On having a girl...

On October 5, Lester and I officially found out we are having a girl. But I have known since well before then. How did I know, you ask?

I'll tell you.

1) My skin has been horrendous this pregnancy. When I was pregnant with Cary and Dean, my skin was flawless.

2) My hair has lost its curl and just hangs limp and lifeless. When I was pregnant with the boys, my hair was thick and lush and just epic! (How come the stretch marks stayed and the glorious hair went away?)

I present to you Exhibit A:
See? Not a curl in sight. I really hope she gives me my curls back when she vacates my uterus.


3) My sugars are OUT OF CONTROL. I am pre-diabetic, so I am always having to watch my carbs. Everyone told me pregnancy makes it worse. But when I was pregnant with the boys, my sugars were better! (Go figure!) The docs said it had to do with having more blood volume, diluting the sugars, which was great! But with this pregnancy, almost from the moment I found out I was having a baby, my sugars have been all over the place, and not in a good way. I've been switched to new meds that make me feel like crap and the doctors are threatening insulin if things don't get better. My sister says, "Your sugars are high because she's so sweet!" Maybe so, but this blood-sugar issue is a major blower.

Take all those things together and I knew - I just knew - this was a girl child inside me, already giving me fits!

So the ultrasound confirmed what I already knew, and made all the random, fleeting thoughts I'd been having about being the mother of a girl come together in a great crash of excitement and fear and love and ambivalence. Like someone was throwing cans of brightly-colored paints onto a canvas in no pattern whatsoever. That's what my brain felt like.

I think about being the mother of a girl much more deeply than I did about being the mother of boys. You'd think it'd be the other way around, as I am a girl (always and forever, in my heart, no matter how old I get). But instead, mothering sons always seemed that it would be simpler. Perhaps it's because so many people said to me, "Boys are easier," and "Boys just love their mommies!" Or maybe it's because, in some evolutionary throwback, I inherently understand how to care for a boy-child. I've had to learn over the years to be the helpmeet and partner to a man -- so I get it. (Sometimes...)

I'm completely making all this up, and there's no scientific or literary basis for any of this. I'm just guessing.
Either way, I have to admit to being just a little bit freaked out by the idea of having a daughter. And there are a million reasons why. Here are the top 3:

1) Girls are so much more complicated than boys! I know this for a fact. From everything from our clothes to our friendships, we just live our lives on a much deeper level, and emotions play a much more prevalent role in our decision-making and behavior. This is not a criticism. I actually like the fact that I am free to express my emotions and feel things. If I were a man, I'd hate to be constrained by society's stupid idea that showing or feeling emotions is somehow wrong.
But emotions, as Spock from Star Trek will attest, are messy, complicated, irrational things. They're hard enough to navigate when they belong to you. I can only imagine how hard it will be to try to help someone else navigate theirs. But...this will be my job! And I will somehow have to learn to do it. (Lord, help me.)

2) Girls bring the drama! Don't judge me for stereotyping. You know it's true! I'm not saying my boys don't have their moments of lapsing into hysterics. But I think this has more to do with being toddlers. Toddlers are, by definition, insane. Being a girl toddler? Ratchet that up a notch or two. Being a girl teenager??! GOD HELP ME. Lester also can be a drama-king at times. And my Dad, honestly, is more sentimental than my Mom in almost every way. So I know there are exceptions and that people are individuals, not ruled, necessarily by gender. But you know exactly what I'm talking about whether you are the parent of a girl or not. Girls = attitude. Girls = (usually) heightened sensitivity. Girls = drama. (Again, Lord help me!)

3) My friend and co-worker Stacey forced me to read "Cinderella Ate My Daughter," and now, of course, I'm freaked out that I am going to do something to make my innocent little daughter believe that beauty is what matters, and then that finding a man because you're beautiful is the prize. All because I put bows in her hair or paint her room a sweet shade of pink or -- sin of all sins -- buy her a doll or let her watch "The Little Mermaid"!! (Cue the scary music)...
I am all for women's rights and equality for all. But I have never been a RAGING feminist, and by that I mean, I happen to like having my door opened for me, and having Lester carry the suitcases. I also hate taking the trash out and I will not mow the lawn so long as there is a teenager in need of $10 to do it for me. It doesn't grate my nerves when my boss calls me "sweetheart" as long as I keep getting plum assignments and good bonuses at the end of the year.

