And so it begins...

Potty training has begun in earnest in our house.

It happened literally overnight.

On Saturday, everyone was in diapers, relieving themselves at will, without any thought about it.
On Sunday, Dean said he had to go potty, we sat him on the potty and he went.
Later he did it again. And again. Until it was so close to bathtime, I didn't want to put another diaper on him, so on a lark, I put on Big Boy Underwear. He told me two more times after that that he had to go -- and each time he did.

On Monday, we sent him to school with BBUs, and would you believe it? NO accidents.
And all day long, no accidents.

Somewhere along in there, Cary decided he didn't want to be left out of the potty parade.
He has less success actually going when he's on the potty, but we praise him nonetheless for trying.
Every time Dean says he has to go, Cary wants to try too. So there has been a LOT of pottying in our house the last two days. A LOT.

This morning, both boys went to school with BBUs, so we'll see how that goes.
Of course, as soon as we were about to leave the house to go to school, Dean said he had to go potty, and Cary parroted him. So we sat and sat and sat and eventually ended up late (of course), but what else can you do when they're just beginning but accommodate their every urge to sit and try?

Nothing happened (of course) but when we got to school, Dean said he had to go again. (Cary chimed in, of course.) So Miss Toni and I marched them to the school bathroom where Dean really did have to go and Cary really did have to try.  And 15 minutes later, I was late for work.

Ugh.

And people keep telling Lester and me all about the awesomeness that now awaits us in terms of having to rush through public places trying to find bathrooms for panicked toddlers, having to wake them up in the middle of the night to pee (or worse, to change clothes and sheets) and all the cleaning up and laundry and inability to drive long distances unencumbered. 

Ugh.

Is it wrong to be happy that they're growing, getting more independent and inching their way toward a diaper-free existence, and at the same time dread all that comes with it?

Even if they do look super cute in their little Big Boy undies!

Seriously awesome weekend!

So much great stuff happened this weekend, I would be here all day writing if I didn't break it into manageable chunks.

First ... Clair perfected her get-down-get-funky dance, and it is the best part of my day.

The girl's got rhythm, no? Takes after her Mommy. Sorry, Lester. You know it's true.

Also, we went to Storyville again, and Clair really got into it, as opposed to the last time we came, when she was a teenier baby and conked out the entire time.

Fun with magnets.

The Davis family took over a whole section of Storyville. We roll deep, yo!

The boys' second time at the library was a huge success. While I picked out books that were all on a waitlist, dangit, they picked out books to take home, put 'em in a basket, and then sat down -- uninstructed by me -- and started "reading." Yes. My boys are awesome.

Seriously, I turned around from the library counter and this was happening. I almost fell over.

Also, drumroll please ...... Dean Ezra Davis earned himself a pair of Elmo-covered Big Boy Underpants for successfully declaring his need for the potty -- and then successfully using said potty -- three times in a row!

"I'm getting bigger!" he said, after putting on his underwear.

He was sooo excited! And when he also woke up this morning with a dry diaper, and went to the potty first thing in the morning, we also decided to send him TO SCHOOL WITH HIS BIG BOY UNDERPANTS ON!  I have no idea how this turned out. I will have to call Michelle at some point and see if there were accidents, but I'm too scared.

For his part, Cary tries, but he is not having as much success as his brother. But he melts down when Dean gets a Raisinet for his potty-success, and he doesn't, and he wants to wear Big Boy Underpants, too. So, being the sucker that I am, I just give him a chocolate raisin for "trying," and I put underpants on over his diaper. This seems to satisfy him for now. But it's making a mockery of the incentives. Oh well.No one said parenting was easy.

But the total cherry on top of this sweet-sundae of a weekend, was piling my entire family into the minivan and driving 100 hours to Angel's house in Virginia, where we got Clair's 1st Birthday photos taken, hugged and squealed over one another, ate, drank, laughed and had the. best. time.

Of course, I have NO photos of us together because I was so focused on Clair and her photo shoot, I lost my phone for several crucial hours in Angel's bedroom. But Angel has documented the fun, fun day here on her excellent blog (which you should be reading, anyway, if you're not already because she is absolutely hysterical and her children are gorgeous).

Angel and I have become such good friends over the course of the last 3+ years, seeing us together on Saturday, you would never have known that we've only actually met in person twice -- yesterday's visit counting as one of the two times. Being with her was so easy and warm and familiar, it was like we were lifelong friends. I was so happy to be in her house, cooing at her babies, laughing with her two Roars, eating fine cuisine (LOL!) and drinking supremely tasty cocktails. (I was a little tipsy when the night was over, but don't tell my children.)

Anyway, I am always amazed at what a great job I do picking friends. Just about all the women in my life are fabulous in so many ways, I marvel at how much awesomeness would be in one room if I was lucky enough to get them all together. Angel is no exception. She is beautiful, talented, smart, skilled in a wide range of things, a loving, kind and inspirational Mom, creative, generous and has great hair.

I kind of hate her.

But when I start to get jealous, I think about how those talents often benefit ME (of course). For example, her skills with a camera give me sweet shots like these:

Tahira, don't ask me what I'm doing with her hair. OK? I don't. frikkin.' know.

Isn't that so cute? I can't wait to see the rest of her photos! Most importantly, I hope we can find time to get together more often, now that we know that we fit together like orange juice and coconut rum. And oh, how sweet it is.

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

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

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

Awww. Hearts and exes and ohs and unicorns!

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

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

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

Like I said, "Don't worry about things until..." well, you know the rest

Cary is not going deaf!

Praise the Lord!

Instead, he has yet another double ear infection, and lot of fluid behind his ear drum, which the doctor says might make it seem to him as if he were listening to us from under water.

He also said two sets of double ear infections in a row, in and of themselves, is not cause for concern.

But just to set me at ease, when we've gone through this round of antibiotics and gotten the all-clear in three weeks, he said he'll give me a referral to the audiology center for a hearing test.

