Update on the crazy kitty

Sara has now been a part of our family for two weeks and four days.

In that time, we have learned that:

1. I am terribly allergic to her. :-(  She makes my eyes all itchy and watery and my nose stuffy and my throat tight. It's really, really frustrating, because it makes me not want her around me. But it is really hard to keep her away because...

2. She is the sweetest, most affectionate, most playful, most social kitty I have ever known. She loves being petted, rubbed, stroked and played with. She wants to be in whatever room we're all in. She follows us around like a puppy. She wants to sleep in my room, on the end of my bed, and cries if I shut her out.  She acts like she is on a perpetual catnip high: She jumps, rolls, pounces, darts, bats at our feet from under the bed, hides around corners and attacks our legs when we walk by. She is hilariously cute and funny, but also a little bit irritating (just being honest) because she is ALWAYS under foot. We don't get a break from her! I'm like, seriously, can you occasionally hide under the sofa like all the other cats in the world? Sheesh.

She is especially cute when she hides in shopping bags or barricades herself in packing boxes. This box has the kids' Halloween costumes, which makes Dean very agitated: "Mommy! Mommy! Sara is on my Halloween!!"

3. Cary loves her, and always wants to play with her. She completely CRACKS him up! Especially when she is darting around, jumping, rolling, pouncing, chasing her tail or batting, swiping and nipping at him. (He doesn't always love being nipped and scratched, but he's fairly good-natured about it.) Sara is like a celebrity to him. When he comes home, he first looks for her. And when she comes in a room, he lights up and coos, "Hiiiiiii, Sarrrrrra! Hiiiiiiii!" He totally harasses that poor kitty, who likes the attention 99-percent of the time, except when she's trying to catnap on our living room arm chair.

4. Dean is sorta interested in her, but still mostly freaked out by all her darting around, jumping, rolling, pouncing, chasing her tail and batting, swiping and nipping at him. He mostly enjoys correcting and disciplining Sara. "No Sara! No. Don't get me! Stop it!" He also wants to know where she is at all times, but I think it is just so that he can know not to be wherever she might be lying in wait to pounce.

5. Clair adores Sara, but we're afraid Sara might think Clair is another kitty friend, especially since she crawls around on all fours, just like she does. She is constantly pouncing on poor unsuspecting Clair, and nipping at her little chubby fists. Clair, to her credit, has not yet cried, but she does look very confused and slightly put-out at being "attacked" by her kitty-love-interest. And I am desperately trying to teach Sara -- with a spray bottle at the ready -- that you do NOT, under any circumstances, bite the baby! Even if she is deliciously cute.

Long and full three-day weekend

Just when I think our weekends couldn't get any more packed, we went and had an extra day off. Which should have meant a day of rest, but instead meant a day of more things to do! Hooray!

Here's how the weekend went down.

Saturday, I took Sara to the vet and discovered she still has an upper respiratory thing, so I have to give her medicine twice a day from a dropper. That has not been going well. So I've just been putting it in her food, and hoping that will do the trick, because homegirl was NOT having me putting things in her mouth. No sirree.

Then, we went to visit Lester's Aunt Tootie and then to my Mom's house to bring her cupcakes for her birthday! As usual, the boys had a fabulous time running around with their cousins, eating sweets and being spoiled rotten.

There were so many cousins at Mom's house, the boys had to eat their ice cream and cupcakes on the floor.

Sunday, I took the boys to music class and then later we all went to visit our friends Doug and Denise. Denise is expecting a baby in February -- her third. She was sorta freaking out about it, in the same way I was when I found out I was carrying a third. But I don't feel too bad for her because her oldest is 8 and can do this:

Perry, making her own sandwich! And making one for her 5-year-old brother too!

Perry, her daughter, will be so much help to her. It'll be like having a third parent.

After the boys' nap, we went to our friends Antwyne and Mari's house for dinner. Their son Antony will be 3 in January, so the three boys are close in age and had tons of fun making ridiculous amounts of noise and refusing to eat.

It was impossible to get a picture of all three boys looking at the camera. They were in perpetual motion the entire night. And boy was it loud.

Monday, Columbus Day, Lester and I both had off. Lester decided to go in to work to finish some things, and I had plans to meet my friend Kelly and her daughter Naomi at the pumpkin farm.

The Pumpkin Patch Kids, starring: Naomi, Dean and Cary. Doesn't this look like their album cover?

Note: Kelly is also expecting a baby in February! Hooray for February babies! (Where were all these babies when I was preggo with Clair? She could have a bunch of friends all her same age!)

Unfortunately, the weather was crappy, crappy and I didn't dress myself or the boys properly (this is becoming a theme) so Dean was whiny ("Mommy, I am cooooold!") and the cold I was pretending wasn't actually coming got fueled by the chilly rain, so now I'm a coughing, sniffling, headachey, can barely breathe mess.

BUT...the good news is, unlike at Russy's birthday party, this time the boys actually wanted to go on the hay ride! And so here we are, riding and having a fabulous time. Can't you tell?

"Mommy, I like the tractor," they said over and over and OVER.

After the cold, drizzly day at the farm, and a quick lunch at the mall, I came home, put the boys down for a nap and promptly crawled under the covers myself.