But I suppose my parents did raise me so that I can carry suitcases and take out the trash or even put together Ikea furniture, if I want to or need to. (In fact, I lived by myself from college until I got married, so I had to do all those things!) I am not some helpless twit. I am smart, ambitious and hard-working. I can (usually) figure things out when I need to. I consider myself to be an attractive person, but that is not what defines me. I am a good friend to people; I am a good Mom and a good wife. I am compassionate and empathetic. I am conscientious, responsible and capable. I am funny. I am kick-ASS at Scrabble! I am a voracious reader. I enjoy a good debate (and not only about the merits of "Teen Mom" or "The Real Housewives." Heck, I just had a good debate with folks about the recent New York magazine article about women over 50 giving birth. THAT was interesting.) I am cooperative, but not a pushover. I enjoy new challenges. I am, when I want to be, an interesting person. I am beautiful because I am a child of God. But I am not what I look like on the outside.

I say all that to say that I turned out pretty OK (I think) and I had Barbies and dresses and hair bows galore. My Dad called me his "Little Princess" even on the day I got married to Lester at 34 years old. But that darn "Cinderella" book -- and Stacey's indignance about the "pinkification" of society's girls -- makes me wonder if I'll be able to do the same for my own daughter.

I want her to be all the good things I am and way, way more! I want her to not be afraid of math (not my strong suit) and not care if people think she's overweight (working on that over here, thanks). I want her to enjoy the company of men, but not NEED their approval. (And not tooooo many men. Ahem.)
I want her to be as comfortable in cleats as she is in strappy sandals. I want her to want to dissect the bugs that I shriek at when I see them in the basement. I want her to fit right in with her rough-and-tumble brothers, but not be too self-conscious to say, "That hurts!" or "No thanks. I'd rather play Barbies."

In short, I feel like I want so much for my daughter that I'm already putting pressure on her.
(Great, I'm tearing up now...Stupid pregnancy hormones!)

Smart and funny, strong and sweet, empathetic and kick-ass, ambitious and family-oriented, pleasant but not "a pleaser," athletic and intellectual, sexually-empowered (when she's 30!), but not sexually-loose or submissive. Capable, responsible, self-sufficient. But not bossy and bitchy and all "I-don't-neeeeed-no-man!" Caring, but not a pushover. Daddy's girl and Mommy's (eventual) best friend.

Am I asking too much? How can one woman (or girl-child) be all these things? And I why do I want all this for her, when I mostly just want my boys to be self-sufficient, smart, responsible, helpful and decent, compassionate human beings. Do I care all that much if they're funny? Not really. Do I care if they're athletic? Not really. (Lester may beg to differ here).

Why are the stakes so much higher for my daughter? This is tough, folks. I am struggling with all these things and she's not even here yet! Geez Louise.

One thing I really want is for us to have an authentic and real relationship. And so I know that I will need to deal with a lot of these ridiculously high expectations for her before she is old enough to have them start messing with her self-esteem and her opinion of me.

I am working on that. I really am.

My mom and I have a good relationship and though she is far from perfect (who among us is?) one thing she never did was make me feel inadequate in any way. If anything, she always made me feel comfortable in my own skin.

Maybe that's what I need to focus on more than anything else. Forget the stupid books and society's demands on girls. Forget my own issues about not being athletic or mathematically-inclined or 100-percent confident in every situation, with all kinds of people, no matter what.

If I can just do what my own Mom (and Dad, for that matter) did -- which is make her feel comfortable being exactly who she is -- I pray to God that she will turn out fine.

Whoever she is in there, stealing all my curls. :-)

I'm a terrible wife!

