Wherein Leo Confirms Best Big Brother Ever Status AND We Dance (in Public!)

Sunday night, Erin and I went to a wedding in Brooklyn.

When I say I can't remember the last time I dressed for a black tie event, I mean it. I had to borrow a dress (thanks Lisa!) and was a little terrified I was going to catch a scary disease from my aged makeup. I'm pretty sure I haven't worn any since before the babies were born. Don't judge. (Oh and by the way, I was reminded of why people wear makeup. It, um, kind of helps.)

Erin and I scrambled to get ready (someday I will not perform nearly every task in my life with a sense of urgency but for now, almost everything feels like it requires a fast-forward button). Ellie couldn't help but join in. No matter that children were decidedly (blessedly!) not invited to the wedding.

Ellie, at five years old, seems to instinctively know what black tie means. Or at least, her version. To wit: Velvet and lace gown with sash tied in the front, (adorned with a plastic sneaker pendant looped through the ribbon), topped off with red plastic pop beads and a fuchsia silk rose barrette. I should have hired her to be my stylist.

And of course, once her look was completed, she moved on to her next victim customer:



Aaaand...the finished product. Who is the best sport AND the best big brother?

Sweet Leo. That boy would do anything (and I mean anything, to the point that it's a little scary!) that Ellie asked of him.


I think he secretly loves all the attention and the care Ellie puts into building her "ensembles."


We clean up pretty well too, right?

Later, we headed into the city, hit almost no traffic, and arrived early enough to explore the incredible wedding site and the stunning views.

It was so fun to be out, dressed up (yes, I don't get out much, can you tell?). It's amazing how "good" it feels to wear a dress, heels, makeup. I forget sometimes, since my every day garb is, shall we, say a bit less formal. There's a whole other world out there that I often forget about, of grown up parties and events! Imagine that!

Here's a slightly different version of  the one I posted a few days ago. It's become one of my most favorite pictures of all time.

We had sushi and wine, I visited the "cheese bar" more than once (yes! my dream!). I tried not to embarrass myself too much.

And of course, what wedding isn't complete without tiers of Hostess Twinkies and cupcakes?

We danced. And danced. I can't remember the last time I danced in a place that wasn't my kitchen, in front of four giggling children. And I realized that the only reason I knew even half of the songs is because of Ellie's addiction to Kidz Bop (it is our unofficial soundtrack at home, sigh) and my inability to break up with Glee.

Oh and in between all of this there was a beautiful wedding ceremony, best wishes and congratulations, Josh and Nicole!

Even though we needed to take out a loan to pay for a baby sitter (how many sitters do you know who will watch four kids and put them all to bed?) it was totally and completely worth every, single penny.

Good Sports

Ellie, impatient with my tardiness (see tiny tip of Giant Twin Baby Stoller in bottom frame of photo that gets blame for said tardiness) on the way to Leo's school Halloween Parade (there were no photos of Trick or Treating this year).

As I reported, due to last week's hugely inconvenient and destructive storm, Trick-or-Treating was moved to last night. A week late. Can you imagine, as a kid, the enormity of this?

Thankfully, Leo and Ellie are still a little too young to get too up in arms about this. Leo's never really been a candy guy (though he did discover candy corn this year and asked for seconds which for him and candy is huge). Ellie on the other hand though, is a Candy Fiend.

Can I just pause to say that I wish, for the sake of all working parents (especially those that commute to and from ridiculously large cities to the suburbs--not naming names here--) that we could all just collective agree to make Halloween, say, the last Saturday in October? It would just make life so much easier. This year Erin had to work late and there was just no way I could take all four Trick or Treating by myself.

Which brings me to last night. There we were, with me upstairs, trying to get the babies to sleep (since daylight savings time they now want to go down at 5:30 instead of 6:30), Leo and Ellie are in the mudroom shrieking because "Someone's at the door! Someone's trying to get in!" (Um, yikes?) "They want to give us candy!" (Ellie is giving the play-by-play here, clearly because she's not quite down with the concept of Trick or Treating is when We give Them candy). Of course I responsibly turned the porch light off before I went upstairs (the universal sign for We Are Not Participating in the Trick or Treating.) And...of course people still knocked.