Now see? Aren't you glad I didn't jump to conclusions and assume my child had progressive hearing loss? Aren't you glad I didn't worry about this since there wasn't really anything to worry about?

Ahem.

(P.S. Thanks for all the support over the last couple days, as I was absolutely NOT WORRYING about this!)

Don't worry about things until there's actually something to worry about

This is what I keep telling myself.

Tanika, don't worry about things until there's actually something to worry about.

But it's difficult when that "thing" you're trying not to worry about is your son, who for the past couple months, has been exhibiting signs that he is having trouble hearing.

It started around Christmas, the troubling signs. And we eventually discovered he had a double ear infection and a popped eardrum. Strong antibiotics and ear drops seemed to have done the trick, though, because at his follow-up, our doctor said everything looked perfect.

But since then the signs persist.

The most obvious one is that he tells us directly, "I can't hear you," when we're talking in our normal voices. His little brow furrows and his voice sounds small. "Mommy, what'd you say? I can't hear you."

I can see him sometimes trying to decipher what I've said by watching my lips. "Do you want macaroni and cheese?" I asked him once, looking directly at him on the changing table. "Hmmm?" he said, studying my mouth. "You said, 'music class?'"

In the past week, it's gotten worse, and Lester and I have tried all the "tricks" to see if he's exaggerating a bit, or working us to avoid having to pick up the Legos. All the experiments turn out the same: He can sometimes hear me, especially if I speak in an elevated voice and he's expecting the conversation. He has less trouble hearing Lester, but there are times when even his Dad's booming voice seems lost to him.
 
Lester picked Cary up on Sunday and kissed his face. "Why do you keep saying you can't hear us, buddy?" he asked Cary in a gentle voice.

"Because," Cary responded, smiling. "Because you all keep talking softly."

Tears stung the backs of my eyes. I felt like I swallowed an apple. We're not "talking softly" in our house -- almost ever. This is one of the loudest houses on Earth.

The final straw was this experiment -- one of many, many similar ones I've tried: I stood behind him, about 3 feet away, and asked, in a somewhat quiet, but not a whispering, tone, "Cary, how about we go downstairs and get some ice cream?" He didn't respond. I tried again in a normal tone. He didn't respond. So I added in "cookies" to the treats he could have if he would just turn around and answer. He just played with his train, whirring it along my bed. Still in a normal tone, I upped the ante:
"Cary! Cookie Hood is here! He's downstairs eating cookies! Let's go see him and get some cookies!" (He is obsessed with Cookie Hood, so I just knew he'd hear that).

From the next room, Dean said, "Cookies?!" Cary still didn't move.

I went in the bathroom, put my head on Lester's chest, and cried.

The thought that my smart, silly, sweet little boy seems to have trouble hearing -- especially hearing me  -- breaks my heart so much I can't even tell you.

I'm not sure what exactly is going on, and I've spent FAR too much time on the Internet reading about all sorts of scary things I wish I never knew. But we're going to get to the bottom of it. I wanted to just get a referral to take him to the audiology center where his hearing was tested as a baby, but our doctor said he should see him first. I think this is a waste of time, as he's already seen him -- declared his ears "perfect" -- and sent us home. Something isn't right and I know it. And I am not good at being patient when it comes to things like this.

But we will take him back to the doctor tomorrow afternoon and see what he says.

Until then, I will try not to worry about things until there's actually something to worry about. :-(

My little Cary, doing his favorite thing  (listen to that sweet little cartoon voice):

Congratulations to the Baltimore Ravens!

In case you didn't know, the Baltimore Ravens won the Superbowl last night! It really is a great feeling. Not because Lester and I are such huge Ravens' fans (Redskins forever!) -- and I'm not even a big football fan, to be honest -- but because the collective mood in this city right now cannot be beat.

Yeah, this is pretty much the entire city of Baltimore today. Like confetti is falling from the sky all day long.

If any city needs a shot in the arm such as the kind that comes from a Super Bowl win, it's Baltimore. Believe me.

Lester and I watched the game and the post-game and then tackled the normal Sunday evening chores. By the time I finished cleaning up all the pizza and hot wings off our basement floor (thanks kids!) blending up lunch for Clair in the food processor, packing snack bags, making my lunch, washing the dishes, and writing notes for Michelle, it was 1:30 -- a full three and a half hours after the time I like to be in the bed. And wouldn't you know Clair Davis decided to wake up -- for a bottle, no less -- at 3?

Needless to say, I am pooped!

But on my way in to work, people were still honking their car horns driving down the street, purple flags waving in the air. My neighbors stepped out of their homes in purple shirts, purple shoes, purple hair. The crossing guard at the boys' school was fairly dancing the children across the street. My boss is in a grand mood, and he made the coffee I'm chugging just perfectly.

Thanks, Baltimore Ravens!

It never gets easier

Tuesday night I had a board meeting with one group I've involved with.

Last night, I had a committee meeting for another board I'm on.

Two nights in a row, my children were asleep in their beds by the time I came home. Two nights in a row, I missed hearing their funny stories and infectious giggles.

I went in Clair's room when I got home and just stared at her little sleeping face and her body all Houdini-wrapped in her blanket (Sidenote: I can't decide which SleepSack to get -- with leg holes or without -- so she's still keeping me up at night with that darn blanket). I missed her and her brothers so much, after just two nights.

When Lester and I said we wanted to build our careers and our network of professional contacts, there were many reasons. One important one is that we hope we'll be able to know people someday who will be able to help them out. So some of this working overtime -- a lot of it, actually -- is for them.

But it doesn't make not seeing them any easier.

Not one little bit.

More on growing up...and getting around

Speaking of growing up ... check out little Miss Missy and the boys' old walking toy.

Like a pro!

Her brothers better watch out. She's coming for them!