In my list of important things that happened in my unforeseen-blogging-hiatus, I forgot to add one very, very important thing:

On Oct. 5, Lester and I celebrated 4 blissful years of marriage!!

To celebrate, we took the day off together (folks with young children have to have their dates during the day!) and went to the Baltimore Museum of Art, where we had lunch at Gertrude's, which was deeeeelish!

Apple/pear tart with homemade ice cream. Yum! Yum! And yummmmm!


We also found out -- earlier that morning -- the sex of our newest baby, and so we spent a lot of time at lunch talking about how much has changed in our lives since we first met, started dating and got married.

Here are just a few things that have changed:

• We both left journalism for new, related careers. We're both happy we did.
• We live in the same state! We spent a year long-distance dating when Lester worked at a Florida newspaper and I was at The Sun.
• We own two houses. And neither of them is worth the money we owe on them. Yipppeee!
• Apparently, we like surprises: We went through an emotional year of trying to get pregnant and ended up with twins! Surprise! Then, because we had such a hard time getting pregnant with Cary and Dean, we were shocked in June to find out that we were pregnant again! Surprise!
• We have no disposable income.
• We attend church hardly ever, which is a real concern, but one I hope gets better when our children don't require mid-morning naps.
• We both weigh a little more than we did. Ahem.

And here are a few things that have NOT changed since we started dating, a year and a half before we tied the knot:

• We still order Chinese food just about once-a-week.
• We still are amazed (and very often amused) at how dysfunctional our families can be.
• We still love to watch movies and good TV shows together (whenever we can stay awake that long).
• Lester still cracks jokes that only he thinks are funny and then cracks himself up laughing at them, which then makes me laugh, which then makes him think I thought the original non-funny joke was funny. Which, sadly, perpetuates the joke-telling. (I think Dean has inherited this trait.)
• Lester still is annoyed by the fact that I can never manage to hang my clothes up after I wear them.
• We still have never had a knock-down, drag-out, name-calling, lamp-throwing fight. (I'm very proud of this fact).
• We still enjoy each other's company above just about anyone else's.
• Despite having 2.5 children and very demanding jobs, we still find time for one another and strive to make the other one feel just as important and cherished as we did when we were childless and carefree!
• We still try to remember to put God first in our lives, and to teach our boys to do the same. (Consider: Cary and Dean know to say "Amen!" after we say grace before dinner. And we say goodnight prayers with them every night before bed).
• Marrying Lester is still the best decision I made, aside from deciding to follow God.
• We are still actually, and truly, in love.
• We are even more committed to this marriage and this family than ever before.

And so I say to folks who think that having kids kills the love and romance in a marriage: Psssshaw! Only if you let it.

Happy 4 years, sweetie!

Busy-ness; gratefulness

So much has happened since the last time I was really able to blog (work and other demands proved way too demanding these last few weeks). I'm not even sure how to cover it all, so I'll try to do it in sections.

1. First things first: Lester and I found out we are having a GIRL!!

This really deserves its own post, so I will come back and revisit all my thoughts on having a girl (and believe me, there are a LOT) some time later, when I can give this the time it deserves.
The short of it, though? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!! and also OMG!!!

2. My baby sister got MARRIED!! Tahira is now Mrs. Reggie Holmes! I still can't believe it.

Part of the reason why I was too busy to blog is because I was basically planning her wedding for her. I volunteered to do it, and I enjoyed it, but it was a lot of work and it took up a lot of my evenings. But...I'm so glad I did, because the day turned out so beautifully, and she was so happy! And doesn't she look gorgeous? Congratulations to my little sister, who deserves so much happiness! I love you so much.

And here's the kicker: She's pregnant, too!! Due in March! So we'll be having babies back-to-back. We think she's having a boy. I'll let you know if I'm right.

3. Michelle had a birthday, and "the boys" gave her a coffee mug (she drinks a lot of coffee), and a smock that my friend Renee made for me, using fabric and a pattern I picked out. Michelle loved it! It has pockets all across the bottom so she can throw bottles, toys, stray Cheerios, etc. in them as she's going throughout the day. And it completely covers her front, so she won't ruin her clothes while taking care of 2 (soon to be 3) babies.