The hours between 5:30 and 7:30 are a circus at our house on a good night with the whole benign neglect (I hope) of the kids big eating dinner downstairs while I try furiously to get the babies down so I can catch the tail end of dinner and do baths and books with the older ones with my whole heart.

I finally got the babies to sleep and came downstairs to see what the racket was about in the mud room. Ellie kept asking if we could go trick or treating. I reminded her that the babies were asleep and she suggested we put them in the stroller. Not going to happen. Feeling terribly guilty about the fact that not only was our Halloween party an absolute and complete bust but the kids also missed out on trick or treating, I decided that it would be just fine for us to at least hand out candy.

Well. Bless their little hearts, you would have thought it was Christmas, Hanukkah and Halloween. Such. Excitement. The front door burst open and Leo and Ellie took their positions on the front porch, giant bowl of M&M's and Skittles in hand.

"I think I see someone! They have a flashlight!" Ellie exclaimed, jumping up and down. Nope. Car headlights.

"Trick or Treaters!" said Leo. Again, no. Just a middle aged couple taking an evening stroll.

And then. We had maybe six "customers."

I'm not sure if it was the fact that it was a little on the late side (but not really) of 7:30 or that it was, oh I don't know, a week After Halloween. But it was a slow, slow night. We did get a sweet dad dressed as a self-proclaimed "crazy dentist" (wearing the white pants, coat and rainbow afro and yes, I asked, and he really is a dentist). There was also, I kid you not, a 50-something (at least) woman trick or treating with her teenage son. Odd.

But still. Leo and Ellie could not contain their glee. And the lucky six that did grace our porch? They cleaned up, with handfuls of those Skittles and M&Ms.

And I hereby proclaim, officially, Halloween is finally over.

Roomies

Ellie knew just what she wanted to share at "show and tell" this morning:

(Ellie's daily report from pre-k)

Guess who are roomies now?


Harry and Lucy moved out of our room (sniff! haha kidding) into Ellie's old room in the hopes that I may sleep again. And Ellie moved into Leo's room. Yes it was quite the busy weekend around here.

Leo and Ellie seem to be enjoying it so far. As I told a gleeful Ellie, now every night is a sleepover!

Sometimes I Can’t Believe This is My Life (Or: It's a Good Thing They're Cute)

Do you want to know what the latest thing to make my heart race and blood pressure mount is? It’s not lost children or a near car accident (OK of course those things freak me out). Lately it’s been something quite mundane that fuels the adrenaline.

It’s getting the kids to get in their car seats to go somewhere. ANYWHERE.

At some point, a war was declared. They both want to sit in this seat.

Post Easter fest at daycare, 2009 (Ellie found the chocolates unbeknownst to me until it was clearly, too late).

And ironically, they both want to sit in the seat, that happens to be too small for either one (don’t worry, I ordered Leo a new one today). He informed me he wanted a pink one which, fine, expect I’m anticipating Ellie will not be pleased about this (read: JEALOUS) and perhaps a whole new war will begin.

What happens is this: They bound for the car and both try to sit in the same, pitiful, gray six year old car seat. There is nothing appealing about it except for the fact that they both want it. Whomever doesn’t get their tush into the seat fast enough pouts. If it’s Leo, he will often run to the back of the minivan, vault over the third seat and into the trunk, cackling all the way. Awesome. If it’s Ellie, she will sit on the little storage bin between the two front captain’s chairs and pout and whine and stomp. Equally awesome.

Tuesday I was almost late to Leo’s parent-teacher conference because of their little shenanigans and I assure you, I am onto them and anticipate this happening every.single.time.we.go.anywhere. If we have to be on time to anything I always leave extra early now. Did I mention on that Tuesday that it took them fifteen minutes to settle the argument of who would sit in that darn car seat?

At night, when I pick them up from school and it’s cold and dark and all I want to do is get home and unload the car and make dinner, there is Ellie, whining about she wants “that chair” and there is Leo, taunting me with his laughter.


