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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy 15-months, babies!

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

Seriously -- how did this happen!?

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

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

More later.

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

Twin Twilight Zone or Why I Must Be Catnip

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guess I'll have to wait and see.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A black eye? Lordie.

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

A good weekend, both out and in

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boys walk; boys fight. Mommy gets it all on tape.

At long last, I finally got video of the boys walking. It's been weeks since they first learned to walk, so they're much more adept at it than they were in the beginning. So it's a little misleading for this to be the first ever viewing of their walking skills. But it's still cute.

Things to note in this video:

1. Dean's dogged attempts to steal whatever Cary has.
2. Cary's attempts to get away from Dean (scooting on his butt).
3. Dean seemingly taunting Cary (even though I doubt that's what he really was doing).
4. How Cary has figured out that if he can't get back whatever Dean has stolen from him, that he can just get up and get something else. (Smart boy!)
5. Yes, I let my children walk around with the toothpaste and the saline spray bottle. And what of it?! Look how happy Cary is to have the saline spray! He even pretends to spray it in his nose, while making a little sniffing sound! See? It's a learning tool!!

Uhhhhs and dahhhhhs

One thing I was not prepared for about being a parent was how extreme the ups and downs would be. And I don't mean from one month to the next, or one milestone to the next. I mean from one moment to the next.

Yesterday when I got home from work, my two babies were on a warpath. They were screechy and whiny and refused to eat their dinner. They threw food on the floor and cried because bananas were not on the menu.

They only nominally enjoyed their bath -- usually a highlight of their day -- and one baby pooped in the tub (a different baby than last time, mind you) causing Lester and me to have to corral two soapy babies on the bathroom floor, while he cleaned out the tub, washed off the tub toys, ran new bath water and started all over again. The starting all over again sparked a cacophony of protests and wailing, as they were having fun crawling naked on the floor and getting into all the things they know they shouldn't. And it sent the whole rest of the night into a downward spiral.

At 2 a.m., Cary woke up screeching. He wanted me to pat him on the back and/or hold him all night, and I obliged for a while,with both activities, but at 3:30, it was time for me to get some sleep -- and him, too, for that matter. So I let him cry until 4:15 when he finally petered out.

Needless to say, this morning, I was thinking, bleary-eyed and jittery, "This parenting thing is a serious DOWN."

And then, while playing with toys on the floor this morning, Cary and Dean discovered a little Playskool lion. Immediately, Cary started waving the lion in the air, singing, "eeemum-mum-ay," which is his way of singing the hook from "The Lion Sleeps Tonight," one of the boys' absolute favorite songs. Dean saw Cary singing and joined in, waving his arms from side-to-side, saying, "mum-mum-mum." Then they both looked toward the iPod dock, and at me, and back at the iPod dock, as if to say, "Play it Mommy!"

I put the song on the iPod, and Dean wanted to be picked up, so he could dance with me. "Uhhhhh?!" he said, looking adorable. I picked him up and he grinned so sweetly, I couldn't help but shower him with kisses. Then Cary began pulling at my pants leg, pleading "Uhhhh! Uhhhh!" so I picked him up, too.

Picture me with two big baby boys in her arms, swaying to the music, grinning wildly, singing, "A wee-mum-mum-mum-a-way." We danced and spun around and sang. I kissed them and they giggled. Cary rubbed his thumb and pointer finger together, imitating snapping. Dean laid his head on my shoulder, and his hair smelled delicious, like sleep and coconut oil and little baby.

The boys were so happy, they couldn't stop smiling. And I was in what can only be described as parent heaven.

They were crushed when the dance-a-thon had to end so I could go to work -- even though I played the song twice -- but I know I really made my sweeties happy this morning. And isn't that all we want, as parents?

On my way to my car, I thought, "This parenting thing is a major UP!" And I didn't even really feel tired all day at work, despite the night we had.

Now I know for certain that parenting is filled with uhhhs and dahhhs -- sometimes coming one behind the other, fast and furious, without warning. But the good news is the uhhhs will come. And boy are they sweet.

Two babies, two brownies. Twice the craziness, half the patience

Since I last wrote, Cary has decided that he must wake up at 6:15, or 6:00 or even 5:45 a.m. and whine until we're worried he'll wake Dean. So then we put him in our bed for a few minutes or half-hour or so, because I don't get up until 6:30, and he either whines the whole time to get down, tries to pull everything off the nightstands or sometimes -- gloriously -- goes back to sleep!
He is totally adorable in our big bed, swallowed up by pillows, but seriously, I cannot make a habit out of this! The problem is, the alternative is getting up and getting ready for work when HE decides it's time to get up. Either way, the 14-month-old wins. How is that possible?