Watching the kids grow and get along

One of the most fun things about having children is watching the dynamics between them.

Especially when they start off as twins, not even aware of the other's existence, it is quite fascinating to watch them grow, figure out that "hey, I like this kid," and slowly, slowly become best friends.

The boys went to a birthday party this weekend.  It was Thomas-the-Train-themed and it was a little bit off-the-hook. There were trains everywhere. Train-shaped sandwiches, trains on the floor, trains on the cake, a train movie. Even an ACTUAL TRAIN. (I was like, whoa! These people take birthday parties seriously.) All the kids were apoplectic over the train, and there were tears and tantrums when it was time to share. So it was really cool to see how my two boys looked out for one another, each taking pains to make sure his brother got a turn, and then another turn, and -- when everyone else went back into the living room to play with the hand-held trains on the tracks on the floor -- still more turns.

They thought this train was the best. thing. ever.

At home, they fight like the dickens. But out in the world, they are very protective of one another. It is very sweet, and I hope it is also indicative of how they'll be later in life, when it really counts.

The boys also have a hilarious ritual at night, after we say prayers and close their door for bedtime. They talk and talk and talk and talk, and sometimes sing, and also act out scenes from Sesame Street or Yo Gabba Gabba or from books we have, like Elephant and Piggie.

Lately, they're obsessed (especially Cary) with a Cookie Monster DVD Aunt Tootie gave them for Christmas, where "Cookie Hood" steals cookies to give to the cookie-less and everyone blames Cookie Monster, which hurts his feelings. They cannot get enough of play-acting this all day, and half the night. Take this hilarious exchange from last night:

Cary, in his bed, talking unintelligibly about something having to do with Cookie Monster, really, really loudly. 
Cary: Ohhhhh! (Mumble mumble) Cookie Monster!! Nom nom nom! (Gibberish) NOOOO! Cookie hood! (Nonsense) Don't! Ohhhh! Nom nom nom nom nom!
Dean (yelling at the top of his lungs): Cary! You have to get ahold of yourself!

Hahahaa! That CRACKED me up. I realized later that Lightning McQueen says to Mater Truck in one of their zillion books: "You have to get ahold of yourself! You're making a scene!" But at first, before I remembered that book, I seriously stood outside their bedroom door like, "Whuh?"

They are too funny.

It'll be very, very interesting to see how Miss Clair fits herself into this dynamic. It's clear already that she intends NOT to be overlooked. She crawls or cruises right over to where they are, and tries to play whatever they're playing. And when she doesn't get her way, she gets a serious 'tude. She is loud and gregarious and in-your-face, and I do believe those two Davis boys are gonna be in for it, as soon as she's able to walk and talk.

You can catch a small glimpse of her getting the best of them in this video:

A little background: We had been stacking tall Lego buildings in different color patterns, and trying to hypothesize which one would be bigger when we were done. The buildings kept falling, and it took us several frustrating times to finally get them both upright, so we could judge. And then...enter Clair!

Again I say, they are tooo funny.

My take on the "news" and pop culture

As a former reporter, I follow the news with a certain insider's bemusement and jadedness. And also, of course, affection for the work of real journalists. But mostly, since leaving the field in 2008, I have been able to just follow it as a reader/layperson. And that's pretty cool.

Like, I can totally laugh at the fact that Beyonce-gate has become "news."

When I worked in the Features department, I probably would've had to write about this "shocking controversy" instead of just laughing at it, and solicit "experts" and whatnot for comment. Whatev.
Despite all the earnest coverage of this "fraudulent affair, "my favorite Beyonce Inauguration lip-synching quote belongs to Stephen Colbert: "It is now official. Jay-Z officially has 100 problems."
HA! That cracked me up.

Also, what is the deal with this dude Manti Te'o? I understand why the story is titillating and gossip-worthy, but I'm not sure I get why it's "news."

Speaking of football players, the Baltimore Ravens are in the Superbowl this year! This is actually pretty exciting, even for me, someone who is not a football enthusiast, and even for Lester, who is a diehard Redskins' fan for life. (HTTR!!) Living in Baltimore, you can't help but get caught up in the entire city's excitement, and purple everywhere, and admiration for Ray Lewis, who has had quite a career.

And also, there's the built-in storyline of this year's Superbowl: two brothers coaching opposing teams for the Superbowl championship title. Can you imagine being those boys' mother?? Who do you root for? Ugh! The stress.

My boss, a total Ravens fan, found an old picture of the two coaches, the Harbaughs. Lester and I looked at it last night and Lester laughed so hard at how the boys' adult personalities are totally evident even in this childhood photograph.

Ravens coach on the left -- the nice one! Blah-blah-blah other coach on the right -- evil, scowling, destined to lose the Superbowl one.

It made us wonder about what childhood traits of Cary and Dean's we will recognize in adulthood. And we thought a lot -- again -- about how people just are who they are, despite what parents think about how we are "shaping" kids into adults. Obviously, we have some influence -- and God knows bad parenting can screw folks up for life!! -- but for the most part, we're just here to help them be the best people they were already programmed to be. That's actually kind of freeing. Takes the pressure off a bit, no?

But on the other hand, that also reminds me of a fascinating New York magazine story that ran this week with the headline, "Why You Never Truly Leave High School."  The article spends a lot of time talking about how we are all shaped so much by our high school/adolescent experiences and emotions.

"Maybe, perversely, we should be grateful that high school prepares us for this life," the article says near the end. "The isolation, the shame, the aggression from those years—all of it readies us to cope. But one also has to wonder whether high school is to blame; whether the worst of adult America looks like high school because it’s populated by people who went to high school in America. We’re recapitulating the ugly folkways of this institution, and reacting with the same reflexes, because that’s where we were trapped, and shaped, and misshaped, during some of our most vulnerable years."