Isn't it too cute? She loves teal and cupcakes, so I picked this pattern out just for her. She loves it so much that she says she wants my friend to make her another one that's less cute, so she won't be loathe to get milk and fingerpaints and baby puke all over it. I told her, Michelle, it's a smock. It's supposed to get milk and fingerpaints and baby puke all over it.

4. I took the boys to a pumpkin patch by myself and it was a big mistake. The pumpkin patch itself was a great idea, but the "by myself" part was dumb with a capital STUPID. Also, I forgot the stroller at home, taking dumb-with-a-capital-stupid to the new height of WTF-was-I-thinking??
Dean was in the stinkiest mood I think I have ever seen him and he wanted me to hold him three-quarters of the time we were there, despite all the children, the fun things to do and see, and the general awesomeness of the farm.
(Have I mentioned that I am 5 months pregnant and Dean weighs a zillion pounds? Please remember this when I am complaining about back problems as an old lady).
And I need to point out again for emphasis that I did NOT have a stroller. I'll let you imagine what that meant.

Somehow, I have no idea how, I managed to get a couple of fairly decent pictures.

Cary was ENTRANCED by the tractors which were pulling folks who paid extra for hayrides (We're a little young, I think, for those. Maybe next year). He must've said "truck!" 8,001 times.


Surprisingly, Dean actually enjoyed feeding the goats grass! He was afraid of the goats at the zoo, so it could be that the fence between them at the pumpkin farm made him feel more comfortable. Also, Dean LOVES to eat, so it could be that he thought he and the goats were kindred spirits.


You can't tell from Dean and Cary's non-smiling faces (seriously, why can't I EVER get a picture a my children smiling? Why? Why? WHY?!) but the boys had a ball in the pumpkin patch, picking up little toddler-sized pumpkins and lining them up.

This is my attempt at "setting up" a shot. Sigh.


And here's Dean, who looks less-than-thrilled with his pumpkin choice, but honestly, this and the goats were the only things he would tolerate NOT being in my arms for.


At the farm, I met up with my friend Stacey and her son Hugo, and my friend David and his wife Stephanie and their son Dylan. They were SO much help to me, I can't even tell you. They let me use their strollers while their (much more agreeable children) wandered around smiling and giggling. They held Cary's hand while we walked, to try to prevent him from wandering off to various places. Then, they rounded up Cary from the various places he wandered off to. They offered snacks and love to my screaming, snotting Deanie (to no avail). They didn't make me feel like the world's worst mother for forgetting the stroller at a friggin' gazillion-acre farm, and they didn't seem to be irritated by Dean's rotten attitude.
I must say, I love my friends!

5. In between all these other things:

• I went to a girls' dinner at my friend Shreya's house, and stuffed myself silly with her husband's fantastic cooking!
• I finished a ton of heavy-hitter projects at work.
• I turned in waiting list applications for Cary and Dean at the pre-school around the corner that Lester and I like (pray for us folks. It's a small class and a long waiting list).
• I culled my drawers of summer clothes and clothes I will likely never, ever fit again. I bought more maternity clothes (booo!)
• I thought Lester and I had decided on a name for our baby girl, but now I'm really not so sure.
• I cooked and cleaned and grocery shopped and picked up toys and bathed babies and read 1 million stories and attempted to discipline my maniac children (not going so well, people) and fell asleep at night so exhausted, I can't even tell you.
• I completely lost control of my blood sugars, so now I'm on new meds that make me have outrageous sugar lows. One night I woke up and could barely move, I was so weak. Lester had to run and get me orange juice and cereal and then turkey meatballs (for the protein). The doctors are threatening to put me on insulin, but I am really nervous about that. So pray for me some more, folks, that I can get this right.

All in all, it's been an incredibly busy time, but I'm not complaining. I've been very happily busy. And I'm grateful to God that I have friends, family, a good job and people to care for -- all taking up my time.

