" and then, "Dean!"
I said, "Yes, Dean has a fire truck on his pajamas, baby! That's right!"
Then...he pointed to his own pajamas (he was wearing the same ones) and said, "Fraratruck. Dary!"

He knows he's CARY! He said it!

Then they both commenced to running around upstairs destroying things, all the while making fire truck sounds, "Woo-woo-woo!" and singing made-up, gibberish songs with their loveys on their heads. Dean pointed to a wedding picture of ours and sang, "Ma-Ma, Dah-dee! Ma-Ma, Dah-dee!," and did a little dance. He kissed me good-bye at the front door without me asking!
They both waved to me, happily, and said "Bye-bye, Ma-Ma!"

Inner emptiness my a**!

(I'm over it, really I am! I just had to get that last jab in.)

Baffling toddler questions - a quiz

1. Why is it that the boys repeatedly do all sorts of things Lester and I tell them (multiple times daily) not to do (like push buttons on the Blu-Ray player, play with our iPod and iPhones, pull out plugs, open drawers and cabinets, etc.) -- but when I put them in time-out and say "Now, you must sit still until Mommy says you can get up," they sit there and don't move until Mommy says they can?? If they know to sit still in time-out, they know to listen, right?

2. Why is it that the boys almost never fight over books, trucks or puzzles, but will try to kill each other over toothbrushes, the little cardboard hanger-cover-things that come on dry-cleaner's hangers, plastic baggie clips and other random, inexplicable things?

3. Why is it that Dean has started refusing food, especially at dinnertime -- even some of his favorite dishes -- but if I offer him cottage cheese and fruit, or yogurt, he will devour it and then say, "more pees!" while frantically making the sign for "more" as if he was STARVING?

4. Why is it that the boys and I had a perfectly lovely day on Sunday, hanging out and eating at restaurants and enjoying the day, but when Lester tried to do the same yesterday (he had a day off), he reported back that there were tears, tantrums and general craziness the entire time; and the day was a "disaster? Are toddlers bi-polar?

5. Why do they act like getting their diapers changed is an unnatural crime against humanity?

6. Why is Dean still missing his back teeth? ALL of them? How does he eat orange peels without back teeth? WHY does he eat orange peels?

7. Why do the boys pretend to talk on the phone to my sisters, but when they're actually with my sisters, they refuse to go to them?

8. When will Cary learn to turn books right-side-up? When will Cary learn -- for certain -- that he is, in fact, Cary?

9. When does the screaming and crying about everything end? When? When?! WHEN?!

10. How can the boys listen to "The Ants Go Marching" on repeat 100,000 times in a row and not want to throw themselves off the top of a tall building into burning lava?

Bonus: How is it possible that toddlers are the most inscrutable creatures on the face of the Earth -- and also the most adorable, hysterical and lovable?

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.

No, no, no!! No blessings!!

We've entered the early stages of the "No's".

Call me crazy (because I know this will only get worse) but right now, it's kinda cute.

This morning, Dean woke up in a totally contrary mood. He was fine, mood-wise, as long as you didn't try to kiss him, touch him, or ask him to do something.

I said, "Let's change your diaper, baby." He said, "NO!"

He said he wanted milk; when I gave him milk, he shook his head and said, No!"

When Lester came to say good-bye to him on his way to work, Dean refused to allow a kiss or a hug. "NO!" he said, twisting his body in the chair.

When I was leaving, I tried asking him sweetly if he would give Mommy a kiss good-bye. And of course he said, "No."

And then he sneezed - twice. So I said, "God bless you, baby."

And what do you think Dean said?

"No!"

Ask Moxie! Ask LauraC!

Thanks, LauraC! I had completely forgotten about the wonderfulness that is "Ask Moxie."

She has a SPOT-ON post about 18-month sleep regression and general craziness, that is enlightening and reassuring at every turn. But here's the gist of it, in two sentences that literally brought tears to my (stinging, burning, sleep-deprived) eyes:

Your kid may have a serious, mind-blowingly awful sleep regression at around 18 months. It's not your fault, and it will pass.

And suddenly ... I feel better. It's NOT my fault. And it WILL pass! :-)

Thanks, Moxie. Thanks, LauraC!

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??