The Road to Wellness, Edging Toward "Big Kids," Hearing Harry, Still Can't Shut Up About "Frozen" and Transcending It All

I've made a sort of unwritten rule not to talk about sickness here because really, no one wants to hear about your cold, right? Sufficed it to say that fifty percent of our house was felled by a nasty virus this week, to the point that Ellie sounds like she's got quite the serious two-pack-of-Marlboros-a-day-habit and I took my first sick day from work in three years. Poor Ellie has missed school all week and been (understandably) miserable and cranky and let's just say I think I may have glimpsed a view of tween/teenhood and I am afraid. Very afraid.


Looking not so tween/teen and also, pre-sickness. My Little Yentas. It might just be time to introduce Ellie to "Fiddler on the Roof."

So, yes. Hard week. Mercifully, I'm just starting to feel like myself again. It's an amazing thing really, how the body (blessedly, usually, ideally) fights off illness. Obvious but true statement of the day: As terrible as it is to not feel good, it makes getting better that much more sweet. The thrill of realizing that filling the dishwasher again is not a crushing blow but something you can actually accomplish--that is a welcome relief.

But I am living in FEAR that the babies twins are going to get sick. Please. No.

And of course, with sick kids ALWAYS come the work deadlines. Yesterday I had to stay late and called home to check on Ellie. When asked if I could bring anything (I was thinking something along the lines of Popsicles), her response was "I just want Yooooooou! I want you to come hooooooome."

Insert knife, into heart.

You will happy to learn that all was forgiven when I arrived home (after dinner but well before bed time) with vanilla ice cream. Ellie did make one request: "Is it OK if I sleep in your bed? It makes me feel more secure." Then, crossing her arms she said, "I'm sorry if I don't know what secure means." 


She felt better in the morning. Well enough, even, to make them a little bed in the living room.


Lucy was insistent that Harry take a Goldfish. No was not an option.

These two. Two and a half years old. Technically closer to three years old than two. Preschool is on the horizon. I continue to call them babies but see glimmers of kids, kids who understand and can be reasoned with, who show empathy and real problem-solving skills, on a daily basis.

Don't worry. They also still make me smack my forehead and want to tear my hear out on a daily basis.

Harry, who hasn't been much of a talker until pretty recently is suddenly busting out with new words and sentences every day. It's such a sweet and welcome joy to have him bound over to me, barreling his hard little skull into my belly and exclaim, "Buzz! I found Buzz [Lightyear-pictured above]." Admittedly I could do with out the barreling skull, but hey, he means well. He is such a little snuggler.

I'm still not quite accustomed to his little voice. I'll hear chattering away in the car or in the corner while he snaps Duplos together ("I did it!), a sentence or two, and I feel momentarily disoriented--Leo, Ellie, Lucy: they talk constantly-our house is L-O-U-D. I can recognize everyone's voice in a heartbeat (OF COURSE) but who is that one? Why, it's Harry!





File this one under, they're not really babies anymore: The other morning Lucy woke up crying around 4 a.m. It was (of course) dark as night outside (anything before 5 a.m. is night in my book). That's when I whispered to Lucy that it was still nighttime and she needed to go back to bed. And you know what? She Did. I couldn't believe it either. See what I mean? Glimmers of reason. And I do mean glimmers.


Yes, yes. We eat a lot of Goldfish in our house. Probably more than we should.


Four way ball (they roll it to each other). It lasts for all of 2.3 minutes but those are beautiful, gleeful minutes.

In the midst of the Daily Din I think you all know that I do my best to recognize those "transcendent moments," you know the ones, they make you, just for a brief few minutes even, rise above the chaos and havoc and incredible noise and clutter and overwhelmingness of it all. We had one this morning and you might not be surprised to learn that it had to do with "Frozen", a movie which has provided me with a seemingly unending amount of pleasure. Not to get too fruit ball on you all but so many parents I know have spoken of how they love it as much as their kids and they've loved loving the movie along with their children, all of which sounds pretty transcendental to me: A shared joy. A break from the monotony.

Back to this morning. Everyone was finishing up breakfast and I remembered that I'd just read that "Frozen" had a DVD release date (there's a part of me that doesn't want to own it because I know that once we can watch it any time it will no longer feel special). But the big deal for us is that when it's on DVD the babies twins will be able to see it-they might be edging toward kid-dom but I was not quite ready to brave a feature length film with them, so they have-gasp-yet to see "Frozen." And of course Erin, who has not yet had the pleasure (you know you want to see it Sweetie) will benefit from the March release.