Also, since I last wrote, Dean has become even more of a handful than he ever was. He is willful, obstinate, defiant and angry. He throws toys when he's mad (which is a lot); he takes his anger out on Cary. He only wants to do what he wants to do at all times. And if you don't do what he wants, watch out! The other day, Lester leaned in to kiss me, and Dean pushed his face away from me as hard as he could, and then yanked my face by my chin to face him. At first, we weren't sure if what we thought happened had really happened, so Lester leaned in to kiss me again, and Dean did it again! My 14-month-old is possessive and jealous, and hits me when he's mad. Helllo...I'm in an abusive relationship!!

Also, Lester and I went to the doctor and discovered that -- Praise the Lord -- there's only one baby in there! Thank God. Seriously. Everything seems to be just fine in there, and we saw the little gummy bear waving its little nubs around. So, I guess I can no longer be in denial. There it is, in black and white, with a little frantic flicker of a heartbeat and an EDD of February 28.

Meanwhile, I've been getting snippy with folks, which is really not in my nature. I wrote a mean comment to a Baltimore Sun editorial, and posted something highly judgmental on a friend's Facebook status. The boys were so insane tonight at dinner, I had to have TWO brownies after they went to bed to chill out. Yes, this was a two-brownie night.

Will I need three brownies after February 28? Something tells me I absolutely will.

Cats on a Hot Tin Roof

In "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof," a whole lotta crazy shiznit happened because it was so darn hot outside.

I feel like my life is imitating that movie/play, except I have TWO cats and the hot tin roof is my entire house.

It has been like 1 million degrees here for the past week or so. It is so unbearably hot that summer camp programs have been closed and health officials have been warning people not to do anything outdoors if they can help it, even go to outdoor swimming pools. The air quality is so bad, people have been dropping dead. It is HAWT.

We have air conditioning in the house (this is something that has to be said, because many old rowhouses like ours in the city don't), but I think the heat has simmered its way into my house and melted the babies' good sense.

Those two acted like pure fools this morning. I mean CRAZY. Remember that song "Insane in the Membrane?" Yah. That's them.

It started the night before, actually, when Cary woke up at 10 p.m. and proceeded to holler -- and I do mean holler. We tried a bottle - nope. His lovey - nope. Diaper check - all clear. Orajel - smacked his lips and smiled, but went right back to hollering. Finally, I had to sit with him in the rocking chair and hold him for about 30 minutes, and he calmed down enough to go back in his bed, quietly.

At 10 after 11, he was at it again. This time, we let him "work it out," which took until sometime after midnight. Throughout this ordeal, Dean never seemed to actually wake up, but he tossed and turned and groaned a lot.

I prayed the interruption in sleep would mean Cary wouldn't wake up until at least 7 this morning, but he was wailing -- really, wailing -- at 5:55 a.m. And this time, Dean decided to just forget about trying to sleep. So he was up, too.

Needless to say, both were exceedingly tired. Lester had to leave at 6:30 a.m., which is unusual, so I had to handle both babies myself this morning and get ready for work.

Let me just say that those two tiny terrorists took meltdown to another level. There were more tears today than I've seen in weeks! They flailed about on the floor; they threw Cheerios at me; they tried to kill one another over an infant's Tylenol bottle they unearthed from a drawer they KNOW they're not supposed to go in; they wanted me to hold them and they screamed when I did; they wanted to eat, then NO! No! NOOOOOOOO!!! they HATE eating!!

It was mayhem.

At 7:45, when the soft music, the rocking, the kisses, the distractions, the snacks, the toys and the pleading with them all failed miserably, I poured them some milk in bottles, marched them up the stairs and put them back to bed.

They were out in 10 seconds.

I then proceeded to collapse on the couch, intending to rest for a few minutes before getting up to finish getting ready for work. Instead, I was in a coma until Michelle knocked on the front door at 8:30 to start her day. Needless to say, I was late for work!

I swear, it has to be the heat making them this crazy. What else could it be? Oy!

Let's pray a cold front comes in ASAP. Either that, or we're moving to Alaska.

(P.S. The boys were crazy this morning, but boy did that 45-minute nap feel good!)

Feeling tired; feeling like a Mom

It's quiet here right now, as the boys went to bed about 15 minutes ago, and seem to actually be sleeping, as opposed to whining or "talking" to one another, or throwing their bottles and loveys out of the cribs.