Isn't that interesting? I actually had a fairly normal high school experience, not too high on the shame or aggression or isolation, nor too high on the popularity or the partying either. It was just normal. Which, I guess, according to this article, might be a clue as to why my adult  life is somewhat normal (comparatively speaking).  I dunno. But it is an interesting thing to contemplate. And also one more thing for me to think about when raising children. You know how I have been all about the synapse-building because of the whole birth-to-3 theory?? Well, dang. Now I gotta make sure these kids have a normal high school experience, too! The pressure!

(I joke, people. I joke. Sorta.)

Anyway, one last pop culture thing to mention here. Have I ever shared my undying love for Justin Timberlake? Oh yes, JT is so my boo! :-) He's been busy making movies and getting married to Jessica Biel (blech!) and whatnot, so he hasn't released any music pretty much since he brought sexy back in 2006.

But now, he has REALLY brought the sexy back, with his new single "Suit and Tie."

I love this song and the lyric video! It totally makes me think of my early days of dating Lester, and how he made me feel. I'm a sucker for a gentleman in a nice suit and tie, and Lester is amazingly good-looking when he dons one. And plus, the song makes me want to go out in a dress and heels, get a fabulous cocktail (or two) and dance. I haven't felt like that since before I got pregnant with Clair.

All pressed up in black and white
And you're dressed in that dress I like
Love is swinging in the air tonight
Let me show you a few things
Let me show you a few things
Show you a few things about love
While we’re in the swing of love
Let me show you a few things
Show you a few things about love...

Lester totally did that for me. He showed me "a few things" -- and then some -- about real love.

I pray Cary, Dean and Clair find that kind of heady and long-lasting feeling with someone worthy of them one day.

Little baby Davises, I hope you read this some day. That right there is news you can use.

The word of the day: Perspective

Yesterday, Lester took Dean to the doctor to see about the complaint he was having about his ear. We were especially vigilant because Michelle told us that Dean had a little waxy substance coming out of his ear when he woke up from his nap the day before.

This happened with Cary over the holiday break, if you recall, and it turned out -- after a few days of us thinking it was only ear wax -- he had a burst eardrum! So we weren't taking any chances with Dean.

Guess what? Dean has an ear infection. And of course he would! This is the Davis House of the Infirm is it not?

That makes us 3 for 3 for kids with ear infections this winter. And it also brings the total number of people on antibiotics in our house to 3 (Dean, Clair, me). If you count Michelle, who has also been taking antibiotics to help with her month-long sickness, that's 4 people!

And we're now on week 4 of me being sick -- although I have to say, I am feeling better finally, thank the good Lord in heaven (and also thanks to the wonders of modern medicine. And time, too, I suppose.)

Anyway, I got a good dose of perspective this week from Laura C. so I have resolved not to complain about the relatively minor things that are affecting our family's health.

Instead, I will take time to reflect on how amazingly amazing my children are. Because they are here for such a very short time, in the scheme of things, and tomorrow is never promised.

Even though I felt like shiznit, I took the boys to the playground on Sunday, because it was such a nice day. We ate snacks and played for close to two hours. They loved it!

 

Here they are playing "train." Dean is the "tunductor." At one point, Cary looked at the letters on the side of this toy and said, "B. Eight. O. Spells 'train.'" I told him he was absolutely correct.

At some point on Sunday night, while I was fixing dinner and Lester was "watching" the kids in the basement, and also the football game, Dean brought me my cell phone, which had been disabled. Why was it disabled? Because Dean had been playing with it -- a No-No! -- and iPhone shut him down!

Later on, I looked through my photos and found that my Dean is an incredible artist. Check out these two selfies he took -- somehow using my Hipstamatic program.

The perspective on those selfies just grabs me. Who is that little boy? What is he thinking? What does he want out of life? Where will he end up in the future?

Anyway, he also somehow got into a drawing app I have on my phone for kids, created an abstract - and then took a screen shot of it.

What does it mean, Dean? What does it MEAN?!

I honestly have no idea how he was able to do all this. But one day, when my child's artwork and photography is hanging up at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, don't say I didn't tell you.

And, just for good measure, here's a picture of  my darling Clair -- without her hair standing up all over her head.  For a kid with an ear infection and RSV, she is really super pleasant. And cute, too.

Hello lovely!

And, since I am in supreme children-appreciation mode, and want to savor all my wonderful memories with them, here is a video of the boys when we were watching the Inaugural parade on Monday, and they got inspired by the marching bands to dance along. I hadn't intended to post this, because the playroom looks such a mess. (Isn't that silly?) I mean, who the hell cares? Having kids is messy sometimes, and in our house, more often than not. So here they are, the marching, dancing Barack Obama-loving Davis boys:

I was feeling like total crap by the end of the day Monday, and I was also feeling just a wee bit jealous of all the people who got to go to the Inauguration and feel -- in person -- the simultaneous solemnity and excitement of the day.

But in retrospect, I am so glad I got to spend a few minutes in the messy basement playroom, with my children, enjoying them as they jumped and danced and marched and laughed. These are the moments that give meaning to my life.

Perspective = Realizing I wouldn't trade this time with them for anything in the world.

Lester on dating

One of the reasons I started this blog was so the kids could have some insight into their parents' personalities, lives and thoughts -- some day when they're older and recognize that we are actually human beings and not just "parents."

Because it's my blog, meaning I'm the writer, Lester's perspective rarely gets top billing.

But he sent me an email last week that I really wanted to share here. I had to get his permission, because he's far more private than I am, and especially about stuff that goes on the Internet. He was initially reluctant -- "That email was meant for you." -- but I won him over.

There's nothing Earth-moving about it; it's just something sweet that I want the kids to know that their father was thinking about on a random January afternoon. Here's his email:

I recently read a New York Times story about how technology has hampered people in their teens and 20s when it comes to traditional dating.