The kids were mildly excited at the DVD news but I don't think we will really care until they can hold it in their hot little hands. Ellie then suggested we show the babies the clip she and I had watched the night before (laying in bed beside a coughing and despondent Ellie I thought "watching" one of her favorite songs would be a little treat and a break from our routine of listening to Pandora's "Soundscapes" station on my iPhone).

The next thing I knew, I had the laptop out, a cup of coffee next to me, Ellie snuggling on my lap, Leo across from me, and two babies the twins, sitting beside me in their high chairs, in complete rapture. It was the "Frozen" they'd been hearing so much about (quite literally, in the car, every time we go ANYWHERE it's Frozen soundtrack central).

Bliss. Peace. Everyone happy.

No picture.You'll just have to trust me on this one.

Fearless Babies and Frigid Temperatures

It was so cold here this morning (11 degrees) that I spilled coffee on my coat and it literally froze. The good news is, this frigid cold air appears to be excellent hair weather (it's a dry cold!), so, yay?

This was last week. Before it became January with a capital J.

We had a nice, long weekend. I firmly believe all weekends should be three days long, especially when one baby decides to rise at 9:30 on a Friday night screaming, feverish and pukey. Yes, poor Lucy was awake and miserable most of Friday night and into Saturday.

Of course by 5 a.m. Saturday  morning, she was snoring. Albeit, briefly and on my lap.

By Monday, Lucy had recovered. Strangely enough, no one would let me watch the inauguration (I snuck peeks as I switched the channels during some after breakfast "My Little Pony" most annoying show ever viewing). Leo did take great pleasure in marching around the house and saying "Obama! Not Mitt Romney!" (in case there was any question where his politics lie).

Leo is a Democrat, meanwhile Harry? Is just a really messy eater.

After lunch I had to get everyone out of the house (mostly me). Thankfully it was in the balmy 30s, the frigid temperatures hadn't hit yet so we headed to the park. My phone was being cranky so I don't have any good pictures of that outing. I know I sound like a broken record on this topic but it's just incredible to me how much the twins are changing from week to week. We went to this same playground three weeks ago with the grandparents and the babies were more tentative, fell down more, needed more hand-holding and steadying. On Monday? Harry somehow got his little meatball thighs up and over the "Recommended for age 2 and Up" steps and scaled the spiral slide, headfirst. Lucy followed close behind.

Taking all four of them to the park by myself is...exhilarating. I don't worry about Ellie and Leo is fairly trustworthy, but the babies? They literally toddle off in opposite directions. There's a constant need to weigh who's in more danger? Who's closer to falling off the side of the play structure or getting a little too close to the open gate. Letting them "go rogue" at the park is exhausting, more mentally but physically. But I liken it to going on a good, long run or writing something I'm especially proud of. I feel compelled to do it, kind of dread it, but once I've done it? I'm so glad I did. And seeing their little faces when they're "set free?" The best. And worth all the stress and mental anguish (ha ha).

The back yard (fully fenced) is admittedly, much more relaxing and toddler-friendly then the wide expanse of the park. While Lucy recuperated on Saturday and Sunday, Leo, Ellie, Harry and I had some fun out there (One baby? Easy peasy! Where's the challenge in That?). 

I probably hover more than I should (as much as I can, with two), always certain am I that when someone falls it will be on their head, in the worst possible way. Maybe in some ways, the good thing (one of the many!) about having two babies is you simply can't always be in two places at once, forcing the babies to be a little more independent, self-confident and self-reliant than they might be if there was just one of them. Also it forces mommy to not be such a helicopter.

Even Ellie noticed the twins' progress in beginning to master the intricacies of the dreaded  deck stairs (big! steep!). Ellie observed: "Harry can go up and down the stairs! He's like a teenager!"

Inside, it's warm and cozy. I won't even go into Lucy's new flirtation with "High chair? Who needs a high chair?"


That grin. Clearly, she is not to be trusted.

Eighteen, Wha?

Everyone says the first year of twins is a blur (YES). The second year is proving to be even quicker, if that's possible (though admittedly, the early part of that first year didn't feel all that speedy in the midst of round the clock nursing sessions and non-existent bedtimes).


I am still calling them babies. They are my last babies, therefore they will always be MY BABIES. Even though they wear shoes and walk around and do adorable "grown-up" things like crouch and kneel and jump.



And create chalk masterpieces.