Lester is reading Esquire magazine in his boxers, undershirt and black work socks, and I am stretched out on the bed thanking God for these few moments of rest and peace.

I am at that point where exhaustion is an understatement for how I feel during the day, and it doesn't help that it's been 100+ degrees here for the last few days. I came up the stairs today to bring the boys' pajamas up from the laundry and when I got to the top, I had to bend over and pant from the effort. I find myself more and more grabbing a pillow off the couch when I'm having floor time with the babies, trying to steal a few winks while they play (Which they hate! They come over and peel at my face, or poke my nose). And I am barely getting through the work days, so tired and spaced out am I.

I remember this feeling from last time, but last time I could get straight in the bed when I got home from work. Last time, I could nap my weekends away. This time, everything has changed.

I am a Mommy.

If I never really felt it before, I sure do now. I feel the way my mother looked to me on many evenings, after work, as she tried to get dinner on the table for the five of us, and straighten up before my Dad came home. I feel the way my grandmother looked when she would wash the dinner dishes while leaning her forehead against the cabinet door in front of her, just for that simple relief from having to hold her head up herself. I feel the way so many other women must have felt -- or currently feel -- as they find it within themselves somewhere to soldier through the days, despite bone-sucking exhaustion, and the pull of gravity more severe than it ever has been before. Seriously, couldn't you just fall to the floor sometimes, if you thought you could get away with it? And sleep for hours?

I think just about every afternoon at the office that tonight will absolutely be the night that I ask Lester to please let me disappear when I get home from work - just this once - to sneak in a little nap, while he handles dinner and bath time himself. But every afternoon, it never fails, I come home, see those two little smiling, peanut-butter or banana-smelling faces, scoop them up, give them a thousand kisses, and by the time that's over, I know there's no way I'd miss a night with them just because I'm tired.

So I soldier through. Because that's what Mommies do.

And I don't think that's something I'll ever get tired of.

Vacation/reunion download

We got back from vacation on Monday night, and I meant to blog yesterday, but I had so much to catch up on both at work and at home, that I didn't even open my laptop.

So I'm a few days late with the update, which means a few days removed from the drama, which means I can talk about the trip without using as many superlatives and exclamation points as I probably would have if I'd blogged any earlier.

But here's the summary:

Twin 14-month-old boys on a plane = AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! to the nth degree.

Twin 14-month-old boys in a strange place sleeping in uncomfortable pack n plays = No naps. Ultra early mornings (before 6 a.m.) and incredibly sleepy, whiny, cranky, unreasonable babies.
Also, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!

Family reunion = Wonderful.

Lobster with pounds of butter and lemon = Heaven.

Coming back to work and trying to get back into the schedule = A struggle.

So, there you have it in a nutshell.

Highlights, you ask?

Hmmm....well, on the plane headed to Boston, Dean screeched and screamed so much (and his screech is ear-splitting) that one woman began lecturing Lester about what "Dr. Spock" has to say about stopping babies from crying. Lester was really sweet, and even put Dean's 25+-lb. wriggling body on his lap, lying on his big ole belly, because that ole lady suggested he do that to calm him down. Dean. My willful toddler who is not, contrary to that lady's belief, an infant. That lady is lucky she wasn't sitting in the row in front of me, instead of in front of Lester, because I was in no mood to entertain her know-it-all-ness, and I would likely have said some things to her that I would have had to pray about later. Needless to say, lying Dean on his belly made him scream even worse.

Also, headed off the plane, another scrunch-face lady walked by and said to me, "He is a VERY unhappy baby!" in a tone that implied we were VERY bad parents, and Dean was sure to be a serial killer some day. I know my child has a wail on him, and he can keep it up for a reallllly long time if he wants to. But he is NOT unhappy, lady. And if he does become a serial killer, I hope she is his first victim.
(Is that wrong?)

Here we are in the airport, before all you-know-what broke loose. You can tell from the grumpy looks on their faces that it's jusssssst about to happen. This is what plane travel with no morning nap will get you.



Other highlights: Did I mention the pre-6 a.m. morning wake-up calls? Which consisted of Cary yelling, "Dah! Dah! Dah! DAH! DAAAH!" over and over again? I was so happy when he learned to say "down," but how on Earth could I have known that he would torture me so with it?