A line from the story perfectly captures the problem: Instead of dinner-and-a-movie, which seems as obsolete as a rotary phone, they rendezvous over phone texts, Facebook posts, instant messages and other “non-dates” that are leaving a generation confused about how to land a boyfriend or girlfriend. 

This morning I was reading a Washington Post story about a man who gave President Obama a medal he received while fighting in Vietnam. The story was essentially about how this man (now 68) had an impact on the future President during that chance encounter nearly five years ago. But one paragraph in the story near the end brought me back to that previous story and made me sad because today's daters are just lame.

I really hope our boys are these type of daters:

Smith’s life outside of work came together nicely, as well. A brief early marriage had fallen apart. Then came one night when Smith saw two women stranded next to a broken-down car by the roadside.
Smith fixed their tire and was smitten by one of the women. “I told her, ‘Look, I know you don’t talk to strangers, but you seem to be a real nice lady. And I know you don’t give your number to strangers, but I’m going to give you my number, and tell you where I work and where I live, and if you foresee that you want to call me, maybe we could go have a cup of coffee or a cup of tea,’ ” he said.
It took Claudia Howard six months to phone. They have been married 32 years and have two grown children, a daughter and a son.
                                                         ******
Isn't that sweet? I hope the boys and Clair read this some day and think about a few things:

1. Their father had hopes for Cary and Dean about how they'll treat women.
2. This says something to all of them about how their father treated women.
3.  In the middle of the workday, he was thinking about them and their future.

RSV, ear infections and other loveliness

There is a pox on my house.

Saturday we discovered Clair has an ear infection and RSV. She's on antibiotics for the ear infection. She's sleeping poorly.

Yesterday, on one of the most exciting days in recent history, I spent the day at the doctor with Cary and at my own doctor. Cary, it turns out, also has RSV (but his ears are clear, thank God). And I have an upper respiratory/sinus infection. Cary got albuterol; I got antibiotics. Last night, I had drainage from hell -- I seriously could not breathe. Between that and Clair not sleeping well, I got very little sleep.

And then this morning, when Lester woke the boys up for school, Dean cried and told him his ear hurt. When I hugged him and asked him what was wrong, he said his neck hurts (that means his throat). Lester took his temperature and it was slightly elevated (100.2) but when I called his doctor, he said to just see how it goes today. When I dropped Dean off at school, his head felt really hot to me. And he was sullen and slightly whiny. So I guess we will just see how the day goes. If I end up having to take him to the doctor today, I guess I would not be the least bit surprised.

I am sick of sickness. Have I said that already? Ugh!

In other news, what little I did get to see of the inaugural festivities moved me to tears. And Cary and Dean thoroughly enjoyed watching the parade. They danced and jumped and banged on their drums, saying, "Look Mommy, I'm a marching band!" And whenever they caught a glimpse of Barack Obama, they whooped.

Also this weekend, Clair climbed up all the stairs while I was outside putting a carseat in the car and scared the living CRAP outta me. Once again, I was completely caught off guard by her reaching this milestone.

And also...this happened -- many, many times:

In sickness and in health, folks, time keeps moving on.

MLK/President Obama Day reflections

In honor of my homeboy Martin Luther the King, whose birthday is celebrated today -- and my other homeboy, Barack Obama the President, whose second term in office is ushered in today -- I spent some time this morning reflecting on my ancestors and elders, the people whose lives made it possible for me to live the privileged life I do today.

Living in a place like Baltimore, it's easy to forget that, in my grandparents' lifetimes, there were segregated schools and prohibitions on interracial marriage and discriminatory laws that kept black people from buying homes or seeking education in certain colleges or earning as much as their non-black peers. Black people were systematically held back, hazed, hated and even killed.

But so many good people recognized this injustice and instead of just tut-tutting about it with sympathetic others, they withstood hatred and danger and ostracizing to FIGHT to make sure that things would change. I thank those fighters with all my heart.

Some people helped the cause of equality by quietly going about the business of living their lives, with dignity and determination, shoulders squared for the hatred and the obstacles that thwarted them daily. They are the doers. I like to think that many in my own family -- grandparents and great-grandparents and Aunties and Uncles I never met -- are among that group. I hope somehow they know how much I thank, and love, them too.

It is amazing to think that we have come so far in such a relatively short period of time. What a poetic coincidence that President Obama will serve a second term in office, beginning on the day we observe the birthday of Dr. King. 

But today I want to thank all of the heroes (as I should every day). Not just the big names, and not just the fighters, but the everyday doers, too, for paving the way for me and my family. Their insistence (in both big and small ways) that the world recognize their humanity means that I don't have to fight quite as hard. I don't have to do quite as much.

I can just be.


Thank you to all those who lives and deaths provide me with that comfortable existence, that ability to just be. Considering what their lives were like, that feels to me like a supreme privilege. Thank God they knew that it was, in fact, a right.

Sick of being sick and tired!

I am sick.

I got some mutant version of the flu (all-over achiness and exhaustion, but no fever) on Wednesday. I've been home, in bed, pretty much ever since. Today is the first day my fingers have felt normal enough to even type. Isn't that weird? Seriously, even my teeth were sore. Such a bizarre little bug.

Meanwhile, I've been able to rest, thank God, because 1) Michelle is here during the day with the kids and 2) Lester has arranged his schedule to be home when Michelle gets off. So I have been able to nap, and rest, in my darkened room. I am so grateful, and blessed. And boy did I need it.

But this does not mean all has been easy.

Except for Lester, the whole house is sick. Cary, Dean and Clair have a nasty cough. Cary's coupled his cough with an off-and-on fever. Clair's paired hers with a majorly stuffy/runny nose that keeps her up all night. The boys haven't been to school in two days. Everyone's been in their pajamas, skulking around, clingy and needy.

When I ask the boys in the morning how'd they sleep, Dean says, "I was keep coughing!" Poor thing.