(But....ummm God, if it's not too much trouble, could you squeeze a nap in for me sometime soon? Thanks!)

No need for an Amber Alert!

I am still alive!

Work has been inSANE, and in between a zillion projects all coming due at the same time, I was helping to plan my sister's wedding. Which happened yesterday. (Yay! Congrats to the new Mrs. Holmes!)

I don't have time to blog today either, sadly, because I'm taking the boys to the pumpkin farm (excited!!) and then I have a girls' dinner tonight at 6, which I'm really excited about, too, because this friend has her husband do all the cooking and serving for her bunch of GFs, and he is a GREAT cook. He even wears a little chef's hat! So sweet.

So while C & D nap, I need to get everything prepared for the full day. (Boy, how I wish I could sneak in a little nap, too. I am pooped!)

I think things will ease up at work next week considerably, so if I don't have time to blog tomorrow (we have an open house at a pre-school to attend), I'll definitely be back in the saddle on Monday.

From babies to big boys

I have been thinking about my visit to Port Discovery and Beth and her boys, William and Seth.

I couldn't help but marvel while we were there together at how well Seth was speaking, and how tall William is, and how they both had complicated things they thought about and then articulated, and good grief -- they are not babies! They are boys.

Sometimes, it's hard for me to imagine that being Cary and Dean one day, but I know it will happen in the blink of an eye (or so everyone tells me). When I see Beth and her two boys, it seems so wonderful to have two little people to hang out with and enjoy, as opposed to two little babies to supervise and enjoy (in a different way). But then I get a phone call like the one I got yesterday that gives me pause.

Kristie, the physical therapist who has been seeing the boys since Cary was a teeny, tiny thing, called to tell me that my boys are doing so well, they don't need her anymore. In fact, she confessed that they haven't really needed her for quite some time, but that she just liked them so much, she kept coming back. But now, she can no longer justify the visits (this is a free program) especially since for months now, her reports about the boys have been glowing. Someone above her was bound to pull the plug if she didn't. And there are children who really do need her, which I understand, so I (reluctantly) agreed that my boys' time with Kristie was over.

I love hearing that my boys are wonderful -- of course I do. And I love hearing that they no longer need physical therapy. But somehow, this all reminds me that they are growing up and growing out of phases.

They were preemies who needed a little bit of extra help with low-muscle tone (Cary) and a slight bit of high muscle tone (Dean). They are now toddlers who can jump and climb and move my dining room chairs into my living room (over and over and over again).

They were tiny 4 lb. babies who needed me for everything. They've now almost completely outgrown their 18-month pajamas, and balk if I cut up their banana instead of letting them just bite it, like big boys.

It's amazing to watch two people grow. It's literally mind-blowing, and beautiful and bittersweet.

I watch them do things like this:



And I think -- simultaneously -- "Where did these silly, silly babies learn to put their loveys on their heads??" and "One day they'll be big boys who won't toddle around in footie pajamas with loveys on their heads, babbling incoherently!"

And I want to laugh and cry all at the same time.

I wonder if Beth thinks about these things, or LauraC., or my friends Angel and Kelly and Neelofer and Stacey. Does my sister Tahira think them about Russy, who is growing so tall, I can't stand it. Did my Mom ever think them about me?

Am I just overly-introspective? I mean, sheesh, people grow up, right? I'd be miserable if Cary and Dean stayed in diapers their whole lives! And threw their dinner on the floor at 17! Or cried and whined because it was 5:30 p.m., so what else is there to do?!

But I wouldn't be too, too mad -- if I'm being honest -- if they toddled with padded feet just a little longer. And held on to those loveys just a little longer. Whether on their heads, or clasped in their hands while they sweetly sleep, those loveys tell me my babies are still babies.

For just a little while longer.

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!

My day is made!

Michelle called me just now and while we were talking, Dean said, "Hi Ma-Ma!"

A sentence!

Directed at me!

:-)

And today he sang "Happy Birthday" (sorta) to Lester! My child is a genius! And my day is MADE!