OK, there were some really good moments, I have to admit:

Cary LOVED seeing the planes in the airport. He now says "penh" for plane, and can spot one in the air when it is just a speck, miles away. He goes CRAZY for planes. And he and Dean also learned to say "buh" for bus, watching all the buses go back and forth in the passenger pick-up section of the airport. They totally heart buses. And trucks.

Dean wandered over to a random couple in the airport, and totally sat on the woman's lap, while munching on a Gerber biscuit. She was in heaven, and he was as content as a lap-cat. It was the funniest thing. It was like she was just a chair to him. When he was finished with his biscuit, he wanted nothing more to do with her.

Dean also met a girl in the airport, who he apparently decided was his girlfriend, because they kept holding hands. It was so cute.



Cary spent countless hours pushing the stroller around all weekend. This brought much enjoyment to people at the airport who found it hysterical that he (slight as he is) was able to walk. Some lady asked me if he was 9 months old! Ha! My sweetie is bony, but he's not that short. Gracious! He was serious about pushing that stroller around, though.

Cary and Dean were the hit of the family reunion. As the only twins for generations (I think there were some waaaay back), people were fascinated with them and so in love. And there were so many children that Cary always had someone to follow around, and Dean always had some willing 10-, 11- or 12-year-old girl to carry him around. They were both as giddy as pigs in dirt.
(And boy was it dirty out there at Houghton Pond. My boys have never been so filthy!)

Seeing all my cousins from my childhood and aunts and uncles was really great. In the spirit of nostalgia, here's a picture of me and my cousin Nikki from sometime around 1981. That's my cousin, Dru, sulking in the background.


Eating lobster was really, really great.

All in all, despite the madness, Lester and I are glad we went on the trip. It's not something we're likely to do again very, very soon. But at least we know we can survive, without killing each other. In fact, that was another good thing about the trip. We did not yell at each other or argue even once, and this was a HIGH-STRESS situation. So, there's more proof that I totally married the right guy.

As if I needed any more proof. :-)

Here's pics from the reunion:

Nana (who is the last remaining sibling of her family, the Wests, and the host of the reunion) with 5 of her 6 children, including my Mom (the shortest one).


Nana, holding her youngest great-grandchildren, Cary and Dean (who had had just about enough of all this picture-taking, thank you very much!)




Cary and Granddad
Dean and Nana and Auntie Pam


The boys and their cousin Sydney (who Dean must've thought was a goddess dipped in chocolate, the way he smiled and lit up every time she came in the room or anywhere near him.)


And, last, but not least, my brother, Rashad, who was the highlight of this family reunion, simply by being alive to be there. Praise God.

Pray for us!!

Tomorrow, we are taking our first long, out-of-town trip with the boys.

We are going to Boston to a family reunion being hosted by my grandmother, who I call Nana.

And we're taking a plane.

Yikes! And also ... Lord, have mercy.

We are leaving on a 12:30 flight, and we have figured out by working backwards that we need to leave the house around 9:30 to be sure we're on that flight.

Yes, you read that right. THREE hours before the flight takes off, we need to leave the house. And the airport is 20 minutes away.

Here is a partial list of the crap we are lugging: two Pack n Plays, two carseats, a double stroller, one big suitcase (for Lester's clothes and mine), one duffel bag full of baby clothes and necessities, one baby bag (to carry on the plane) full of baby clothes and necessities, one extra carry-on bag full of toys and random other stuff, like our boarding passes and a book. ("Yeah right, Tanika," I hear you all saying. "You really think you're going to get to read a book? Hahahaahahaaa!")

Did I say, "Lord, have mercy" already?

We're only going for four days, so I'm sure I've way over-packed, but I am so nervous about traveling with babies that I think it's better to be over-prepared than under.

It's a short flight from here to Boston -- in the air only 45 minutes -- so I'm hopeful they won't get too restless on our laps. But at the same time, because we're leaving at 9:30 (the EXACT time of their morning nap), they will probably not sleep at all tomorrow morning, out of excitement, and so, by the time the plane takes off, they might be going totally bonkers.

Again, pray for us.

The good news is: There will be lobster in this for me.

Musings

The babies are walking more and more now, all over the place! It's incredible.
At one point, they would bumble a little bit between adults, and only when prompted, but now, they'll just walk from place to place, toy to toy, or get up in the middle of the room and meander over to the couch or the front door or the kitchen, like ...well, like toddlers!

I can't get over it. These are the same babies who were JUST born, like two seconds ago!

They still have a ways to go before I'd say they are walking full-time; they still prefer crawling, and fall a LOT. But I know my days are numbered. Wow -- the time really does go fast.