The kids and I have been battling sickness of some kind since before the holidays. And I was pretty sure I was as sick as a person could possibly be when we were traipsing around New York City, in the freezing cold. But this last flu-like thing put me under.

Michelle has been sick, too -- with a horrible cough and congested lungs for over a month. And just today she said, "Oh no. My body is starting to feel achy. Even my fingers feel sore." I nodded, with sad understanding. I know where Michelle's gonna be this weekend.

I'm seriously tired of being sick -- and tired. Can it just be spring already?

Sheesh.

P.S. In other news, Dean jumped on a library book Cary was reading yesterday and ...tore it. Of course. Ugh!!
P.P.S. A lot of folks have suggested sleep sacks for Clair, to prevent her from suffocating herself at night. Question: Will she still be able to move around freely at night in them? She is a really active baby. I seem to remember sleep sacks being more for smaller babies. Did you guys use them for your nearing toddler-hood babies, too?

Happy 11-months Clair!

My little Clairzee is 11 months today, just one month shy of the magic 1-year-mark.
I can't believe how fast the time has gone. (I feel like I say that all the time. And I'm sure I'll be saying it again!)

One thing this means is that we need to start weaning her off of formula. With the boys, we started about a month in advance of their birthday, gradually increasing the amount of whole milk in their bottles. So we'll start that with her this week or so.

I thought I would be more excited about the prospect of never having to buy Enfamil ever, ever again. But I'm a little ambivalent about it. I'm not sure if it's because in the scheme of things, it's not that much money -- especially compared to having to buy jumbo packs of diapers and wipes for three kids, including a jumbo-jumbo pack for school (I will seriously do a happy dance when we get rid of that triple-kid diaper-and-wipes bill! Whenever that happens with my two potty-refusers!)

Or maybe it's because somewhere deep down I'm not all that excited about her growing out of this very visible marker of infancy. I dunno. I'll have to think about that some more.

Anyway, to mark the occasion of the countdown to her birthday, my sweetie was up half the night, coughing and sniffling and twisting herself into unfathomable positions in the crib. I seriously must've gone in to rescue her six or seven times. And then, around 6:15 this morning, she woke us up screaming her head off. Turned out she had somehow gotten her blanket up over her head and was unable to free herself. She hasn't done that since early infancy. She was scared to death, and she scared me to death, and after my heart rate went down to some semblance of normal, I thought to myself, "UGH! When will this baby learn how to sleep?"

Honestly, I am so much more tired than I was with the boys, because although Clair sleeps through the night (technically), she is so ridiculously fitful, and such a Princess-and-the-Pea-like diva, that she consistently requires "adjusting" -- at least twice, sometimes more times, a night. And although Miss Missy barely even wakes up to alert me to her predicament, I end up struggling to fall back to sleep each time. I don't know that I have gotten a true full-night's sleep since she was born. Heck, since I was pregnant with her! The lack-of-sleep is showing on my face, too. I feel like I look 50, instead of a few months shy of 40. So as Clair hits the 1-year-mark, here are my birthday wishes for her:

• I need her to learn to get herself back in a comfortable position when she twists and turns herself around in her crib.
• I need her to NOT get herself smothered in her blanket. Ever again!
• I need her to stop moaning and groaning so much at night as she sleeps, waking her insomniac Mother up with every wriggle and roll. (Perhaps I need to wean myself off the baby monitor?? Hmmm.)

Other than that, I hope my Clair stays exactly the way she is:
Happy and sassy, with a huge personality. 
Loving and opinionated, sweet as can be. 
Clairzee.

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

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

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

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

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

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

 ******

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

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

The Year of (somewhat) Austerity: An update

Last October (2011), Lester and I declared that 2012 would be the Year of Austerity.

We scaled back on some non-essentials, reduced our weekly cash-on-hand, and resolved to save much more money.

A year later, here's the long and the short of it: We did save SOME money. But not nearly as much as we planned.

There are a couple reasons why. The biggest is our air conditioning fiasco, when our decades old AC unit conked out on us -- during the hottest summer ever! (I'm not making that up; 2012 is on record as the hottest year EVER.) We were forced to completely replace the AC system, and since we are debt-averse (when it can be helped), we just paid for it out of our savings. That was $6,000 we hadn't planned for.  Ugh. Just typing that makes me want to weep.

Also, we underestimated how much having a new baby around would eat into "discretionary" money. Taking the full 3 months off for maternity leave, for instance, meant missing three paychecks. That doesn't seem like a lot, but when literally every dollar is accounted for (and with Lester Davis-budgeter-extraordinaire around, believe me EVERY dollar is accounted for) missing three paychecks was a big hit. Not to mention formula and extra diapers and other stuff. Small stuff all adds up.

And finally, I think we have really realized that having every dollar accounted for is just fine until life happens. Plumbing issues, school supplies, new fall clothes for the growing boys, car repairs, computer battery dies, prescription meds for sick kids, babysitting, etc. etc. The list goes on and on.

We realize there either has to be more "disposable" money (or else we will always be tapping into what we'd like to be savings), or we need to be more honest, or realistic is a better word, about how much it really costs to live day-to-day with three little kiddos.

It reminds me of when we first started with our accountant, Joe, and we were newly-married, without kids and saving money at a rapid clip. We were so proud, and so smug. "We're saving like 20-percent of our take-home," we told him, clasping hands and looking giddy.

"Yeah. That's not sustainable," he said.

We were so confused at the time. And we considered not sticking with Joe. Shouldn't your accountant be more encouraging about saving money?

But now we understand, Joe. Now we understand.

I heart blogging!

After my blog post from yesterday, I got some really super-sweet, encouraging, supportive messages from some very wonderful bloggy friends, Janna, Laura C. and Angel C. Thanks so much you guys! You have no idea how much your support means.