During more peaceful car seat times (sidenote: poor Leo--you think he has a cold in that first picture?).
No amount of pleading works. Counting to five or ten seems futile. What I am almost always forced to do is physically begin to put one of them in their chair (which I assure you is hugely popular—NOT). They wiggle out, cry and insist they can do it themselves. Which they can. Eventually. Eventually being the operative word here.

What I wish for is two identical pink car seats but I just don’t have a spare $500 laying around (what two of those puppies would cost—I know, yikes!).

There was also discussion and both Leo and Ellie agreed that if they could have "Princess covers" on their respective car seats that then, they would sit in them and not argue. Well it turns out they don't make Princess car seat covers (which is pretty shocking since they make everything else Princess) and honestly if they did I might have a hard time actually buying them. I did briefly consider these but don't know if they would do the trick. I'm telling you, desperate times call for desperate, well, you know.

So free time is being spent trying to find a pink car seat covers online for Leo's old chair, which is soon to be Ellie's new chair (dang they’re spendy too, even on eBay, costing more than some car seats, even). Of course Etsy has stinking adorable ones. I did find a promising looking used one on Craiglist but am waiting to hear back if it’s still available (and you know how that goes).

I realize, in the grand scheme of parenting and behavior troubles this borders on absurd. In terms of writing this post as a part of “31 for 21” during Down syndrome Awareness Month, let’s just say Leo and Ellie have a delightfully typical sibling relationship, as illustrated by the Car Seat Ridiculousness of Fall 2010. In short, they love to drive one another bonkers (and me right along with them).

Whatever Gets You On The Bus

Leo’s creativity never ceases to amaze me.

But let me back up a minute. He asked to go downstairs to the playroom this morning before school and I agreed. He ate grapes and drank orange juice and played happily with his trains and Little People while I made breakfasts and lunches and a very large pot of coffee.

It started as many weekday mornings do, with Ellie calling to me from upstairs with the inquiry:

“Mommy, is there no school today?”

“Yes Belle, we have school today,” I answered.

A few minutes later Leo emerged from the basement with this ensemble:




In case you’re having a hard time making it out, it’s a stuffed snake, riding in a Build A Bear backpack (well of course it is!).

And yes, he wore this little get up on the school bus (not sure how they strapped him in but he practically skipped to the bus, so I call that a win). The bus lady’s giggle at the sight of Leo was pretty priceless too.

You know what? Whatever gets Leo on the bus, that’s what I say.

Free

It started out innocently enough.

A perfect, sunny Sunday.

Let’s paint the boat! I exclaimed, knowing full well where this would go.

And yup, just like I predicted, things got messy. And fast. But I think everyone agreed, these two had a blast. And in spite of how it might appear in the pictures, they did actually paint the boat. Eventually.


Am I the only one who has a hard time keeping clothes on their children? I’ve really given up, though since Leo is pushing six I do make him at least keep his underwear on. Usually.


Oh my goodness does this little girl look like her namesake. It makes me teary sometimes.
At the end of the long, hot, messy day, as the sun started to hang low in the sky but the heat was still blazing, I chatted with our neighbor over the white picket fence. She looked looked down at buck naked Ellie who was cooing to my neighbor's almost two-year-old, and paid me one of the biggest parenting compliments I’ve received in a long time, if ever.

“Your kids have such a great childhood. They’re so free,” my neighbor observed.

I sure hope so.

All Good Things

This morning, I feel like Ellie.

"I wanna go back to the hotel room!"

That was her refrain last night, all the way down I-95 and across the sparkling Tappan Zee Bridge, as we returned home from our annual weekend (one night, does that qualify as weekend?) sojourn to our beloved Mystic.

No one wanted the weekend to end.

Who would? Let’s see…lobster rolls at Abbot’s, exploring a local playground, swimming at the hotel pool for Erin and Leo while Ellie snoozed in the car followed by dinner with friends (fire roasted fresh clams and mussels washed down with chilled Rosé) topped off with a playdate with two of the most patient Jack Russell terriers I’ve ever met. Then it was back to the hotel room to sink into the multi-pillowed bed for a night cap of Mickey Mouse on-demand.