I promise to get video soon. They are so funny: Cary with his Frankenstein-zombie walk (hands held in the air for balance) and Dean with his George Jefferson shuffle (walk, walk, dip, walk, walk, dip) they keep Lester and me cracking up. I love how much laughter these babies have sparked.

In other news, Cary and Dean also can make me wanna cry sometimes. Lordie.

Sunday, I had an Unbalanced Mommies group meeting over brunch (YES!) and Lester took the boys to the mall, because he needed some shirts. Poor Lester barely made it two feet into the mall before Cary started acting a FOOL, and would not quit, despite all Lester's attempts to placate him with Cheerios, yogurt or fun rides through the aisles of stores going, "Wheeee!"

And then, that night, Cary woke up at 12:30 a.m. I went in, resituated him in the bed, handed him Lovey the Monkey and covered him with a blanket. At 1:15, he was was awake again. I went in, patted him on his back for a few minutes until he quieted, and then stumbled back in the bed. At 1:30 he was up again, wailing. At 2 a.m., I caved and gave him a bottle. He guzzled that like a wino, threw the empty bottle out of the crib and commenced with wailing again. Unable to even pretend like I was going to get any sleep, I retreated to the guest room, with a book and read while he screamed. I was determined not to give in to his terrorism.

But at 2:40, Lester could take no more. So he rescued Cary, and put him ............ in OUR BED. Major, major no-no! But I didn't stop him. I was sick of the screaming, too, and I had no idea what else to offer.

At 3:30, I crawled back in our bed, next to the tiny, sleeping tyrant. But I could not sleep. I was so tense, imagining all the mayhem this breech in protocol could cause down the road. Will Cary think he can get in our bed every night if he just cries long enough? Will my child be scarred for life because I let him wail for hours while I read "A Visit from the Goon Squad?"

Finally, at 4:30, I heaved his little sleeping body onto my shoulder and carried him back to his bed. I was not, under any circumstances, going to have that baby wake up in our bed. After that, he slept until 7:30 a.m. and woke up happy and smiling like nothing ever happened.

Stinker!!

Last night, I had to handle the boys by myself during the nighttime routine because Lester had to work late. I was proud of myself because there was minimal tantrum-throwing during dinner and the bath time was going swimmingly, until one baby -- who will remain nameless -- pooped in the tub. I had to remove the babies and the poop, drain the tub, clean the tub and the tub toys, and then get them back in the tub, washed and dried, which I did, without breaking a sweat!

But when Cary started crying in his bed not 20 minutes after I put him down, I almost had a mini panic-attack. He wants to get in our bed, I thought. He is ruined for life! When Dean started chiming in with his own complaining, I really thought about sticking my head in the oven.

Thank God Lester came home and thought to get the Orajel, which he rubbed generously on Cary's and Dean's gums. Five minutes later, literally, total silence. They were knocked out. And they both slept the whole night.

So here is the moral of this very long post. I am a very good Mom, yes I know. But many times, I am made a much more awesome Mom when paired up with my partner, friend and co-parent.

Thanks, honey, for all you do for the boys, for me, and for our family. I am truly blessed.

Hair Woes

Today's confession:

I am reading black hair care blogs because I do not know how to do my own child's hair.
This is a problem because, if you haven't noticed, I am black.
Ahem.
Isn't that sad? I am having to troll the Internets for advice about what to do with my sweetie's hair. Sad, sad and pitiful.

In my defense, there are a couple reasons why:

My hair is quite different than "normal" black hair (if there is such a thing); it's a little less coarse and curls into loose-ish waves when wet. Dean's hair, like his Dad's, is more "normal black" (if there is such a thing), so I'm out of my element a little bit, as I'm used to dealing with my own hair-type, and, truthfully, only as a full-grown adult learned what products and styling methods work best for my own hair.

And since I knew I was having boys, I thought I could avoid the hair-care problem altogether. So I pretty much ignored their hair for months.

But Dean's hair requires actual "doing," and is much drier than my hair. So it's taken me all this time (plus some chiding from my sister Tahira, who takes much better care of her hair than I do) to realize that I have not been doing him any services by 1) washing his hair every night 2) not really putting any oil in his hair 3) not brushing his hair every day.

See Exhibit A (pre-haircut) of evidence of his dry, crazy hair:


Doesn't he look like he is saying, "Mommy, why do you have me out in public with my hair looking like this? Don't you know I need some MOISTURE in my hair? And have you heard of a thing called a BRUSH?"