Their notes made me start thinking about how awesome this blog has been for so many reasons -- most especially the support system, and getting to meet awesome women who are all about loving and caring for their families, and also taking good care of themselves. That is invaluable! But also, this blog really does help me keep track of the things that you tend to forget as a busy Mommy.

For example, I looked back at some old posts of mine and realized that Clair should be getting some teeth pretty soon (if her brothers are any indication). I had completely blanked out about Clair and her teeth, which is so funny because with the boys, who were late teethers, I was so afraid they'd be toothless for life that I was fairly staring in their mouths all day long, hoping to see something white poking through their gums. I had an actual tooth count going in the house! I was obsessed. But Clair's teeth, or lack thereof, had not even crossed my mind, not even once. For the record, I actually feel like this is a better way to be about children's teeth, seeing as how I have absolutely no control over when they get them. Live and learn.

In the same vein, it occurred to me after re-reading some old posts, that by 11 months (which Clair will be next week), neither of the boys were saying any real words or attempting walking. In fact, it took them until a couple weeks before their first birthday before they started doing the "look-ma-no-hands" stance. Clair, on the other hand, has already started doing that -- and will stand without assistance for 4 maybe 5 seconds at a time, at least once or twice a day. So -- here again -- I think she's going to be ahead of her brothers a bit. She also will take a sock and try to put it on her foot, she'll put the hairbrush to her hair and attempt to "brush," and she steals my phone all the time and smacks herself in the head with it, trying to put it to her ear. So my girl, of course, is a veritable genius. Albeit a toothless one.

When I talked to Lester about this last night, during the kids' bathtime, he was surprised to remember that the boys weren't walking until they were almost 14 months, and that they didn't have teeth by the time they were Clair's age. And I had to admit that I didn't remember most of that either. It's only because I kept this blog that I remembered those things. Are they that important in the scheme of things? Maybe not. But it's just one example of why I'm glad to have a reference for so many things in their lives -- and mine -- that I'd likely forget otherwise, in the hustle-bustle of every day life.

I know that people think that there's too much sharing in today's world. They say people put too much "out there," and that, really,your memories are all you need. And particularly when it comes to kids lately, there's a lot of discussion about how much they will really appreciate the fact that their Mom told the world in her blog or on Facebook about every little thing they did and said while in diapers. (The consensus is: Not much.)

But for me, this blog has become a necessity. It is not just a journal or the kids' online Baby Books (especially since they ain't got no other Baby Books -- sorry kids!); it has become my electronic memory. Some would say, "Well, couldn't you keep the blog private then?" But why would I ever give up this place where I have come to experience real community and friendship and camaraderie with other women I admire?

Blogging takes a few minutes a day. It is free. Many days it is cathartic. Other days it is revealing -- just the act of typing out my thoughts and feelings helps me sort through things I've been ambivalent or confused about. It helps me -- in the midst of working, cooking, reading, Lego-ing, kid-wrangling, Lester-loving, organizing, family-visiting, (occasionally) cleaning and thinking about exercising -- to get quiet and still and spend time with myself.

I am so glad I started blogging. I hope some of you who are on the fence about starting a blog will think about doing it too.

Sleepless leads to progress

I am having trouble sleeping.

It started because I have been sick as a dog (even in New York, but I pushed past it) and unable to breathe well at night.

Then when we got back from the weekend, I had all the normal "back-to-work/school" worries running around in my brain.

And then, last night -- horror of horrors -- I noticed the mice have come back. UGGGGHH!! I HATE living in my house! And so I spent the night lying awake, imagining every tiny sound I heard was a mouse, coming to eat me alive.

Around 12:45, I decided to just get up. I went to my computer and started to do the mindless thing I always do when I can't sleep -- looking at pictures of renovated kitchens and dreaming (something I do a lot of at cultivate.com); or looking at actual, beautiful, non-mice-ridden houses for sale in neighborhoods I only wish I lived in.

But last night, after considerable prayer for days on end for strength and courage, I decided to finally take a step toward getting that new house, and that beautiful kitchen.

I hope you know that I have been reading all of my friends' blog posts about dreaming big, and not being afraid and taking the first step toward your goals. I read them and I truly feel inspired. It just took until last night, for some reason, to turn that wistful, half-hearted inspiration and motivation into action.

I'm still not quite ready to put it out into the world exactly what I've done -- and believe me, it was a small, small, extremely preliminary step in a long line of things I'll need to do -- because there's no guarantee that I will succeed. In fact, there's a high likelihood I will not reach this goal, one I've had since I was a teenager. It is a big goal.

But in the wee hours of this morning, I took a step. One small step. But a step.

For this, I am grateful for being unable to sleep (for once). And I am truly grateful for having blogger friends who inspire me to DO something about my dreams, and not just remember them, foggily, in the morning after a long night of staring at the ceiling.

New York Sittay!! Whazzup?!

The Davis Family took on New York City this weekend, and lived to tell the tale! Whazzup!

I had a work meeting at the Ford Foundation on Friday. So the whole crew and I took the Amtrak up to NY on Thursday night. The kids LOVED, LOVED, LOVED the train. They also were psyched that I made them little fun bags -- with their cute backpacks we'd never used! So they had lots of fun things to do on the train, including the most fun thing of all, which is to talk really, really loudly so that everyone for two cars in front and behind can hear!

Clair is at a stage where she refuses to keep her socks on. That's why my child is barefoot in 30-degree weather.

Trying to minimize the amount of equipment we had to lug around, Lester and I made a tactical error. We took Clair's Snap N Go, but didn't take the boys' double stroller. By Saturday, after they'd gotten used to the city a bit, this was not a problem. But Thursday night, trying to get up out of Penn Station -- Lordhavemercy. It was challenging to say the least. The boys were equal parts fascinated and scared to death, which made them extremely, extremely slow and also - oddly - more obstinate. They would sometimes refuse to move, which is not a good idea in a place as crowded and chaotic as Penn Station, and even worse when one's hands are full with tons of luggage, a baby stroller and other stuff. Not having the stroller also made it very difficult for Lester to get out and about with them in the morning on Friday when I was at my meeting. So he could really only take them to a late breakfast near the hotel and then come back for a nap. It seemed New York was going to beat us!