The next morning began with everyone’s favorite way to start the day: a breakfast buffet. Yes, that meant unlimited scrambled eggs for Leo and yes, his head almost exploded. Then it was more swimming at the hotel pool and on to the Mystic Aquarium, where Leo made a friend.


I know the second shot is blurry but I couldn’t help but include it. You see he’s getting tickled by the bird, who tiptoed behind his neck. Clearly, Leo adored the bird sanctuary, where you hold up a stick with bird seed and some kind of irresistible mush and the birds flock to you to snack. One of the aquarium volunteers spotted Leo and approached him with this trained bird who is exceptionally friendly and tame and well, I think the pictures say it all.

Another big hit was the beluga whale, who Ellie serenaded (sorry whale but you bring new meaning to the term captive audience) endlessly with her favorite song, “Baby Beluga” to. But the piece de resistance was the discovery of…wait for it…a pink baby beluga stuffed animal at the aquarium gift shop. I know! You can imagine the squeals of delight with that one. Ellie hasn’t put it down yet.

Late afternoon was spent at the Seaport. It was a cool but muggy, overcast day and we arrived so late that it was practically deserted, which was surprising and lovely. We rode on a steamboat and a horse drawn carriage tour of the grounds. Then the kids explored the excellent boat playground.

We made the mistake of arriving to the little children’s museum ten minutes before closing time. Leo was not happy to leave there and serious tears ensued, but we rallied.

All in all the kids were wonderful this weekend, really. I hate to sound so surprised but I am really starting to see a bit of a shift, with both of them. Leo still has his impulsive ways and likes to give me daily heart attacks (where's Leo? He was just here!) but all in all, they are just getting to be such kids now. They listen better, stay with us when we’re walking in public and also, they kind of get along with each other, seem to even be little friends who (much of the time though trust me, not all) seem to enjoy each other's company.

Perhaps the biggest development in the Becoming Kids Department: they are really playing together now. It’s more than just hayrides. They’ve moved on to these elaborate story games. Admittedly Ellie is the leader in the language department (“OK Leo now you go there and hide or the bear is going to get you”) but Leo most certainly contributes, and it’s fascinating to watch the two of them communicate, sometimes non-verbally but also in spoken word (have I mentioned that Ellie almost always understands what Leo is saying, even when Erin and I haven’t the faintest clue what he’s saying?). Hide and seek is big (the sliding glass doors on the closet in the hotel room where the awesomest, apparently, for hide and seek). The two of may have discovered Narnia in that closet and at the very least built a village out of extra pillows and laundry.

I wanna go back to the hotel room!

Friday Listiness

I bow to the list. In no particular order:

Fish Oil: Dare I say that it’s doing something? Leo’s just been…lighter lately. Not so angry. More reasonable. Honestly, he’s been a sweet little pleasure. There have been no “Too Loud” incidents in the last week (at least at home and as far as I’m concerned when it comes to school, no news is good news). We even went out to lunch on Sunday and he marched right in without argument. True, it was one of his favorite places. Sadly, the Great Rice Incident of 2008, in which he managed to sneeze a half a cup of rice all over our table was not replicated, however he was kind enough to spill a good portion of the rice on the floor as he was attempting to throw it in the garbage. Yeah, sorry about that.

Three: It is becoming painfully obvious that Ellie is close to turning three. There’s been a real amping up of “I do it myself” and “No I don’t want that” and perhaps my own personal favorite, "Mommy you hurt me! Don't touch my Band-Aid!" And the emotions. Oh, the emotions. It must be exhausting to feel things as intensely as an almost three-year-old. A few mornings ago as she sat happily in the car eating her fruit bar while I carted the garbage and recycling to the curb, I had the nerve to open her door. I thought maybe she needed some fresh air. As I passed by on my way back to the car from the curb, I found a sobbing Ellie. “Mommy I want my door closed!” she wailed, giant crocodile tears coating her cheeks and neck.

File This Under It Was Bound To Happen Eventually: Speaking of things that are being “amped up,” I have one word: Princesses. Dear me. Suddenly, everything is Princess This and Princess That. And this morning, I think I met the culprit. A little girl at Ellie’s school has a lot of Princess accessories (I’m talking the fairly nauseating although guess ultimately benign Disney variety)—clothes, hair accoutrement, lunch box. I know I sound like a huge snob here, I guess I just wasn’t quite ready. I know we can’t all grow up in a bubble and you could do worse than Princesses, but, well. Yeah. Like I said, I wasn’t ready yet. (And I know what happens when you “ban” something).