Turns out, I could have stayed in bed all day if I had wanted to, because guess what? I realized after we got home that the boys actually HAD SCHOOL YESTERDAY! (Smacks forehead!)

I'm still getting used to the idea of my 2-year-olds having a schedule different than my own. It never even occurred to me that they'd have school on a day I was off. Whoops!

But we actually had a lot of fun, despite the rain. We fed sheep, rode on the hayride, picked pumpkins (one for Clair, too), hung out with Naomi -- who is so super cute! -- got muddy and ate cookies (not necessarily in that order).

 AND, the best thing is, I can cross "go on a hayride" off the boys' Synapse Checklist!


 Y'all know how I love synapses! Hooray!

An anniversary story

Once upon a time, this little girl:

 Met and fell in love with this little boy:

They were just a little bit older than those photos suggest when they met, which is why they were able to go out on a first date to a restaurant that sold amazing sangria. Two pitchers of amazing sangria later, a lot of this happened:

Then, a year and a half later, -- on this very day in 2007 -- this happened:

Two and half years after that, THIS happened:

 And not quite two years later, THIS happened:

And now, the little girl and the little boy have achy backs and slightly-paunchy bellies and the beginnings of bags under their eyes from lack of sleep.

But they are the happiest they have ever been, and thank God every single day for bringing them together.  It's busy; it's noisy. The house is messy and the bank accounts are lean. But this has been, hands down, the most fun and fulfilling five years of their lives.

Happy Anniversary to my friend and partner-in-fun, Lester "LDiddy" Davis.

May we continue to live happily ever after!

Regressive Clair/regressive parenting

I either learned or was reminded of some very important things last night:

1. When you put it out into the world that you want to be able to spend more time with your baby daughter -- without being specific about how and when you'd like to spend more time with your baby daughter -- your words will likely come back to bite you in the butt.

2. There is such a thing as 8-9 month sleep regression. It has a lot to do with learning to crawl and other developmental things. And even though Clair is only 7.5 months old, we have all seen that she enjoys hitting her milestones early.

3. Our joint decision to teach our children how to sleep by letting them "work it out" apparently only applied to our double sons, not our single daughter. And when confronted about this inequity, my husband becomes an alien, sleeping half the night on the couch with our sleep-regressing daughter, because "it hurts him to hear her cry."

4.  Coffee is a wonderful thing.

I did say I wanted to see more of this face, didn't I? I know. I did.

Missing my baby daughter

Cary and Dean left this morning, and as usual, took their sweet time going down the front stairs, stopping to play with the toys on the porch, touch the pumpkin, meddle with the fall decorations, refuse to have their hands held, etc.

The good news is, all that dawdling gave Clair time to limp-crawl all the way over to the front door, where she got to laugh and shriek, as she watched her big brothers go.

When Sara joined her at the door, I had to break out the iPhone and snap a pic:

Everybody altogether now: Awwwwww!

I love this picture because I have lately been feeling quite sad about how little time I get to spend with my baby daughter. It's the same ole story of being a working Mom and too busy, blah blah blah, but it's made worse by the fact that I have TWO very demanding 2-year-olds who completely set the agenda for what little time I do have in the mornings and evenings. To be honest, most of the one-on-one time I get with Clair is when I'm feeding her at night, just before she drifts off to sleep. It's sweet time, for sure, but it sucks that it's so short.

So looking at this reminds me that -- although she will all-too-soon join the boys on the way out the door every morning -- for now, she is on the inside of this screen door.

And therefore, for a little while longer, she is still my baby. And I WILL find more time for her. I will.

2 and half year check-up, one month early

Cary and Dean had their 2.5 year check-up today, even though they won't technically be 2.5 until November. The doctor wanted to get their flu shots in this month, so we just slipped in a little early.

Here are the stats:

Cary --weighs 26 lbs and is 35.5 inches tall.

Dean -- weighs 30 lbs. and is 37 inches tall.

There's almost nothing else to report.

Dr. Bodnar said to ignore Dean's stutter; it will likely go away. He said Cary's clumsiness stems from his low-muscle-tone issues, which he's had since infancy. Nothing to worry about, he said. We just probably shouldn't bank on his baseball career setting us up for an early retirement. Dean's INSANITY? Nothing to worry about -- all normal. The boys' lack of interest in most meals? Also normal.

He did say we should start potty training now. No more ifs, ands or butts. (Get it? Butts?) So, there's that. (Booooooo.)

And he said our boys' language skills are "spectacular." (Yayyyyy!)

That's it. It was all pretty routine. Even getting their flu shots was uneventful. Dean cried a little; Cary didn't cry at all. They both got Band-aids and life after that was grrrrreat!

Now I'm back at work, and I'm under the gun like crazy. So I'll catch up with you folks lay-tah!

P.S. Do you realize that the fact that they had their 2.5 month check-up means they won't be seen again until they're 3?? THREE??? My preemies!!! Ack!

Picnics, Puffs and Prime Rib fun!

To cap off the celebration of Lester's birthday, we went on a family picnic!

It was cooler than I would have liked and I forgot jackets for the boys, so there was a little bit more "Mommy, I am cold. Mommy, I want my jacket!" than I would have liked.