But we stopped buying paper plates and napkins!

One thing I'd like to teach my boys (of many, many things) is about food sustainability.
I want them to make better choices about eating than I have most of my life.
I want them to understand where real food comes from (not the grocery store or the corner store or the Chick-fil-a).
I want them to know that without farms and farmers there is no food, so we should support local farms and farmers, Farmer's markets and food sustainability efforts of all kinds.
I want them to respect and care for the Earth.
I want them to be producers of some kind, and not just consumers.

To that end, I figured Lester and I ought to start modeling some of that behavior.

Don't get me wrong. We will never, ever be organic, composting-with-worms, vegan backyard farmers. But we can take some baby steps toward being better.

So when the Green School asked if I wanted to be a neighborhood porch farmer, I readily agreed. It seemed easy. All I had to do was water and nurture a pot of small plants on my front porch for the summer. By the fall, I should have had a pot of tomatoes, cucumber, chocolate peppers and some kind of eggplant.

I was psyched!!

Here's what came of my farming:


That's. IT.

(OK, earlier in the summer, we did have three yellow cherry tomatoes, which were incredibly sweet and delicious! Lester fed two of them to Cary and Dean. We ate the final one.)

Take a look at that sad, sad "garden." That scythe looking thing is supposed to be a pepper, people. Not a jalapeno pepper; a fat, roundish, delicious pepper pepper! And it's supposed to be brown. Hence, the chocolate.

And the eggplant was supposed to have at least 5 or 6 brothers and sisters. Sigh.

This urban farming is harder than I thought.

Obsessions

Cary is obsessed with lawnmowers.

Obsessed!

He can hear one a mile away, and he'll stop what he's doing, go to the front door and search for it, all the while saying "mah-mow-uh" over and over and over and over and over and over and...you get the picture. He wakes up asking us about lawnmowers. He goes to bed saying the word.

But he has taken his love of lawnmowers to a level that I think shows how developmentally ahead of the curve he is. Yesterday, he took his fork at dinner, ran it along his highchair tray, and said "mah-mow-uh," and then made a rumbling noise!

Imaginative play at 16 months old?! Hello! My child is a genius!

(See this article, which includes this line: The transition to imaginative play usually comes during the toddler years, around the age of 3.)

He did the same thing in the tub last night, dragging a foam tub letter through the water, saying "mah-mow-uh" and rumbling. I am very impressed.

Meanwhile, Dean is obsessed with the Wild Things in "Where the Wild Things Are." He LOVES when I enact the part where they roar their terrible roars and gnash their terrible teeth, roll their terrible eyes and show their terrible claws. He loves the roaring part most of all.

(Sidenote: Once, in the car, Dean wanted me to do the roaring, so I did. Cary misinterpreted the roaring as the grumbling of a lawnmower, and of course began to look frantically around for the garden tool, while saying loudly, "MAH-MOW-UH!!!" over and over and over. Sigh.)

Dean loves those Wild Things so much, I have not thought a thing about roaring and gnashing and showing my claws. But last night, my textbook sleeper awoke in the night, as if he were afraid, and refused to go back to sleep. (This is unheard of. The FEW times he's ever awakened in the night, he's always gone right back to sleep after being given his lovey and his blanket).
We ended up bringing him into our bed, as we were afraid he'd wake up Prince Lightsleeper.
This was a disastrous move, as Dean has no idea what to do in our bed (he's never there!) so he tossed and turned, stroked my nose, re-situated Lovey the Puppy a thousand times, hummed, rolled back and forth on the pillows, and just generally kept us awake and uncomfortable for two, two-and-a-half hours.

At 4-ish, Lester put him back in his own bed, and he slept soundly.

But I can't help but think that he had a bad dream about Wild Things gnashing, clawing and roaring at him.

What do you think? Can babies be afraid of things this early? I haven't introduced the Wild Things as something to be afraid of, so where would he get that from?

I would hate to have to lay off the book for awhile. But maybe I should?

