No Glasses and Non-Stop Lucy

Oh it's been the usual flurry of activity around here.


First Scrabble game with my daughter. I have dreamed about this day.

Did I tell you we got a composter?

We got a composter. I am a crazy composter now. Did you know you can compost match sticks? Human hair? String? Well now you do. It feeds the crazy animal in me that hates wasting anything. I swear in my former life I must have been a child of the depression (right now Erin is reading this and thinking about the fact that I have been known to save and freeze a single strawberry--for smoothies).

The big kids and I enjoyed a rare outing of just the three of us last week, as we concluded spring break (which must be the biggest misnomer in the history of ever). We explored a new playground and can I just say that taking two big kids to the park is my new version of a spa day? So relaxing (comparatively speaking).

I also got a sitter this week so I could take Leo to the opthomologist (no glasses needed--I'm a little surprised but relieved). Leo, on the other hand was bummed, and so disappointed he actually followed the doctor into his office asking, "Where are my glasses?" (Peter Parker wears glasses, you know). In spite of the crushing news that he did not need his vision corrected, Leo was his usual amazing self at the doctor (not even fussing when his eyes were dilated). When I returned home one baby was napping peacefully (cough, cough, Harry).

One, was not.

Why nap when you can eat Mommy's takeout lunch treat (thank you, Chipotle gift card). And she didn't even know she liked guacamole.

Lucy. Oh, Lucy. At some point you will read this and please know that I say this with all the love in my heart that when I put my head on my pillow at night, it's the not the waves I hear crashing (like after a day spent at the ocean)--it's the sound of your voice. The screeching, the squealing, the whining, and of course, yes, the laughter. It's you, with your unabashed loquaciousness, your 110 miles an hour way of being, it's your has-to-do-things-your-way-OR ELSE. It is your Force of Nature self, (yes, in all of its cliche glory, it fits you to a Capital T.)

But of course there is the flip side.

I was SHOCKED that she sat for a full dental cleaning last week.

She can also be incredibly agreeable and helpful. She looooves to help. "You got it!" is her response to almost every chore type of request (she loves to retrieve the broom from the mudroom, for example, or clear her dishes from the table). Recently I asked Ellie to get me the iPad from upstairs and a few minutes later, down padded Lucy, "Here you go Mommy!" she said, her face, beaming with pride. There was Ellie, a few feet away looking sheepish: "Well, she's very responsible!" she offered.

The hours between 6pm-6:30pm continue to be the most trying (dinner is over, babies are winding down by winding up, or so it seems).

Good thing I employ one of the best toddler yoga teachers around.

Bedtime does of course eventually come. Listening to Harry and Lucy chat in their cribs, as Lucy asks Harry "How old are you going to be on your birthday, Harry?" (We've been practicing this question with them for the upcoming big day). He replies, "Fwee!" And then she counts, "One, three, seben, nine, eleven, TWENTY!" 

And just like that, all the screeching and whining falls away.