But honestly, other than that, we had such a great time sitting on the grass, eating cold fried chicken and chicken salad sandwiches (us), Nutella sandwiches (them), chips, fruit and Puffs for Clair!

We found leaves, acorns and even a fat mushroom!

Here he's drinking a juicebox, happily. But ask me about the thermos full of pinot that Dean got ahold of and chugged before we could snatch it from him. Ahem. (Another hashmark in the Badparentingville column!)

 

Clair loves Puffs, but here she's eating leaves. Of course.

Saturday was Clair's first introduction to Puffs. She loves them! (Of course). She still needs help getting them in her mouth, but she can accidentally get them in about 3 out 7 times, which is great because it's just enough reward to keep her trying and trying and trying, thus she is occupied and happy for many, many minutes at a time.

(Note: With this picnic adventure, careful readers will note that we have now crossed one more thing off the boys' Synapse Checklist 2012!

At the picnic, Lester was extremely tired, having been out Thursday night at the football game, and Friday night again with his friend Antwyne (to the casino!!) So he kept saying all day how much he just wanted to go home after the picnic and relax, eat dinner, put the kids to bed earlyish and conk out.

Too bad I had already planned a surprise dinner at The Prime Rib, a super fancy steakhouse in town. Whooops!

But he was a good sport, despite being really pooped, and he didn't whine at all. And, as I suspected, once we got all dressed up, got a few drinks behind us and started eating the soft shell crab, colossal shrimp cocktail, prime rib (him), lobster tail with crab imperial (me), and chocolate mousse cake, he wasn't tired at all anymore!!

We sat down and the waiter said, "Tom and Stephanie Waldron would like to buy your first round of drinks." That's my friend and boss, Tom, and his wife, my friend Stephanie! Isn't that the coolest thing? So here's our first round, thanks to those awesome people!

By Sunday though, we were both tired, with a capital T -- Lester especially so. We went to the boys' music class together, and took Clair, and then went to the Red Canoe for muffins and coffee. We got home around 11:30, gave the boys a half-hearted attempt at lunch, fed Clair and then threw everyone in their beds, and immediately PASSED OUT.

Three hours later, everyone was in a much better mood. We played, watched the football game, ate dinner, put the kids to bed, watched a HORRIBLE movie ("Midnight in Paris" - terrible!) and fell asleep by 10:45.

Now that's my kind of weekend! (Still, I'm so glad Lester's birthday only comes once a year. Whew!)

Peeing with intention

Lester's friend Antwyne got him tickets to the Ravens' game last night for his birthday, so I had kid-duty.

Thankfully, everyone was in a really good mood and there were no incidents to speak of. In fact, we had a lot of fun singing at the dinner table and talking about their friends in class. Dean can pretty much name every single kid in his class, even kids with hard names for a 2-year-old to pronounce like "Graciella."

The highlight of the night, though, was after bathtime, when I was putting the boys' pajamas on. While I had Cary on the changing table, Dean told me he had to go to the potty. I sighed, because I knew if I had to sit with him in the bathroom while he lolly-gagged on the toilet, Cary would be running wild in the bathroom, turning the water on and off, and Clair would be getting restless and fussy and the whole bedtime would be prolonged unnecessarily even though everyone knows Dean DID NOT REALLY HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM!

But I had to take him, because he asked. So I finished up with Cary and then sat Dean on the kid-seat on the toilet. Of course he starts having a heart attack! "No, no, nooooo!" he said, sliding off the toilet.

I sighed some more. Deanie, I said, you said you had to go potty. Do you not have to go now?

"No, no, noooo!" he yelled. "I want to stand up on the stool."

Great, I thought. Not only do I have to stay in here, but now he wants to stand up. Ugh.

But I had to do it, because he asked, and this is how they're teaching them at pre-school.

So I stood him up on the stool, pointed important parts south, and waited and waited. As I suspected, nothing was coming out. This could go on half the night, I thought, sighing some more.

Finally, I told Dean I was leaving to go read a story to Cary and Clair. I told him to stay in here by himself (I emphasized that part) and put his pee-pee in the toilet, knowing full well he'd hate being alone and would call me back very shortly.

I went into the boys' room, closed the door and started loudly reading their current favorite book, "Two-legged, Four-legged, No-legged Rhymes."

I didn't get very far before I heard Dean frantically yelling for me. My plan worked! I knew he wouldn't stay in there too long by himself. I went into the bathroom and said, "Are you finished trying, sweetie? No pee-pee came out? It's OK, you can try tomorrow."

As he furiously shook his head, I noticed the huge smile on his face.

"No Mommy!" he said. "I DID go pee-pee. I put the pee-pee in there!" He pointed to the toilet.

And sure enough, he had! There was pee in the toilet! He was so excited!

I honestly think that this is the first time he's known he had to go, actually asked to go ahead of time, and then been successful at his attempt. All the other times he's peed/pooped in the potty have been because someone (Michelle, most likely) sat him on the potty after a meal and waited.

So this, my friends, is the first intentional peeing!

We did a happy dance, and hugged and shrieked, and he was so ridiculously proud! (Cary saw all the glee and tried to say he had to go pee-pee, too, but I really knew better than that. Whatever, already-diapered-fibbing-child. You missed that window.)