Who knew??
I am a terrible mother.
But I am determined to do better.

Thus - searching the Internets.

One problem I'm having during my search is that most "traditional" black hair care products are not natural, and have a lot of crap in 'em that I don't want to put on my baby's head.

And when I search for "natural" hair care products and tips, I find a lot of advice for girls, not boys. I guess that's to be expected, but it's clear (I've come to learn) that my son's hair needs attention -- maybe not for styling, but definitely for general care. I can't believe that other parents of black boys aren't in need of more information to help in this area. Where are the websites for boys? Could it be just me who is clueless? Maybe everyone else just knows what to do already. I dunno.

Anyway, I am determined to do better by my little baby, especially now that we've gotten his hair cut and you can really see how dry his little scalp is. Poor pumpkin! Mommy's gonna do better!! You just wait.

Meanwhile, I wonder if I should be doing anything differently with Cary's hair -- which is different than Dean's and Dad's, but not quite like mine either (since he's a boy). Perhaps I should stop ignoring his hair, too?

Sigh. One day I'll figure it out, I suppose. By then, pray my poor children haven't gone bald.

Words and sounds of the Davis boys

Since I don't keep a traditional baby book, I need to post here the exciting things my children can do. Walking (a little bit) is exciting, but nothing is more thrilling to me than hearing them begin to verbalize more and more. One day, I'll be able to have a conversation with my sweeties and know what they're thinking! (Until they become teenagers and lock themselves in their rooms, armed with iPods and earphones)...

Until then, here are some of the words and sounds the boys say and/or mimic:

Dean

1. Bbbbbu = ball
2. Zhhuu = shoe
3. pooooo = spoon
   
4. Deeeee = Dean
5. cap-cap = clap clap (from Skippyjon Jones)
6. uh = up
7. dah = down
8. Dada = Daddy (and sometimes Mommy)

• ah-AH = uh-oh

Cary

1. Nana = banana
2. shoo = shoe
3. poon = spoon
4. boon = balloon
   
5. dan = fan
6. man = man (or woman, or boy or girl)
   
7. Dee = Dean
8. Dada = Daddy and Mommy, interchangeably
9. brruh = brush
10. boo-ruh = toothbrush
11. cap-cap = clap clap (from Skippyjon Jones)
12. uh-nuh = hello! (holding any oblong object up to his ear)
13. uh = up
    
14. dah = down
    

• cak cak = quack quack (duck)
• brrmm brrrm = tractor or car
• boom boom = Chicka Chicka Boom Boom
• mamamamama = "Mama, Mama, Mama" from the book "Please, Baby, Please"
• ah-ah-ah-ah-ah! = monkey sound
• eeemum-mum-mum-ay = "The Lion Sleeps Tonight"
• (growling) "Grrrdah" = when he sees my Dad (Granddad), because he has a gruff voice
• ah-AH = uh-oh
  

Keep up the good work, boys!

It seems as if Cary is more verbal right now than Dean, but Dean is holding his own. Also, Dean is way more physical than Cary. He can crawl all the way up the stairs unassisted, whereas Cary cries at the bottom of the stairs for someone to carry him (divo!)...Dean also has learned how to climb up both the little ladder and the slide on the climbing toy we got them for their birthday. Cary just looks on in envy.

So, the boys will do things in their own time, at their own pace. One thing I am proud of about myself as a parent is that (at least in this one area) I am pretty level-headed about that fact.

Meanwhile, note to Davis boys:

I know it might be asking a lot, but could you work on saying "Mama," when you see me, instead of Dada?!

Thanks! Love you!

Embrace the insanity

Dean's first haircut!



This weekend, Dean got his first haircut and both boys started walking!

They're still very unsteady on their feet -- and they only take 6 or 7 steps before falling into someone's arms, and then resorting back to crawling -- but they both did it! How crazy is it that they both started walking on the same day? This is probably the first milestone that they've hit together, or even close to together for that matter.

I'll try to get video soon, but it usually happens so fast, I don't have time to do anything but sit there and hold my breath and then it's over.

Also, we got Dean a haircut for the first time this weekend. I took totally cute pictures of him wailing, and then smiling at his newly-shorn look, but I left my camera at my mom and dad's! Grrrr!!

So, you'll have to wait for those pictures as well. Clearly, I suck.

(Edited 7/12 to show PHOTOS of the HAIRCUT! Whoo-hoo!!)