Eighteen months feels somehow momentous, one of those markers or milestones, like one year.

It should come as no surprise that even as full-fledged toddlers, they continue to have very distinct, nearly opposite personalities.



But they are unexpectedly opposite.

While Lucy is very deliberate and careful in her movements and is the one more likely to listen to me when I tell her to stay by me, she was also the first one to learn to climb the couch and the one most likely to dive off said couch. Or at least threaten to.

Her speech slays me. Sometimes I look at her when she says these words and I am just...Who are you?

(In no particular order):

Hot dog
Harry
Bye-bye
Outside
Thank you
That's mine
Mama
Mommy
Ellie
Apple
Cheese

And of course, the favorite of every toddler: NO!

I'll stop there. You get the idea. No baby of mine has ever talked this much, this early. It's slightly...terrifying. I am already seeing the seeds of bossy-ness emerging in her (gee, wonder where she gets that...Ellie, Me, cough, cough). She definitely rules the roost in the Harry and Lucy dynamic, at least for now, as she thinks nothing of grabbing any toy, book, piece of food, wash cloth, out of Harry's chubby little hand. Also, she shoves Harry. Just for fun. The other day when I got home from work our babysitter reported that she'd pushed Harry off the couch. On purpose.

His reaction to her domination is either A) burst into tears or B) do a sort of shrug (if babies shrugged) and walk away as if to say Eh, not worth getting into. I see an even BETTER set of stacking cups over there!

She remains the happiest baby I have ever met. She just exudes positivity. She smiles and giggles and just wants to bebyyou. As in, on your lap or in your arms. Sometimes when I'm sitting on the floor she will just back up and sit on my lap, like it's the best, most natural chair in the house (it is, of course). In the mornings, when she senses I'm leaving for work, she gets very whiney and clingy and I often carry her around on my hip as I'm gathering backpacks and shoes and keys.

She loves little more than going "outside."

And loves to run down this driveway, reaching such velocity that she's taken a tumble. Or nineteen (see the scab on her nose from a crash two weeks ago that made her look like a junior prize fighter).


Harry doesn't have any words that we can yet understand, but he "chats" up a storm. Also? Somewhere he learned to breakdance. No joke. If Mickey Mouse or Barney or Elmo come on Pandora? Boyfriend busts a move and can cut some serious rug, complete with donkey kicks and twirls.

He's definitely a watcher. He takes in his surroundings and is far more sensitive to new things and people than Lucy is. If anyone new comes to the house? Rivers of tears. Until he gets to know the person and deems them harmless. He plays with toys and explores the house like it's A Job. In the morning, after a quick cuddle and a diaper change he is raring to go, off to blocks or stacking rings or his most favorite of all, the book corner. He has things to do!

No one. And I mean, No One can make a bigger mess than Harry does when eating.


Harry has an "old soul" quality about him. He's a thinker. A studier. Sometimes I will catch him looking at something, a book, a toy, one of the big kids' drawings, and I will meet his gaze and then he will just break into the biggest, meltiest, cheesiest grin. I can't wait to find out what is going on in that little head of his.

They are each other's punching bags (Lucy climbs Harry, tries to wrestle him or use him as a step stool). Sometimes he giggles and seems to want more...sometimes he bursts into tears and whines for rescue, escapes Lucy's "clutches"...and three minutes later he's back for more.

Many twin parents I've talked to say the dynamic between their twins was set early on. It will be so interesting to see if the one we have now continues. Lucy=boss; Harry=amiable follower.

They are roommates. Fast friends who still wait up for each other every night. I put Harry down first and sometimes he appears to doze off, but pops up squealing with glee when Lucy shows up for bedtime, five minutes later.

This week Harry and Lucy learned to give kisses on command. Big, sloppy, open mouthed kisses. They give them often and willingly and I melt and die every time I get one. Or two. I mean, is there anything better than kisses from two babies?

Kisses times two are almost making up for nearly a year of sleep deprivation.

Almost.

Because Fourteen Month Olds Need Shoes Too and Early Risings=Even More Olympics

Hello? Anyone there?

Oh, the days dawn early around here lately. It seems as though 5 a.m. is the new wake-up time for at least one baby and sometimes two. By 6 a.m. at least one big kid is up. Sometimes two. Which leads me to my question, which I think top scientists should be studying:

Why is it that children (babies are excluded from this) rise a good one to two hours earlier on weekends? Ellie moans and groans through her Monday through Friday mornings but come Saturday she is up with (often before!) the sun and the chickens and she is positively peppy. I mean, I know why she's so exuberant, she doesn't have to go to school or camp! But it's the early hour that I wonder about.