And the best part was when he came back in his room and went straight to Clair, who was sitting on the floor, chewing on a toy, and leaned down to her level and said, "I did it, Clair! I went pee-pee in the toilet! I did it! And I FLUSHED it!" I loved seeing his eyes all sparkly with happiness.

And the award for best ability to keep pee-pee OUT of his diaper goes to: Dean Davis!!

I know that, when it really gets going in earnest, potty-training is going to be a big pain-in-the-arse. Times two.

But I have to say last night was really sweet and satisfying. Never thought I'd ever say that about pee. :-)

Clair takes a stand

Tuesday night, we had to lower the crib mattress in Clair's room. I've observed her pulling up on the crib bar and getting on her knees, but Tuesday when I got home from work, Michelle said she came in to get her up from her afternoon nap and Clair was fully standing in the crib, leaning on the crib bar, giggling like a mad woman.

Clair is 7.5 months. By contrast, please note that we didn't have to lower the crib mattresses for C and D until they were 9 months (Cary) and 9.5 months (Dean). Even if you adjust for their prematurity (5 weeks), she's still ahead of them.

 Does she not know that she is my baby girl? She is supposed to go through this baby-stage SLOWLY. Darnit.


Oh, and just for good measure, please check out this video of Clair's crazy-crawl just ONE DAY after I posted the one of her not getting anywhere:

(Please ignore the room. The couch pillows -- made into an "airplane" -- are piled up by the front door. And I did not notice that Lester's slipper was so gross until AFTER I watched the video. Don't call CPS on me. Thanks.)

Anyway, since this day, she is literally unstoppable. She rolls and "crawls" away from me when I'm changing her diaper, and shrieks with excitement at the fun of it. She gets to corners of rooms and eats things I didn't even know were there. She grabs the cat. She attacks Cary and Dean's Lego buildings. She nearly falls to her death, scurrying to the edge of our bed. She's going to give me a heart attack!

(P.S. Cary and Dean also were about 9/9.5 months when they started doing things that resembled crawling.)

I told you this girl was going to run circles around her brothers. I just didn't know she'd actually be running so early. :-)

In other news, Lester's birthday was a resounding success! He was happy; the kids (stuffed full of cake and ice cream) were happy. And we still have the weekend family picnic to come. So the celebrations continue!

Best part of Daddy's birthday party: Trying to put an entire balloon in my mouth. Yum!

Yay!

Happy Birthday, Lester!

Happy Birthday to this guy:

The best friend, best father, best-looking-advertisement-for-a-well-tailored-suit, best decision I ever made! 

  
I won't say how old he is, but let's just say that the term "Grown 'n Sexy" officially applies to him now (although it's actually applied to him for years).

This morning, Cary and Dean serenaded him with "Happy Birthday to Daddy," standing in the bathroom in their footie pajamas. It was totally adorable and I'm pretty sure it's the best present he could have gotten!

(I say this because we're broke, so there aren't actually any REAL presents. Hopefully, he'll read this blog and be guilt-tripped into feeling immensely grateful for off-key toddler bathroom singing.)

:-)

Happy Birthday, L-Diddy! I love you!

Clair's quirky crawling attempts

I like to move it move it. I like to move it move it!

Of my three children, Clair (as an infant) has been the most energetic and active. She moves even when she sleeps. A LOT.

I get a total upper-arm workout just trying to hold her in my lap.

Clair has been mobile for weeks. She can get almost anywhere she wants to go, using a combination of half-crawling, downward-dog, slithering and rolling.

But lately, she has been trying hard to really, actually crawl.

It's not going well.

Her attempts to crawl are hysterical. Poor thing just can't figure out what to do with her knees. She'll move one knee an inch, and then, instead of moving the other knee, she keeps trying to stand on her feet. She does better on the bed, and when she's got bare legs and feet.

But please check out her funny little half-crawl when she's slipping and sliding along the floors in her sock-feet (I'm having trouble embedding videos for some reason):

Watch video

She is too funny! 

Weekend recap (Father of the Year and new member of the family!)

Highlights from this past weekend (which was packed, as usual):

1. The boys went to the zoo, to music class and to their twin cousins' birthday party. Fun, fun, fun!
2. Lester got deemed "Father of the Year" at the zoo.
3. The Davis family adopted a cat.

Here's the breakdown:

I had to go to a work session from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. for the charter school of which I'm on the board.
Saturday was the same day as the member picnic at the Maryland Zoo. I was sad that the kids wouldn't get to go because there was no way Lester was going to take all three kids by himself to the zoo, right? WRONG. Lester gamely wore Clair in an Ergo and pushed the boys in the double stroller, braving the heat and the crowds to make sure the kids got to go to the zoo.

So while I was doing this:

Writing policy on a beautiful day while my children are at the zoo without me.

The kids were getting to do this:

Giraffes!

Elephants!

Junk food! (Sidenote: Why doesn't Cary know how to eat a hot dog yet?)

I was very impressed with my can-do husband, let me tell you. But not half as impressed, apparently, as ALL THE PEOPLE at the zoo. Lester said he was like a local celebrity, walking around the zoo with twin toddlers and an infant in a carrier. No less than TWO DOZEN people stopped him to marvel at and compliment him, and ooooh and ahhhh over the sight of a man with all of his children! What a concept!