Attitude: Last night as I was singing to Ellie and telling her a story, I started to giggle, as I watched her grind her pacifier nipple into her eye (she does this when she’s especially tired). “Mommy, why are you laughing at me?” Ellie asked, with all the exasperation of a thirteen year old.

The Reader: Leo is now reading books to us at bedtime. He does it with fervor and intensity and such purpose. I understand some of the words, and he’s definitely making a lot of it up from memory, but one thing is obvious. That boy is reading. Video to come (If he lets me. It could be tricky).


Milestone: Leo is bringing new meaning to the term “lost tooth.” Yup, another one "bit" (sorry, couldn't help it) the dust, another bottom one. He’s now missing two bottom teeth and by missing I mean just that. It was there and it was gone and the Tooth Fairy never even got a chance.


Shoes, Again: My obsession with finding Leo yellow Crocs for the summer has come to a happy end (I paid to much for used ones on eBay but Hey. I got them. I should have bought them from crocs.com when I had the chance last week but I was being cheap and I waited too long and now they are out of stock. I know that I’m enabling his yellow obsession but I seriously can’t think of anything more fun than yellow shoes (let’s face it, you don’t come across them often nor, as evident in my experience, easily). Leo and Ellie are so vocal about their favorite colors that I just can’t resist (because you know that of course I’m getting Ellie the pink ones). Whenever they are presented with a color option, then comes the chorus of Ellie: “I want a pink one!” and Leo: “Yellow!”

Smarty: This happened a month or so ago but I forgot to mention it. A friend recently taught me a new sign—“share” and I thought, wow I need to use that with Leo. I asked him if he knew the sign for share (because he knows way more signs than I do so I figured I should check to see if he already knew it). He looked at me blankly, so I said, Leo, do you know how to say share? (Sometimes I also forget that he now talks way more than he signs.)
Leo smiled and said “Ellie.”

Don't Like Football But I Like a Good Soap Opera: "Friday Night Lights" starts again tonight (for those of us without DirectTV). Best. Show. Ever.

When the Weekend Can't Come Fast Enough

Allow me to set the scene. Our house, this morning (you totally know where this is going, right? What is it about this week’s mornings?).

Leo ate a good breakfast of French toast (frozen from TJ’s, before you get all impressed with me) and got dressed without too much argument. Then he decided he wanted cereal with milk, so he did what he is apt to do, “put his order in.” He goes into the refrigerator and/or cupboards and places what he’d like to eat on the kitchen counter.

That was all fine and swell and I would have been agreeable to Leo having “second breakfast,” except that it was about 7:40, the bus was imminent and by no means did I want a repeat of yesterday. I told Leo this and so my little mule and I had a quiet war. I put the carton of milk back in the refrigerator and the cereal back in the cupboard and he trailed behind me and took both items back out and placed them on the counter. We did little dance about ten times.

That. Boy. Is. Stubborn.

Seriously, sometimes the number of times I have to say something to him (such as, Leo, there is no time for cereal, the bus is coming and you don’t want them to leave you like they did yesterday do you?), well, I get on my own damn nerves.

The bus came. I panicked briefly when it appeared briefly that Leo was not going to go outside. But I cheerfully “redirected” him with clapping! and exclamation about his lizard! (Remember, the famous rubber lizard). And how exciting would it be to show the bus driver his gecko! (Because really, can you think of anything better?).

I should pause here to add that while all this was going on, Ellie was sitting on the little potty that we glamorously keep in the living room (no bathroom on our main floor—I know, I know, don’t even get me started).

Every morning we go to the bus as threesome. Usually Leo makes the dash across the lawn while I hold Ellie and she does her usual coy wave and sometimes even deigns a smile with the bus driver and aide.