We need our sleep, but mostly I just hate the thought of my sweetie lying in the dark afraid of wild beasts saying, "We'll eat you up!" :-(

Cooler weather; better behaviors

Fall has fallen (sorta) here, and we had to pull out the boys' long-sleeved shirts and hoodies.

The boys are most fascinated with their socks, because they haven't seen them in many months -- possibly before they had a real word for "socks" -- and so they keep touching them and pulling on them and saying, "doc," "doc," over and over. They also want them off as soon as they get home and get their little shoes off. I think they are just not used to having their feet quite so warm.

I do have to say, as cute as my sweeties are in their swim trunks, I love, love, love how adorable they look in sweaters. Case in point:

I could NOT get them to stand in the same frame at the same time, so you can barely see Cary in his cute little V-neck, but take it from me, it was cute, cute, cute! And Dean in this striped number just makes me all melty. So handsome! He looks like a little BOY!

(Ummm, this is a horrible photo of me. Please ignore the scrinchy-face woman in the middle of the adorable boys. Thanks.)

This photo was taken (after many failed attempts to take their picture) at a birthday party we went to for a friend whose son turned 1 during Hurricane Irene. The party was inexplicably from 5 to 8 p.m. and we were concerned that having them out at that time of night would be disastrous. But the boys did great! They loved walking around, moving furniture and playing with the kids in the room. Even Dean!! He was totally cute playing peek-a-boo with a girl about 8 or 9, even though she was nowhere near us! Shocking!

Cary was the star of the show, of course, going around "talking" a mile a minute and being all up in the beeswax.

We left after 7 (yikes!) And there were no tears!

By the time we got home and got them undressed and ready for bed, there was some whiny protesting, just because they were overtired. But it was manageable and not nails-on-a-chalkboard nerve-wracking as it can be when they really get going.

Then, Sunday, I hosted bookclub at my house, complete with cooking four quiches! (Check me out!) Lester took the boys to D.C. to see his aunt so I could have a kid-free house with my lovely bookclub ladies.
And guess what? No craziness! They drove to D.C., hung out with his family, came back in one piece, and Lester said there were no meltdowns! Cary whined a bit in the car on the way home, but we expect that. And we played some when they came home, then fed them dinner, and got them bathed and in bed on time. All the while -- they were totally pleasant! YES!

Dear God of All Things Pleasant Baby Related,

I could use more of these kind of weekends.

Thanks,

Tanika

(And as Cary would say, after someone sneezes, "Amen!")

They are just babies

My boys had been crazy with a capital K for days on end.
I was ready to throw myself from the roof of my house.
Seriously, I had a couple days where I went to bed thinking, "Did I do something wrong already? Am I a bad mother? Why are my children so ill-behaved? Am I too permissive? Do I not give enough discipline (whatever that is at this age) along with all my love? Why are other people's children so agreeable?"

Finally, I confided in a friend at work. I was worried about talking to anyone about it, for fear people would judge me or my kids or use my worry to pat themselves on the back for the "AWESOME" jobs they're doing with their own angel children. I also really didn't want to hear the pat answers about how they're just babies and blah blah blah.

But the very day I confided in my friend, when I got home that night (a solo Mommy night for me) the boys were just lovely!! I mean textbook wonderful. No screaming incessantly; no unreasonable demands to be held and then put down and then held and then put down and on an on and so forth. They ate their dinner and giggled adorably over and over when I said "beeeeans!" (Who knew beans were so funny?) They played sweetly in the bathtub; they took their bottles and went to bed. They were lovey and laughy and all-around great.

So I guess the thing of it is: They ARE just babies.

Whether I wanted to hear it or not.

Odds and ends

Gosh, it's getting to be that I am only managing to blog about once a week. That is not good. What is going to happen when baby No. 3 gets here?

I have got to find a dedicated time of day that I blog, or else I can see this dwindling down to the point of irrelevancy, and that is not what I want.