This is how my boys looked - and felt - for the first half of the trip. Totally overwhelmed. I can't blame them. New York still overwhelms me sometimes.

But...after that, we hit our NYC stride! I got back from my meeting and we bundled up, hopped in a cab and went over to Rockefeller Center, to see the Christmas tree and the skating rink, both of which were huge hits. We then met up with my friend Sumathi -- who works at the Wall Street Journal just a few blocks away -- and went to dinner at a great Chinese restaurant nearby. The boys ate chicken fried rice and broccoli and enjoyed playing with the chopsticks and drinking water out of the teacups. They were really well-behaved and I was totally proud of them!

"Mommy, look at all those ornaments!!!"

Then we came back to the hotel, stayed up way too late, and got up the next morning, ate breakfast and went off to the Museum of Natural History. The boys loved it! And we can check another museum off of our list, in this Season of Museums. Holla!

Then we went for a long stroll in Central Park. The boys thought it was hilarious, watching all the joggers and bikers and skateboarders and dog walkers. We even saw someone with a parachute attached to his back. People in New York are serious about their exercise! Which reminds me that I'm supposed to be getting up a half-hour earlier every morning to get on the treadmill before work. Sigh. I have got to do better.

Central Park, with the Museum of Natural History in the background. We are in New York Sittay!

Clair was an amazingly easy baby on the trip, and spent most of her time happily looking around or waving at people. People kept remarking, "What a happy baby!" and I was really struck by how much easier it is to do things with her because 1) she has such a different temperament than her brothers did at this age and 2) there's only ONE of her! Even with two other toddlers in tow, it is still easier to only have to manage ONE infant at a time. So for my friends out there with two babies at the same time (you know who you are), just know that I feel your pain; I have suffered the same sense of "will we ever be able to leave the house again?" and I am here to tell you: It will get better.

New York was a huge success. The boys now have the synapse for "taxi!" and for "chopsticks." And this year is off to a roaring start.

Winter 2013: The season of museums

Happy New Year!

I am back at work and I have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to be doing. It's amazing how quickly you can get out of a routine. My body still wants to pad around in pajamas and raid the refrigerator 15 times a day -- not sort through emails and Outlook appointments and invoicing problems. In fact, I am having trouble keeping my mind off of all the fun we had over the holiday break.

Sometime around Thanksgiving, I declared this winter the winter of museums. I wanted to start getting the kids out to see all of the wonderful things there are to see in our area museums. I intended to start in January, but since we had some time off to fill, we started last week. And somehow, we ended up doing three museums in three days!

On Saturday, Lester took the boys to the Baltimore Museum of Art, which is very close to our house, so I don't know why we don't go there more often. (Especially since it is free!)

He said the boys really enjoyed looking at all the art, and looking for "babies" and "animals."

"Look Daddy, I see an animal!"

Little art historians in the making.

He looks like he is really studying this.

On Sunday, Lester wanted to take down our tree, which was shedding pine needles at an alarming rate (and Clair was eating them just as quickly). So I decided to take the kids out of the house to my Mom's. My sister Kadija's kids were there, as usual, and my Mom really needed a break from babysitting, so on a whim, my Dad and I decided to take all the kids to the Smithsonian.
Kadija's 12-year-old opted out, so it ended up being me and Dad and SIX kids, including little baby Clairzee. We took the Metro on one of the coldest, windiest days of the year, but the kids had so much fun, we barely noticed. (Ask me later about my Dad's "shortcut," that had us walking around D.C. searching for the Museum of Natural History for an hour! On the coldest, windiest day of the year.)

At the Metro stop, waiting with their cousins for the train. Clair's off to the side in a stroller, kicking off her blanket no doubt.

The boys LOVED, LOVED, LOVED the Metro (which is also a hashmark on my Synapse Checklist. Ch-ching!) And the dinosaurs at the museum. And being around all their cousins.
It was a hectic, cold, crowded, long day. But their sheer joy was totally, totally worth it.

Their first ride on the D.C. Metro! They even met the conductor, which was to them the equivalent of me meeting Pharrell or Larenz Tate or Idris Elba.

Walking to the museum with Granddad. I heart this picture.

And then on Monday, New Year's Eve, we met up with our friends Geoff, Stacey and Hugo (who is also 2) for an event at the Maryland Science Center, which included party-hat and noisemaker stations, a performance by the band Milkshake, and a 12 noon ball drop and confetti bomb.

Again, this place made my boys SO incredibly happy. They had a supreme blast! They loved the kids' room (we had to literally pry them out of there); they danced along with the band; they made party hats, and they shrieked with delight when the ball dropped and burst, blowing yellow confetti all over the museum.

Hugo and a small glimpse of alllll the confetti! (Photo by the awesome Amy Davis, who was covering this event for The Sun!)

Cary, Dean and Hugo: Men at work.

Making a New Year's Eve party hat.

 

So, quite accidentally, I'm already well ahead of myself when it comes to the season of museums. Yay!

Next on the list: Hopefully meeting up with Beth for the "Play, Work, Build" exhibit at the National Building Museum; hanging out with Stacey and Hugo again at the Visionary Art Museum; meeting up with my sister and her kids at the new Children's Museum at the national harbor, and locally, the Walters Art Museum, the B&O Railroad Museum (otherwise known as the Train Museum) and more Maryland Science Museum -- because that place is so awesome, we bought a membership!

Lester and I did set goals for the year (not resolutions. Goals.) and one of them is to continue to find fun, enriching things to do as a family. I'd say we're off to a pretty good start.

2013 -- Bring it.