Listen, I was proud of him, too. Taking three small children out by yourself is no small feat. I don't take that lightly. But I know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, if any woman in all of America took all three of her children out somewhere, she'd barely even register with most folks, save a couple people who might say, "Boy, you've sure got your hands full, don'tya?"

Lester thought the whole thing was incredibly funny. He said if ever he needs an ego-boost, he's going to take the kids to the zoo again. We both had a good laugh at that.

And in other news,  I went to the local shelter intending to select a cute, furry little kitten for us to adopt and instead developed the biggest soft spot for a 3-year-old, scruffy old cat who'd been dumped by her owners. Among her many flaws:

• She was pregnant when she came to the shelter, so they had to abort the pregnancy. She seemed a little sad to me.
• She had been recovering from surgery, so wasn't really eating much, making her quite thin. Little bony thing!
• She's sneezy (Poor thing caught a cold in the shelter).
• She's dishwater brown and scraggly. Basically, she looks like an alley cat.

I'm not one of those people who goes around rescuing strays off the street. But being introduced to this poor, sad kitty made me want to bring her home and love on her and fatten her up.

And so now we have a new member of the family, Sara.

Doesn't she look so sad??? 

Originally, we thought we'd try to let the boys name the cat we chose, but I decided not to rename her, since she'd been through enough change.

Since she's been home, she's mostly been hiding in the basement. Everyone at the shelter says we got the sweetest cat ever, and so far, she does seem quite sweet, if a bit shy. Cary is fascinated by her; Dean is a little afraid of her. Every time Sara ventures upstairs, she gets freaked out by the boys' 2-year-old noise level, and runs away. So I'd say we have a ways to go before we're all one big, happy family.

But I hope she likes it at our little house. Yes it's loud. Yes, it's chaotic. No, we have no idea what we're doing. But we are very good at loving, little Sara, so I think, soon enough, you'll feel right at home.

Clair's first civic act!!

Clair took to the streets last night to walk in support of safe neighborhoods!

Take a look at this story in the Sun. See the lady holding the pink coat? See the serious-looking man to the left of her, with the perfectly-knotted tie on? That's Lester. He's pushing a stroller. And in the stroller is Clair!!

Northeast residents take 'solidarity walk' following violence
About 100 residents, city leaders and mayor gather after scientist's shooting



Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake walks with Tony Dawson, past president of the Belair-Edison Community Association, on a "solidarity walk" through the neighborhood. (Baltimore Sun photo by Gene Sweeney Jr. / September 20, 2012)

By Kevin Rector, The Baltimore Sun
September 21, 2012
Residents and city leaders who gathered Thursday night in the Northeast Baltimore neighborhood where a 51-year-old scientist was recently gunned down spoke passionately about taking the streets back from criminals intent on intimidation.
Gathered in the Belair-Edison neighborhood to take a "solidarity walk" after the killing Monday night of Peter Marvit, they spoke of sticking together to confront crime throughout the city.
"We know we cannot let the cowards win, not in this neighborhood, not in any neighborhood in this city," said Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake, telling the 100 or so residents in attendance that they "deserve to live in safe neighborhoods."
The event, organized by local community groups and local City Councilman Brandon Scott, drew a variety of politicians and civic leaders, including several council members, Council President Bernard C. "Jack" Young and state Sen. Nathaniel McFadden. Neighbors walked their dogs and pushed strollers during a short walk around the block.

******
 Awww, my baby's first protest!

In other news, this morning Dean asked me: "Mommy, w-w-w-w-w-w-where's your pe***?!"

He seemed a bit concerned.

I tried to explain to him the key differences between boys and girls, men and ladies, but he lost interest and started playing with the bathroom faucet.

AND...we have clearly turned a corner in the school drop-off situation.

My boys have long stopped the tears and the whining. So I haven't had a heavy heart. But a part of me still wondered about their emotional state when I left.

Well, today, I lingered a little to ask Miss Toni how the boys were doing, and as she was telling me that Dean knows all his shapes and colors (not a surprise) and that Cary can't sit still during circle time (also not a surprise), Cary, who was playing with a toy on the floor with his back to me, yells, "Mommy, go to work!"

He didn't even bother to look up from what he was doing. And then Dean, of course, had to echo him, but at least he gave me the courtesy of a sly smile.

So what did  I do?

I kissed them both and went to work!

Happy Friday!

Proud of our affectionate household

Last night, I had Clair on my lap and the boys were strewn across the couch pillows "reading" to me.

They read "Bark, George," and "Picky Nicky" and "Good Dog, Carl!"

At a certain point, Cary went and got Llama Llama Misses Mama and they took turns "reading" it. Dean, ever the actor, made extremely realistic crying noises when we got to the part where an overwhelmed-by-preschool Llama Llama cried at the snack table. This made Cary decide to do the same when it was his turn to "read."

"A-hee-hee-hee," he said, with his face all scrunched. "Llama Llama wants his Momma!"

Cary's performance was much less impressive than his brother's. But Dean must've been moved, because he reached out, put his arm around Cary and said, "It's OK. It's OK, Cary." And then he kissed him on the cheek.

Cary smiled.

Then, he read the part again (pretend tears and all). This time Dean bear-hugged his brother and they toppled over onto the couch, giggling, while Dean kissed Cary again.