Today though, with Ellie on the potty and the clock ticking and the bus waiting, I called to Ellie over my shoulder as I led Leo outside that we’d be right back. Clearly this was SO not OK with her. Because the next thing I knew, Leo was frozen on the lawn, refusing to get on the bus because Ellie was standing on the front porch with her pants around her ankles and the tears flowing. Between the volume of her cries and the fact that she was clearly unhappy (Leo is very empathetic, especially to Ellie), well that was it. Leo was going no where.

This was one of those Classic Parenthood Moments where I really did wonder where the Candid Camera was hidden. I mean, what a sight. The half naked, hysterically crying toddler, the trying-to-remain calm mother, carrying her kicking and protesting kindergartner across the grass.

Sometimes, all you can really do is laugh.

And take deep breathes. Deep, deep breaths.

"Boobies," the Potential End of a Political Future and Live! Nude! Girl!

That got your attention, didn’t it?

It’s been so quiet around here lately! Where is everyone? Have we all succumbed to mid-winter/post holidays/pre-tax refund (or bill-gah!)/malaise?

In any event, I hope everyone is OK.

We are plugging along.

Last night, Leo did. Not. Feel. Well. He whined in agony when I told him it was time to turn off “Yo Gabba Gabba” (damn you Nick Jr. for your uncanny ability to advertise “Coming up next! Dora the Explorer” at the precise moment that I set dinner on the table.)

Sidenote: We are late to the Yo Gabba Gabba party. I put it squarely in the “shows that mesmerize kids to the point that it’s creepy" (is it mind control?) but still, is there anything cuter than Leo, bolting off the couch so that he can join his Yo Gabba buds in their dance moves? I know, I’m biased.

Speaking of Nick Jr., they are currently running a segment on homemade smoothies. They're simple enough to make and I'm already a big smoothie maker, but whenever Leo sees this ad, he comes straight to me and demands, simply: "Boobie."

So I’m choosing to ignore the tell-tale very faint beginnings of some kind of…rash on his face. I’m in complete denial that Leo might have strep. Again. He didn’t eat a bite of dinner last night and I didn’t push the subject (I’ll admit the leftover pizza and frozen fish sticks were not all that appealing but I do think there was something else going on).

After a good five minutes of a pathetic Leo lying silently, tummy down on the love seat, I went to him and held him. I asked him if he wanted to read a book and he agreed. He asked for juice and we read a sing-a-song Sesame Street book and that seemed to perk him up a bit. A few minutes later Ellie padded over to us, cheese pizza crust in hand. An impromptu after dinner (or in Leo’s case, dinner replacement) sing-a-long was born.
***
Upstairs, we sped through bedtime preparation, skipping a bath. I didn’t want to miss the window of tiredness with Leo, though I didn’t think there was much chance for this. At first he refused Tylenol with a stomp of the foot. I didn’t push it, and 30 seconds later he approached me. I honestly think he knew it might make him feel better. He’s getting old enough to know. Or at least I think so.

And then Leo fell asleep on the toilet.

I hope I’m not endangering Leo’s future political career with this news, but it truly was a sight to see.

Meanwhile, Ellie was busy with the constant running dialogue that she provides to life. It’s truly comical: “When I was sick I went to the hospital because I threw up when I ate the cupcake from the bookstore...Mommy you have a boo-boo...I kiss your boo-boo...” (all true, by the way). Leo was in and out of consciousness atop the commode, watching Ellie with humor and bewilderment and a general look of “does she ever shut up?” on his face. (The answer, bless her heart—is No).

"Oh Mommy!" (Looking at my bathrobe) "You have a pink one!"

Once in bed, Leo fell asleep in less than a minute (a new record, I think).

Ellie…did not.

I took a shower. I cleaned up the kitchen. I let the dog in. I let the dog out. I let the dog in. I put away all the laundry (yay me!). I ate two oatmeal chocolate chip cookies and drank a mug of milk. I watched “Life Unexpected” (eh…I like. I don’t love it. But I’m hanging in there. I’m enough of a sap to be patient and to appreciate the sentimentality of it. If nothing else I enjoy (and get a little teary/nostalgic) all the shots of the Portland skyline.