You think it's a cup. Harry knows better. In Harry's world, anything can be a phone!

Friday afternoon I got off work a little early and figured I would take advantage of the fact that with Leo and Ellie at camp, I wouldn't have to drag all nineteen children to the mall (Striderite=Proper measurement=Lots of wide shoes=Harry appears to be following in Barney Rubble aka Leo's feet) to buy Harry's First Shoes (sniff!).

Boy shoes usually don't excite me but I did a bit of poking around online and found these and well, how can you go wrong with the name?

Normally, I do what I can to avoid loading and unloading the babies and the Giant Ridiculous Stroller 2.0 in and out of the car, particularly on a 95-degree, humid, August day, but now that I'm back at work (again, sniff), errands with the babies are more novel than drudgery. So I thought this little after-work/pre-Big Kid camp pick-up would be a fun little treat for all of us. So I circled the parking lot amidst Harry's late afternoon meltdown and sweated my way through the folding and the unfolding of the stroller and the unbuckling and the buckling of two sweaty, semi-compliant individuals. You can imagine my surprise when I rounded the corner where the Stride Rite store was in our local mall, only to find the windows darkened.

The store had been closed for two months, the kindly Mrs. Fields manager informed me. Gah. That's what you get for doing all of your shoe shopping online, I suppose.

Still content to be barefoot at all times, Lucy cruises around on whatever object or human (or dog) she comes across. Ellie, an ottoman or an empty Zappos box all serve as perfectly suitable push toys. She does the stand and squeel, where she looks like she's about to take a step. But no. Meanwhile, her language is exploding. When you enter a room she says "Hi! Hi! Hi!" until you greet her back. She's been calling Erin "Mama" for weeks. The other day I was holding her while making Leo's scrambled eggs and I swear she pointed at the pan and said "hot," clear as a bell. Speaking of pointing, it's her favorite thing. She points all the time. Such a rude little thing, right? She's also finally picking up sign language. When I asked her if she wanted to "eat" this morning, she signed "more."

Both babies wave "Hi" and "Bye" like professional Hi and Bye Wavers. Sometimes it's two minutes after we've arrived or left, but hey, we'll work out the details eventually.

Lastly, and unrelated to anything I've just said (5 a.m. wake-ups, people. 5 a.m.) I just have to say again, how much I'm enjoying watching the Olympics with the kids. One plus side to waking at 5 a.m. on the weekends: Plenty of Olympic viewing opportunities, and hey, they're even live! Ellie and I watched some of the marathon, bright and early on Sunday (Harry and Lucy appeared disinterested and sloth-like Leo slept until an unheard of 6:45 a.m.). The night before, we watched another one of my favorite events (after gymnastics): synchronized diving. Ellie asked me what it was and I explained it was when "two girls jumped into the pool at the same time."

"Do they hold hands?" Ellie asked.

Man, do I love her.

Catching-Up

Leo and Ellie are officially addicted to Kidz Bop (Oy--don't ask--think teeny bopper music covers that are SO annoying that they are catchy and you find yourself humming them at all hours of the day and night). One of the songs on repeat contains the lyrics "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" (from the original, by Kelly Clarkson) and, well, sometimes I think if our little circus act had an anthem, that would be it.

I have one word for you. Coxsackie. See Harry's string of drool and grimace in the above photo? Yeah. We barreled through last weekend with as many distractions as possible, with outside play and a walk in the forest but for the most part, the babies were miserable from coxsackie. And you know what they say--when the babies aren't happy? Nobody's happy! (Actually, Leo and Ellie seemed blissfully unaware of all the whining and high fevers and night wakings and general misery--wish I could have been.)

Poor Harry woke up Saturday night absolutely hysterical, thrashing and arching and clearly in pain. Then, he and his eyelashes (see above) passed out.

But. What a difference a few days makes. Within a few days the babies were back to their old selves, cheerful and clear skinned (coxsackie brings an ugly, angry-looking rash).

Lucy's new favorite thing is to snack on a whole strawberry. She sees me getting them out of the fridge and goes nuts. She likes to hold it herself and be completely in control (hmm...wonder where she gets that?).

It came from the cabinet...

Ta Da!

I'm still not used to Harry walking. It's so funny to see this little guy and his miniature Frankenstein-like self staggering all over the house.