Clair laughed at the spectacle.

Cary caught a glimpse of his laughing sister, and climbed over to me, leaned in and kissed Clair.

Clair laughed some more.

Then Dean moved in for a Clair-kiss. He took two.

She was in heaven! So was I. Eventually, we were all stealing kisses from one another, and laughing. It was fantastic.

Then this morning, Clair was playing on the floor with her toys. After eating his breakfast, Cary came into the living room, sat on the floor next to her and said in a high screechy voice, "Hi Baby Clair. Hiiiiiii! Hello! Hello, Baby Clair. I am eating my vitamin. Hello!"


As we were leaving, Dean made sure to say "Bye-Bye" to his sister, even stopping to wave energetically at her as she sat on the floor. They are constantly making sure not to leave her out. They even say "Bye-Bye Baby Clair" to her empty car seat when we arrive at their school every morning.

I know there will come a time when the three of them will fight like crabs in a barrel and plot against one another mercilessly.

But I can't help but pray that they are building a foundation of love and affection for one another that will survive the teen years and sibling rivalries and 8 million episodes of "He-won't-stop-touching me!!"

I know it is taboo these days to be proud of your kids. Anything you say in the way of pride about their behavior or intellect or personalities gets construed as "bragging," and people are somehow more annoyed by people who are proud of their kids than people who do nothing but complain about them.

But you know what? I am proud that my boys are affectionate with their sister. It makes my heart so glad, I cannot even tell you. I seriously burst with joy when they constantly ask about her and rush to bring her a toy when she cries, or try to talk to her in baby talk or kiss her little cheeks.

And I am proud that they are affectionate (sometimes) with one another. 

I am proud to say that in our house, they have learned to love freely and openly. In fact, they will probably be sick of kisses by the time they're old enough to say so. That makes me tremendously happy.

Many aspects of my kids' personalities and life trajectories I will have absolutely no control over. But at least when it comes to this one thing -- showing them what love and affection looks and feels like -- I am proud of the example Lester and I are setting.

Online class dropout

Remember "Beauty School Dropout?" That song from Grease?

I've been singing that song in my head a lot the last couple days, but with the words "online class" instead of "beauty school."

It's a little pathetic to be this woefully behind on a self-paced, online, non-graded class. But, alas, it has only been two weeks and I am nearly a full week behind. The stress of thinking about how far behind I am is getting to me.

I'm having dreams about being called on in class and not knowing the answers. People who know me will know how such a RARE occurrence would freak me the freak out! I always knew the answers, people! Especially in my humanities courses. Emily Dickinson better reck-a-nize!

Anyway, I think I will "withdraw" from this stress-causing course and let Lester tell me all about it later.  Somehow, he's able to find time to fit it all in. Mad props, Les. I'm not hating. No, not at all.

To make myself feel better about this failure, I decided to write a poem!

Dope
by Tanika Davis

I don't know what I was smokin' when I thought --
I can take a poetry class in the middle of
My Crazy Life --
This ain't Howard --
I'm no hundred-pound Undergrad.
I'm a worker.
A Mother.
A Friend.
A Lover.
A Sister, a daughter, a board member.
A Wife --
It's not my Fault, Walt.
I dwell in Reality, Emily --
Will your elaborate conceits
Change my sheets?
No?
Didn't think so.
And so --
ModPro must go.
I don't know what I was smokin'
When I took on this chore.
But I wish I could get my hands on
Some more.

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.

My visit to Badparentingville

This bad-Mommy-moment brought to you by the couch-destroying Davis children:

This week, my children were happily playing in the living room after I got home from work.
The boys were busy doing, doing, doing and Clair was happily babbling on a blanket, gumming everything in sight.

Lester was working late, so I decided to take advantage of their contentedness to go start getting dinner together. I snuck off into the kitchen.

While preparing the food, I heard the boys yelling "Pillow Mountain!" one of their favorite games. They like to take all the couch pillows, throw them on the floor, and then dive into the mountain headfirst. This can occupy them for an hour or more. It's awesome (even if my couch pillows are now destroyed and dingy).

PILLOW MOUNTAIN!!! So much fun! But wait...someone's missing. Hmmm. Who could it be?

Despite the insanity coming from her brothers as they tossed the pillows onto the floor, Clair was still just playing quietly. "She is such a good baby," I thought. (Heart swells with love and pride...)

Finally, I decided to check on them before they started leaping, to make sure the pillows were arranged safely (occasionally, someone takes a dive off of Pillow Mountain and hits the floor).

And just where was quiet Clair, you ask??

UNDER THE MOUNTAIN OF PILLOWS!!

It hadn't occurred to me that Clair's blanket was right there by the couch -- the very landing spot of all the pillows. It hadn't occurred to me that the boys wouldn't think to avoid smothering their sister when playing Pillow Mountain!

I hastily removed the pillows. Poor Clair had her face buried inside her pink Boppy pillow, and her body completely covered with couch pillows. Thank GOD the boys hadn't quite finished building the mountain and so hadn't started jumping yet!

LORDHAVEMERCY!! Talk about heart-stopping moments in Badparentingville.

All was well, thank God. Clair was actually laughing when I unburied her. She thought being covered in pillows and then uncovered by Mommy was a funny game! And after I moved her and her blanket to a safe spot, I talked to the boys about not burying their baby sister in pillows ever. ever. again.