When so much time passes, I find I don't have a clear single thought to share, but rather a hodge-podge. So forgive the stream of consciousness:

• This weekend, the boys, Lester and I took a walk to a day care center opening up in an adjoining neighborhood. The center was having an Open House and when we walked in it looked bright and cheerful, but not one adult -- not one -- addressed the boys or even asked us their names, ages or anything. They seemed to be nice folks, but that was enough to turn me off completely.
• So we are going to keep looking for other sites, just in case we don't make it into the pre-school we want to send the boys to when they turn 2. The school, which is also in walking distance, requires that you sign up in October for the following school year, and you get put on a waiting list until February when they announce who made it in. It's a lottery system, so despite the fact that I intend to get our applications in the very day they open up registration, it's totally out of my control as to whether they get in or not. It is quite stressful having things out of my control like that. Did I mention I'm a tiny bit Type A?
• If we do get in, we'd only send the boys half days, so that Michelle can have a tiny bit of a break during the day, as opposed to having all three kids all day long. As it is, she'll have all three if someone is sick and can't attend school, and she'll have the whole brood in the summers as well, until the boys are old enough to go to summer camp. So if we can make her life a bit easier during the school year, we really want to try. Especially since we can't afford to pay her the millions she's worth.
• I tried on maternity clothes this weekend at Forever 21. Why did I do that? Note to self: Never, EVER do that again.
• The boys are saying more and more words, or making the syllable sounds for others. It's incredible how many things they say these days. And they can say (or attempt to say) really big words like, "blueberry," "strawberry," "umbrella," "lawnmower," and "watermelon." (Although many times they sound more like "buh-buh-ruh," "rah-reh-ree," "buh-berra" "mah-mow-wah" and "mal-meh-en.")
• Dean is signing "more" like a madman, even when it doesn't really apply. It's like he thinks "more" is the magic word that means, "Get me this thing that I want; do this thing that I want you to do. Right now. Make it happen." And Cary talks incessantly. I'm so glad my boys seem verbal, which I hope translates into big vocabularies and a love of words and language. But sheesh -- I could use some quiet time! And can someone please tell Cary how to use his inside voice? All my attempts are failing miserably.
• I have found out in the past month that three of my friends are also pregnant! One is two weeks behind me; one is five weeks behind me and one is about eight weeks behind me. I'm so excited to have buddies! But, of course, all of my pregnant friends only have one baby right now, so they'll be going from one to two, whereas Lester and I are going from two to three. What were we thinking????
• Our car seats came in. Now we have to figure out how to install those things. And then get them in, and get our car covers in, not necessarily in that order. Then we have to find some donated car seats to keep in Michelle's car. 'Cause we are NOT buying two more seats. No way, Jose.
• The boys turned 16 months on Sept. 11 -- ten years after the horrific terrorist attacks that shook our nation and left so many lives forever altered. The day was a bittersweet one, as I spent a lot of time reading and listening to tributes in the paper and on NPR. I was in tears so much of the day, thinking about the people who lost their lives and the families who have had to find a way to get through life day after day for 10 years. But at the same time, I was celebrating my boys, who are getting bigger and smarter and more and more awesome every day.
• It was just a reminder that there is so much in the world to lament -- but also so much to be thankful for.

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.

The Day the Earth Shook and the Boys Were Calm

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

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

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

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

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

Here we are, Mommy!!! :-)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of pools and teeth and babies who cling

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

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

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

So here are the results of that lovely excursion:






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

Yes, that is Dean trying to drink the water.

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

NOT!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adventures in Baltimore

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

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

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

Here are the things we encountered on our short walk:

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

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

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

15-month-checkups

The boys had their 15-month appts. today.

Here's the stats:

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

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

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

Couple worrisome things:

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

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

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

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

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

Pray for us.

Weekend at Storyville

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

It worked like a charm! See for yourself!


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

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


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


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

"Babies" to kiss!!

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


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

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



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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy 15-months, babies!

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

Seriously -- how did this happen!?

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

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

More later.

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

Twin Twilight Zone or Why I Must Be Catnip

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guess I'll have to wait and see.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A black eye? Lordie.

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

A good weekend, both out and in

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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