All the while, Ellie sang. Ellie whined. Ellie chatted. Ellie dropped and called out for her “pink bobby” (her word for pacifier, I know, I know, she’s 2 ½ and still sleeps with a pacifier. Shoot me. It makes her happy. I am big on “life is too short, and if it’s not hurting anyone…”).

It was nearly lights out (for me) at 10:30 and the little chanteuse was still going strong. I figured I could just leave her couldn’t resist checking on her.

And sure enough, when I opened her door a sliver. Birthday suit city.

I don’t know what it is with the late night singing and nudity with Ellie. I will say that she’s very cooperative and seems to be in on the joke. She knows exactly what she’s doing. She has been known to fall asleep naked (she wakes up when I try to dress her so it’s better to catch her before she falls asleep).

There was gleeful skipping into the bathroom, there was galloping back to the bedroom for a brief haggling over pajamas (No Mommy! I want the pink ones!). And there was blissful contentedness to be tucked in with two blankies, two bobbies and Cleo.

And then, eerie, miraculous silence.
***
Leo was fine this morning. Granted, he didn't eat his waffle, but he drank his "boobie" with abandon and later ran to the little yellow bus with a spring in his step. Today at least, there was no (feared) call from the school nurse.

And hopefully, tonight will be better than last night. For Leo and the little diva songstress.

Hayride 101

Leo has a new obsession.

See this?

It's called a "Hayride."

It involves taking most of the toys in the living room, all of the love seat cushions (the couch cushions aren't removable, thank-goodness-I-mean-oh-darn) and stacking everything into a big pile.

Sunday afternoon, while the rain pounded and the Colts killed the Jets, Leo got a gleam in his eye, took one look at Ellie and said, simply: "Hayride."

Ellie said, "OK Leo. Hayride."

It makes a huge mess, but it keeps them occupied for a good hour. The above photo doesn't do the "hayrides" justice. The one shown is in its early stages, trust me. Add a couple of Little People sets (Barn, House), all 759 Little People, a Princess Castle and some stuffed animals and you've got the makings of a perfect Hayride. Oh, and note the random, found, kitchen items that made it onto this particular hayride: measuring spoons, chopsticks and an ice cream scooper. Yup.

And here's an outdoor "Hayride."

Look at Leo's focus.

Here's an interesting variation on a "Hayride."

They called this a "Hayride Train."

I don't ask questions. I'm just happy when they get along and it doesn't involve this.

Though this is pretty cute too.

Alive, and, Well…

Apologies for the absence. I wish I had a good, glamorous excuse.

Barring that, I give you a few recent observations:

-Erin took Leo for an all day excursion in NYC to Little Boy Heaven aka The Intrepid Museum yesterday (see photos, above-the fountain shot was taken at a park just next to the museum and yes, that's Leo piloting a helicopter) while Ellie and I went for mani-pedis. Oh I kid. Really we hit the thrift stores (three words: rick rack jumper-score! (for Ellie)) and she took a marathon nap while I did some chores and caught up on my DVR. The most surprising part of the day was Ellie spent the first hour asking for and looking for Leo. According to Erin, Leo did something similar. Whenever they saw a small girlish looking person Leo would excitedly exclaim “Eh-yee! Eh-yee!” So again, with the love-hate relationship. They aggravate each other to no end but the second one of them is gone their little lives are thrown into chaos.

-Ellie has a bunch of new phrases: “He’s running! He’s walking!” (upon observing people, well, running and walking—this is when we are driving in the car). What do you want? We live in the suburbs. Sadly, walkers are not so commonplace as they were in Brooklyn.

-The other night Leo (aka Lightening Hands) somehow squirmed his little mits into the (baby locked! Honest!) Dreaded Poisonous Under-the-Sink Cabinet. He pulled out the not so deadly pet scent neutralizer (thankfully it’s non-toxic) and managed to spray Ellie squarely in the face. Awesome. Just another reason NOT to have toxic chemicals around…but anyway. Did I mention he managed to do all of this in the span of the few seconds I spent looking away from the two hooligans? I thinking I was doing something nervy, like washing a dish.