A rare moment of not walking.

And this little girl seems close too. She's doing the thing that Harry did, where she stands independently, puts her little arms out to balance (and grins a mile wide as if to say "Look at me! Look at me!") and then promptly plops down. Take your time Lucy. No, really. Take your time.

Breaking News

Me: Oh, Hi Harry. What did you do today?

Harry: (If he could, you know, talk):

Oh, nothing. Just LEARNED HOW TO WALK!!!

The Mantra + Ten

Thanks to those who expressed concern and made suggestions regarding my post about Leo and speech. As I said, it’s such a mixed bag, because some of Leo’s speech is so clear. It’s just that way too much of it is not. But in my rush to worry and fret, I forgot to mention one of Leo’s newest and perhaps sweetest phrases:

“Best Mommy everrrrr.”

I have no idea where he got this but he says it at least once a day (well, it usually proceeds me giving him something he wants (cheese crackers) or helping him with something (homework)) but I’m not going to argue. And it’s always followed by a hug and kiss. Erin and the other kids are also recipients of this:

“Best Mama/Ellie/Harry/Lucy everrrrrrr.”

I always follow mine up with “Best Leo ever!”
***

In other news, the babies turned ten months yesterday.

To celebrate, Harry started crawling and made a serious dent in his self-feeding skills (previously he’d very much been the I’ll just sit here and look cute and wait for someone to put the food in my mouth guy—really, who can blame him?). Go Harry!

Lucy celebrated by refusing to go to sleep and insisting on staying up with Erin and me all the way through "Mad Men." What the HELL Lucy? Not cool! This is the first time she has ever done this--let's hope it was a rare "I'm ten months old whoot!" event.

We are officially four days into my being back at work (because, you know, I’ve been sitting out by the lanai sipping cocktails for the last ten months and now I’m going to be doing actual work). But it’s true, it’s more work for everyone, this new deal, this working out of the home, and I have to give everyone credit, what they’re being asked to do is not easy and it sure is different.

Those leisurely weekday mornings of days gone by, those of the multi-course breakfasts for Leo (Mommy! I’m still hungry! I want to do yogurt and grapes!), Ellie in her pajamas until noon, watching “Rio,” the babies sleeping until whatever hour their little hearts desired (that usually wasn’t past 7 a.m. but no matter): those days are no more.

Two more tiny lunch boxes.

Even though the first day back felt like it was approximately 72 hours long and more than a little crazed (up at 5:15 a.m., out of the house by 7 a.m. with all four kids) I have to say, these kids are troopers and I’m confident that we will all adjust—dare I say thrive—as we acclimate to our new normal, just as we did when the babies were born and our world felt upside down and the words How Will We Ever Do This reverberated in my head just a little too often.

Things have a way of working out: Advice my dad gave me several years ago during a particularly tough time. I think of this little gem often and go back to this mantra, over and over, when I feel like life is just completely, absurdly chaotic and everything feels totally unmanageable (not that I’ve felt this way at all recently of course HAHAHA). Things feel impossible, undoable and then suddenly, we settle in. We find routine in the ridiculous. We laugh. We cry. We figure it out, little things to make life easier. Lunches made the night before, frozen dinners for the week. Do they kids really need baths every night?

The big kids know they have to carry their backpacks and lunch boxes into the house now since I have so many more things (two more lunch boxes, dirty baby clothes and diapers) to carry (though Ellie is still a fan of “Can you hold this Mommy?” when I have approximately nineteen other things in my arms/hanging on my shoulders.) The babies don’t need to be rocked and swaddled anymore, now they hold their own bottles (mostly, anyway—Harry I’m looking at you) and I can even sort of multi-task (clean up the kitchen, start lunches for the next day) while they drink their nightcap. At the same time, I try to lower my standards--even more than I already had!--the dishes and clean-up can wait. The nightly "To Do List" is overwhelming, but I remind myself to revel in those moments that I do have. Though I wish I could spend half as much time with the kids at night as I do making four lunches (for the next day). My goodness that is a job unto itself.

The night of my first day of work I was reminded of that odd sensation that I also recall from Leo and Ellie’s babyhood: of picking up my baby and realizing he smells like someone else. Someone with a different lotion or perfume or shampoo held him, maybe cradled his little head on a shoulder. For the first time, these little babies have a life apart from me.


But just as I knew would happen, this work thing? It makes the down time that much sweeter.