Could someone please take my passport to Badparentingville away? I really, really don't like it there. 

(And yet I know I'll be back again many times. Sigh.)

On busy-ness

Tonight, I have a work event to attend. Last night, Lester had a City Council hearing to staff. Tuesday night, I had a board meeting. Monday night, Lester had to work late at the City Council meeting. Consequently, neither one of us has been home for dinner at the same time.

Last week, Lester and I started our Coursera Modern and Contemporary Poetry class online. What with poems to close-read, video discussions to watch, forums to participate in, and writing assignments and quizzes coming up, I am already woefully behind.

The boys' music class starts this weekend. My friend Stacey has invited us to the Frederick County fair, since we both missed the state fair this year because of rain. I'm thinking about going, but I also need to meet a friend who has donated clothes for Clair and I told my Dad we'd have a movie date on Saturday, because I never get to spend time with just him anymore, and it's clear in recent phone conversations that he misses me.

We're determined to start visiting churches, including going back to the one we went to on Sunday. Committing to church again will mean a lot of things, not the least of which is more weekend-busyness, and the end to lazy Sundays.

I have started three books recently, all of which are gathering dust on my nightstand, looking forlorn.

Speaking of dust, I won't even begin to talk about the atrocity which is my house. Let's just say this: If a child goes missing somewhere in the country, it's entirely possible he or she might be found in one of the piles of laundry (clean and dirty) that are currently blocking the views of the sun in my house.

Lester and I cuddled up and watched a movie last night together (Ryan Gosling was in it, therefore: good movie) but we somehow can't seem to find time to talk about our yearly or family goals, discuss for the hundredth time what to do about the mouse problem we have (I want to get a cat; Lester is less-than-on-board), or hash out anything that requires us to think hard or make any kind of decision.

Oh, and me finding time to work out, so that I won't look 5-months-pregnant for the REST OF MY LIFE? Ha.

Ha! Ha! And ha!

Yes, we are busy, busy, busy around the Davis household. And I was starting to get into a funk about it. A little bit of "waah, waah, waah...there's never enough time. I'll never get it all together. This blows."

And then I remembered this essay by Anna Quindlen, which a friend sent to me when I was pregnant with the boys. At the time, I had no idea why it made me bawl so:

All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.  
Everything in all the books I once poured over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton., Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, have all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations --what they taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.  
Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2.  
When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there some thing wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China . Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too. 
Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the, 'Remember-When- Mom-Did Hall of Fame.' The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pick up. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, 'What did you get wrong?'. (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?  
But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get onto the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.  
Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.

So what does this essay mean in regards to my current hectic life?

Does it mean we should keep pressing on, scheduling fun things for the boys, working late to keep our careers on an upward trajectory, running, running, running, so we can achieve our goals -- and try harder to enjoythe fullness of our lives? Or does it mean we should all slow down some, take more deep breaths and mental pictures, and continue ignoring the laundry and the mouse problem, while cuddling with my husband at night, trusting that everything else will fall into place without us having to have it all together all the time?

I don't know.

But reading this has thankfully arrested my waah-waah-waah-fest, and made me take a few minutes to put together that Shutterfly photo book for Clair that I've been meaning to do for over a month. 

Life is full. Life is good. Life is short. 

I'll try to remember that more often.

Clair's 6-month-checkup

Clair had her 6-month checkup yesterday.

Lester took her because I had a board meeting, so I don't have all the stats in front of me.

But I remember that she weighs 17 lbs. 9 oz., and her length was like 28 inches or something. The doctor says she's about average for weight, but tall for her age.

How my child is tall, I have no idea, since I am 5-foot-nothin'. But I hope she stays that way. Being petite is not a bad thing. Petite, to me, is 5'4''. My height is just short. And being short kinda sucks.

Just the other day I had to use a butter knife to pull the coffee off the shelf in the office kitchen because my boss insists on putting it on the top shelf, no matter that I've told him I can't reach it up there. And when the stockpile of towels gets low in our bathroom closet, leaving the only clean ones waaaay in the back of a high shelf, I either have to scrounge around for one of the boys' stepstools to get myself a towel, or dry off after a shower with a hand towel. It's actually quite doable to dry off with a hand towel, I've found, but much less efficient.

Needless to say, I want Clair-as-an-adult to not have to stand around shivering while toweling off with a 16' X 30' swath of fabric.

It's the little things, people.

Music, church and wedding weekend!

We had a full (as usual) and good weekend!

We took the boys to a free music class in our area, run by the woman who sings and plays guitar at the sing-along they love so much but haven't been able to go to since I came off of maternity leave.

The boys were sorta lukewarm about the class at first, but warmed up toward the end. Cary even cried when it was over, and said, "I want to go to music class again!"

So we signed them up for a 9-week course. Every Sunday we'll go, and Clair can come too (for free!) if we feel up to bringing her. It starts this weekend and I'm excited. The boys love music so I hope they'll get a lot out of the class.

So cross that off of my list of things I want the boys to do before they turn 3!

Also, Lester and I finally, finally got our butts in gear and made it to visit a church we'd been wanting to check out. The boys were having none of sitting still, so I had to take them to the nursery, where they were having none of being left alone. That meant I heard none of the sermon!