Here's Dean, realizing that he does NOT like the sound of those clippers:


When the very nice barber said, "OK, sweetie, all done!" he looked at her as if to say, "Really? You really mean it?" It was so cute!

And then, out of nowhere, he burst into this grin, like, "Check me out! I look smokin'!"


Which he totally does! With a haircut and 2.5 teeth, my baby boy looks like a whole new person. Such a big boy!


In other news, I have been feeling pretty down about the news I reported last week (right here on this blog!) because I really have no idea how this is going to work. So my friend Kelly sent me this video (letting me know what's in store for me and Lester, in terms of transporting three small children around):

Swagger Wagon

Hysterical -- this video definitely lifted my spirits! Never thought I was the mini-van type, but God clearly has other plans for me.

When Kelly sent me the link to the video, her advice to me was: "Embrace the insanity."

Good advice, Kel. I think I'm going to put that right up there on the list with, "Ignore the tray."

Update on C and D

Here's the latest on my sweeties.

Dunh-dunh-dunh-DUNH! DEAN FINALLY HAS TEETH!

His two top teeth came in (pretty much at the same time) this week! Yay! Unlike with Cary's big rabbit teeth, you still can't really see Dean's unless he's laughing or grinning really wide, but they're there. Clear as day.

So now the tooth count in our house is:
Cary = 4
Dean = 2

Yay! My child will not be toothless for life (as was my fear).

Dean also took a few tentative steps today!!! It was more of a shuffle than actual steps, but he propelled himself an inch or two forward while upright, so I say that counts! Walking cannot be too far away now, folks. Ack!

The boys have a new push toy my sister gave me that used to belong to their cousin Russy. It's hysterical because it's also a ride-on toy, so one can ride while the other pushes. They find this INFINITELY enjoyable. And I love watching them play together. It makes me feel all warm inside.

Speaking of my sister, she took this video of Dean and Cary dancing at my mom's house the other day and it is sooooo funny. Please check out these two dancing machines! Especially Dean and his "slow groove." LOL!




I have started giving the boys spoons at dinner, to start getting them used to utensils. Even though I know we're a long way off from them actually using the utensils, I'm told it's good to start getting them acquainted with the idea.

Cary enjoys when I help him scoop a little food up on the spoon and then steer the spoon in his mouth. He finds this hysterical. Dean, on the other hand, will not let me touch his spoon, his hands or his food (which he throws on the floor). It is soooo frustrating! The only way I can get him to eat is to "hide" real food inside a scoop of yogurt. But this is not teaching him to eat his dinner -- and it's giving in to his desire for sweets, which I didn't want to do. But oh well -- what's the alternative?

Cary and Dean are now able to follow simple instructions, such as "Hand Mommy the shoe," or "Find your book," or "Lie down." This is awesome, as this clearly means we are not far from being able to say, "Go downstairs and get yourself some cereal so Mommy and Daddy can sleep in."

Can't wait!

Shocked. And awed. And shocked some more.

I haven't posted here in awhile, mostly because I have been in a total blur.

I wasn't even sure if I was going to post this, because I haven't shared this with even very close friends yet, so it's a bit unfair to share it with strangers. (Well, technically, this blog is really my thoughts for ME, but other people do read it, soooo...)

Anyway, here's the thing:

I am pregnant.

Just typing those words seems CRAZY.

I am pregnant.

This may not sound like a big deal, but consider this:

1) Cary and Dean came into this Earth with -- how shall we say? -- help. Yes, very expensive help. Lester and I needed this help, because we were given the impression that we could not conceive on our own - or at least that it was very unlikely that we could conceive on our own.

2) My twin boys - TWINS - just turned a year old! They won't even be two-years-old yet when this one is born. Lord, Jesus. Help me.

3) I was on the fence about whether or not I even wanted another child. In fact, I was sitting on the fence, but 3/4 of my body was hanging on the side of "No, we do not want another child, are you freaking kidding me?" Lester was much more pro-procreate, but I told him that I would not even THINK about it until Cary and Dean turned 3. THREE. Not ONE, people. THREE.

I am seriously shocked. And I have known since Friday (it's Wednesday), so you would think the shock would have worn off some. But nooooo. I am still utterly and completely shocked.

How in the hell? And also...WTF?

I'm sure I will be happy at some point. After all, babies are a blessing. And God has clearly decided to bless us in a huge way! After all, we prayed and prayed and prayed for one baby and then we got twins. And now...SURPRISE! A third.

But right now, we are both reeling trying to figure out how we will make this all work: financially, physically, practically, emotionally, etc.