On Arguments and Differences and Pink for the Boys

Sometimes it feels like I spend my days negotiating. Deals are made. But Why? The "Whys" are adorable when they relate to the magical world around us. "Why do some clouds look like flowers and some clouds look like clouds?" Not so cute when I ask for coats and shoes to go on and I'm met with why? For what feels like the ninetieth time. The arguing is especially bountiful and brutal with my darling, inquisitive, and yes, beloved four year old.

Everything, yes, everything is a discussion. And yes, discussion is the polite word for it.

But I can't argue with any of this. Especially the "I am happy" part.

No arguments here either, nope. This is not a bad way to start the day.

Aw, but babies don't argue. I mean, not really.

And in non-argumentative news, somebody loves to feed herself. She already seems to have great fine motor skills and can pick up minuscule pieces of dust on the carpet (not that that ever happens because our house is immaculate I assure you). Side note: I've decided Ruby the dog can stay (she's developed a mind numbingly annoying habit of barking to go out, then instantly wants to come back in, then when you go to actually let her in she looks up at you with her smokey brown eyes and truly, if a dog could mock you, she would). But she can stay, because dogs eat all the food the babies drop on the floor and therefore I don't have to sweep (often). But I hope Ruby has spare pair of elastic waist pants because she's about to gain the old "toddler fifteen" (I swear she gained fifteen pounds after Leo started on solids and she never lost it).

But back to the eating. Others are, hmm...how shall I put this? Less interested in self-feeding? Perhaps his eyelashes are getting in the way? Then again, why would you want to feed yourself if you had someone to do it for you?

I know this comes as an absolute news flash to all but these babies are so different! Imagine that. They have such unique personalities and strengths. Once you have a child with delays who does nothing when they are supposed to, you sort of forget about milestones I think. Having two babies side-by-side I think it's impossible not to compare a little and that's where it gets interesting. Harry is strong, sits up like a champ but can't seem to wrap his head around picking up food and putting it in his mouth (he puts all kind of other things in his mouth). Lucy on the other hand, is fine at sitting as long as you have a hand right at her side for when she just tips right over. She loves to be on her stomach and has been spotted rocking on her knees so I'm thinking crawling isn't too far away. No rush Lucy, no rush.

While Lucy "caws," chortles, babbles and screeches, Harry is much quieter, though he does his share of vocalizations. He still does his deep little Donald Duck voice, but he's a fan of a high pitch scream, akin to a four year old girl who just saw a spider.

Did I forget to mention Lucy is also suddenly terrified of strangers? Bursts into tears at the face of a friendly little old lady at the grocery store. Cannot wait for Lucy to start at daycare in a month. That is going to be awesome. Harry, meanwhile, seems to be affable guy. Also, he flirts. Bats those eyelashes at anyone and everyone.


Speaking of Harry, he had a pretty bad diaper rash this weekend. (Is anyone still reading this? Have I bored you to tears yet?) Anyway, for some reason you can't use diaper cream or powder on cloth diapers (Erin wants to know what will happen if you do? Do the Cloth Diaper Police come to your door and issue you a summons? Yes, I'm pretty sure they do).

So when a rash develops, you have to use disposables, which I always forget to buy to have on hand just in case. We happened to have an extra Disney Princess (only the best for Harry) Pull-Up, size 4-5T. And it fit him. So apparently the inability to self-feed? Not interfering with the weight gain.

Six Months Later and Lucy is Still Trying to Eat Harry

Some things never change.

Harry and Lucy, two weeks old. (photo by Stephanie Willson)

Lucy and Harry, waiting for the doctor at their six month check-up yesterday. Note Lucy, moving in for the lick.

At yesterday's check-up they weighed in at 15.9 and 16.9 (Harry's the bruiser) so they've both more than doubled their birth weights. They're both 24 inches long, have the same head measurement (though I can't recall it) and interestingly enough, had the same temperature (97.6). Twins indeed. They're still wee but growing beautifully.

They've started "real" food. Sweet potatoes and peas.



Met with more enthusiasm by Lucy than Harry (not that you can tell by these pictures).

Lucy tried out a "real" swing at the playground.

(not pictured, Ellie, positively overcome with glee and wondering "When will Lucy get to play with me on the playground?")

They've gone for a spin in their new "big kid" stroller.

I'd say it was a hit.

They're still more likely to be seen in the giant ridiculous stroller. And as you can see here, they are positively miserable little babies with absolutely nothing to be happy about.

Yeah right.