Here they are in the nursery, playing with one of those old-school musical television sets. You know the one that plays "Row Row Row Your Boat" and "Hey Diddle Diddle?" This toy took me back!

But Lester stayed in the sanctuary with Clair and reported back to me. He liked the sermon and seemed to like the Pastor too. We'll go back again next week -- right after music class -- and this time I'll listen to the sermon and Lester will go to the nursery. This way, we'll both get to assess whether we like the church or not.

The civil rights historian Taylor Branch attends this church and he was there on Sunday. I've interviewed him before, but only by phone, so I wanted to go up and introduce myself, but it was too hectic.  Maybe next week.

Saturday night, Lester and I went to the wedding of my brothers' friend Jason. Jason grew up with my brothers since he was in the 2nd grade. I can't remember a weekend that he wasn't sleeping over at our house.  I love him just like he's my own brother and I'm so, so, so, so happy he's found an awesome woman to spend his life with. She is really good for him, and he seems so in love! It's really cute.

The (new) happy couple. The old happy couple. My parents (the even OLDER happy couple). And Lester, posing with the cigars the groom handed out to all the men at the reception. Ain't he suave, y'all? I married well! :-)

We had a GREAT time at the wedding and reception, which were both beautiful and elegant and a lot of fun. There was an open bar and we didn't get home until midnight, and now -- knowing those two things -- aren't you even more impressed that we got up, got ourselves and three kids ready, and went to church on Sunday?

God? See how we're trying? :-)

Lastly, I should mention that my meeting with Miss Toni went tolerably well. Not badly, but not swimmingly either. I think I am just going to resign myself to the fact that she is a really kind, warm and genuine person, who loves kids but is not ever going to be the organized, perky, informative pre-school teacher I'd envisioned in my head.  But as long as my boys seem happy (which is, finally seeming to be the case) it'll all be fine.

And next year, they'll have one of the 3s-class teachers, who are all the way I envisioned! I just have to be patient. Guess I'll work on that virtue in church!

First "No Tears" day!

Hooray!

There was no whining on the ride to school, no whining walking into the building, no whining at the doorway of the classroom and NO TEARS when I left. In fact, Dean refused to even give me a kiss good-bye. And not in a "I'm mad at you for leaving me here" kind of way. More like a "Mom, go to work already!" kind of way. Which was, strangely, kind of nice.

Everything moved so smoothly, I even got to work super early and had to turn off the alarm and start the coffee!! I'm always one of the first ones at work, but I'm not always THE first one at work.

I'm hopeful this is the way things will go from now on. No tears, smooth transitions, get to work early, get my coffee, and quiet time at my desk to read news stories and blog. Whoo-hoo!

Sidenote: I did make an appointment to meet with Miss Toni tomorrow to discuss what I consider to be some significant issues with the way she is reporting on the boys' day. I don't want to go into too much here until after the meeting. So stay tuned. (Pray *I* don't leave the meeting in tears. LOL.)

Meanwhile, I leave you with this musical gem from yesterday:

 
CRACKS ME UP!!!

PicFrame fun

A while back LauraC. introduced me to PicFrame.

Now why'd she go and do a thing like that? I must admit to being a little obsessed with it. I'm pretty sure my parents and sisters have had quite enough of me putting pictures of Clair and/or the boys in various settings into little side-by-side blocks and emailing or texting them, with little captions like, "Look how cute!"

But I can't stop. It's like I have a disease.

One night over the long weekend I spent an hour or more, doing this:

The many expressions of Clair.

The many expressions of Dean.

The same-ish expressions of Cary.

Twin love.

Twin love, Part 2.

Now, c'mon. After seeing those photos put together that way, can you begrudge me my obsession?
I mean, seriously, look how cute!!

:-)

Yeah, I need a hobby.

Labor Day re-cap

We had a really great Labor Day weekend.

We decided not to travel, even as far as my Mom's house, and instead hung around our neck of the woods, seeing friends and eating lots of delicious end-of-summer food.

We saw Mark and Kelly and Naomi!

At one point, Cary and Dean both tried to kiss Naomi. She was not happy about this.

You can't tell in this picture (or in real life even because Kelly's so danged skinny) but she's making a little boyfriend for Clair -- right at this very moment! He's due to arrive on Valentine's Day. Clair's birthday is Feb. 16th. They might very well share a birthday! Awwww!

At various cookouts, we saw Jen and Kevin, and Monique and Brent, and Andrea and Zac!

Jen and Kevin's daughter Molly had an iPad! This was a huge hit. I meant to take pictures of their 6-month old daughter Keegan, who is destined to be Clair's BFF, but I was really slacking with the photos this weekend.

And we had a playdate with Stacey and Hugo...but no photographic evidence. Sorry. We even took the boys to a restaurant, and survived unscathed! Check us out!

And Lester and I watched a movie, ran errands, hung out, took naps and just enjoyed some quality down-time, family-time and couple-time.

Thanks to the Labor Unions of America for fighting so hard and sacrificing so much to give us working joes a much-needed day off at the end of summer! We appreciate you!

Now, back to our regularly scheduled lives. School, whining, schedules, whining, rushing, whining and more whining. Sweeet.