Of course, Ellie was terrified and was quickly reduced to a puddle of hysterical tears. I appropriately admonished Leo with the requisite time out. Apparently Ellie was taking notes and paid close attention to what I said to Leo, because all weekend she would walk over to the under-the-sink cabinet and say over and over “Leo spray me! Leo spray me!”

Kind of boring, right? But strangely at the same time, never a dull moment.

Who Are These People?

Sometimes I look at my kids and just think Who Are You? How did you get this little (or in some cases, big) personality?

Case in point: Leo has always had this thing about doing things with his feet. He’s tried to eat (with a fork or spoon) with his feet, placing the utensil between his toes. I know, kind of gross. He tries to pick things up with his feet sometimes. Hmm…maybe I should speak to his OT about it? (Kidding.)

So this is how my two weirdos passed the time on the drive home from Connecticut last weekend.


Leo started it but of course

Little Sister HAD to follow suit.

Shockingly enough, juice boxes don't do all that well between toes.

Neither do dogs.

Really, what else is there to say?

The Weekend of Boat Love and Dog Years

This weekend was our annual trip to Mystic, Connecticut. We normally spend the majority of our time at the Aquarium but this year it was all about the boats for a certain young man in our family.

But let’s back up a moment. We couldn’t just leave town Saturday morning as originally planned. Oh no, that would be too easy. First we had to make a pit stop at the pediatrician’s office for Ellie, because I had a sinking suspicion she’d finally caught the strep that we just seem to be passing around the family. Thank goodness for Saturday hours because yup, she has strep. So it was a quick pause at the pharmacy and then we hit the road.

Leo in travel garb.

We made decent time in spite of the late start and arrived in time for lunch at one of our favorite spots.

Leo could not stop talking about the boats. He was basically furious at the young family who parked their boat next to the dock of the restaurant. Leo could not understand why he too couldn't join them when they left.

That's when we decided to skip the Aquarium and opt for the Seaport.

This year’s visit was much different than last year. A certain little girl is now mobile and quite opinionated. She did not understand why she couldn’t walk along the docks (you know, the ones next to Open Water) without a held hand. I’ll just cut to the chase: I’m a Nervous Nelly. I fully admit. I am terrified of kids and water, particularly my kids. There’s Leo, who doesn’t listen and is prone to unpredictable, quick movements, and there is Ellie who is, well, a month from turning two. Enough said.

So since playing by the dock wasn’t scary enough, we went back to the hotel to go swimming in the pool. Seriously, that was fine. Ellie basically squealed with happiness for the first ten minutes in the pool. One glitch: the part where Leo switched gears from jumping into Erin’s arms and managed to make a break for the hot tub, located right next to the pool. Thank goodness for the nice family that was in the hot tub who caught him and kept him from going completely under. Heart attack special, that’s all I can say about that.

The hotel room was trashed within minutes of our arrival. Leo and Ellie are worse than any rock band when it comes to quick destruction. All the telephones were swiftly unplugged, small appliances hidden.

We decided to lay low the rest of the evening.

The kids were tired. We were more tired. There was room service pizza, “Finding Nemo” on cable and finally, bed.

Waiting for dinner to be served.

Make that, attempted bed. Ellie had other plans.

Seriously, Ellie? Refusing to sleep in a big queen bed with Mommy? (Erin and Leo bunked in the other bed, no way we were all going to be in one bed and live to see morning.) Choosing instead to roam around a dark room, chatting to yourself while your moms pleaded with you and your poor, hysterically overtired brother literally cried himself to sleep? That was the night that felt endless, interminable, yes, a night that could be counted in dog years. I’m being a bit dramatic, I know. It only took her about an hour to settle down before she finally just passed out. I knew she would, but there is that irrational fear of What If? What if she never goes to sleep? What if I’m awake all night?

Just remember:
“Going away with kids is not a vacation, it’s a trip.”

On to the evidence:

The captain of our ship at Mystic Seaport.

More boat driving at the Seaport's playground, located right next to the wonderful little Children's Museum. A great find!

A suspicious stowaway

A cranky captain

Lunch at Seaview Snackbar . Yes, heartburn on a tray but TOTALLY worth it.

Lastly, the back view of the t-shirt I stupidly didn't buy. I've been regretting it since we left.