Who will watch THREE kids during the day?

How the HELL will we pay for that? We're broke now as it is!

How am I going to do this?

Is this fair to poor Cary and Dean?

How will my marriage survive three babies under age 2??

I could go on and on.

Anyway....there's my news. I have more to post later about the boys but I had to get that out first.

I will be taking all sympathy cards. LOL!

(P.S. New baby, if you're reading this years from now, please know that Mommy and Daddy both LOVE and WANT you tremendously! Blame this on the hormones! :-) )

Two summer colds! One sleepless night.

Dean came down with Cary's summer cold last night, and the draining sinuses woke him up out of his sleep (believe me, this is a big deal, as Dean almost never wakes up at night), not once, not twice, not three times, but four -- FOUR -- times!

Of course, his wailing woke up Prince Lightsleeper, and so Lester and I spent the night going back and forth between their cribs, wiping their noses, re-situating them on pillows (to help with the draining), handing them their loveys and covering them up with blankets.
This went on from about 11 p.m. to 2:30 a.m.

I resorted to giving them 4 extra oz. of milk to help ease them back into sleep. Let's hope that doesn't come back to bite me in the butt.

This morning, when the boys woke up, I was worried they'd be in rotten moods, but they were just as sweet as could be, even though their runny noses seem to be getting worse, not better. Poor little things. WHEN DO THEY LEARN TO BLOW?? Ugh!

In fact, the only rotten mood in the house - was mine, apparently.

I'm drinking coffee now (which I rarely do; I'm a tea girl) so let's see if it helps improve my attitude a little bit.

In the meantime, I'm re-thinking our weekend plans to go to my Mom's and go visiting my Granddad and Lester's aunt. Two sick babies in our own house is bad enough. In someone else's house? That might be enough to make me sick!

Summer colds, shoes and time-outs

Cary has a summer cold.
It's not keeping him down too much, thank goodness. He's still the same affable, giggling baby, but with a little less pep and a lot more snot.
His sniffles kept Michelle from taking the boys to the zoo this week (well, that and the fact that it was 96 degrees and rainy), but they seem to be having a good time in the house, playing and dancing and learning to crawl up the stairs. Yes, my boys have learned to crawl up the entire set of stairs.
Lord, help us!





In other new things, Dean has learned to say the word "shoe." He says it with his lips puckered, so it comes out more like the way we'd say Zsa Zsa Gabor, or Zhu Zhu pets.

"Zzzhuu?"

And he always says it just the way I typed it, with a question mark at the end. "Zzhuu?"

Picture him trying to put my shoe on his little foot and going, "Zzhhuu?" It's the cutest thing.

What's not cute? Cary and Dean have decided that they will only eat foods they can feed themselves -- have I written about this already? I feel a sense of de ja vu -- and so dinnertime in our house is now infinitely messier and longer and nerve-wracking for Lester and me.

It's nerve-wracking for Lester because he is mess-o-phobic, so the food on the floor and in their hair and thrown against the wall drives him nuts. It's nerve-wracking for me because I cannot imagine how in the world they're getting enough to eat. Dean, especially. Cary actually eats the little pieces of food we put on his tray, and he'll also allow us to spoon feed him a few spoonfuls, on top of what he's able to get in his mouth himself.

Dean, on the other hand, eats maybe three or four pieces of food and throws the rest on the floor, methodically, one tiny piece at a time, or in a grand, sweeping motion. But he won't allow us to spoon feed him at all. At. All. How does he sleep through the night, hungry? Urgh!

And here's the big news of this week: I have had to institute a mini Time Out for the babies when they insist on doing things like pulling the outlet covers out of the walls, hitting me or each other, spitting or throwing things, despite my admonishing.

Time out for 13 month olds? Who knew?

When they insist on being, well... being 13-month-olds, I firmly tell them "No _____," (fill in the blank with "hitting," "spitting," "being mean to your brother," etc.) and then I put the offending toddler in the Pack 'n Play and walk away to continue reading or playing with the other baby. 30-seconds of this is enough to send said toddler over the edge, back into compliance.

I never imagined having to use time-out on babies this young, but I really had to start doing something. They can get out. of. control. Little crazies!!

Confession: I always feel sad for the poor little baby wailing in the Pack 'n Play, but what I love the most about this age is that once I take them out, hug and kiss them and get back down on the floor with them, they're all smiles again. Like nothing ever happened.

I wonder how long this no-pain kind of discipline will last.