Life Amidst Royalty and Other Weekend Notes

"Lucy and I are playing queens," Ellie announced, bright and early on Saturday morning (note the tiny paint brush scepter in Ellie's hand) .

Oh! I answered. What will you do now that you're queens?

"Just, you know, rule," said Ellie.



A few hours later, the little queen pictured above awoke from a too short nap, positvely furious and inconsolable (don't be fooled by her angelic looks and the heavenly sunlight pouring down on her). This little queen can show quite a little tempter.

Ellie's response: "She's just a big piece of work!"

You have to give Ellie credit for trying. She really is so good with Harry and Lucy. She has an endless amount of patience (way more than I) and is so creative and constantly thinking of ways to amuse and distract the babies when they're out of sorts.

For example, when neither lunch nor milk would cheer Lucy up after her little post-nap tantrum, Ellie dug deep, knowing I'd promised we'd go outside to play and swim in the baby pool after lunch: "Hey Lucy,"said Ellie, "Want to go be ladies in the pool?"

Eventually, Lucy came around.


And later, there was the requisite post-swimming, group ice cream meeting.

I scored a great find at a garage sale this weekend. Of course as I was buying it ($5!) I thought to myself, Lucy and Harry are totally going to fight over this. I even said as much to the woman I bought it from who, coincidentally also had twins (and two older ones-yikes, what a nut!). She just smiled and waved me on.

You know what I think I love most about Harry and Lucy? How well they share. 

HAHAHAHAHAHA

Yes, that's Lucy falling backwards, feet first. Turns out Harry is toughening up a bit lately and working on his offense. He's apparently especially territorially when it comes to anything vehicle oriented.

That's better. Enjoying the new boat in PEACE.

Oh, Dear

What began as a lovely evening in which I was fed squishy warm pears by Ellie and kissed repeatedly on the mouth (a recent development-she can’t resist it) rapidly deteriorated at bedtime. Actually, it got downright ugly.

If there’s a more appropriate name for a developmental phase than “Terrible Twos” I don’t know of it.

We are in the thick of it. The throes.

Add in the fact that Ellie might possibly be the most stubborn small human being I have EVER MET (and yes I’m screaming) and well, it’s a recipe for…something. (Evidence of stubbornness: After going potty last night Ellie walked around with her little corduroys around her ankles for what must have been a good thirty minutes, ordering to me: “You do it! You do it!” as in, you pull up my pants Mommy! And I’ll admit it. I totally, finally caved. I just. Couldn’t. Take. It. Any. More.).

Like all of Ellie’s phases and developmental milestones, the good old ‘Twos are new to me. Leo didn’t have them. If I had to pick I would say three was the hardest with him (and to be fair, I’ve heard threes aren’t so hot for the 46 chromosome kiddos either). Awesome.

In any event, the peaceful dinner time snuggling and chatting (Me: “I love you Ellie.” Ellie: “You love me? I love you!” were just a lovely way to end a stressful Monday.

And then I had the gall to suggest we all go upstairs for a bath.

Did you know it can take as long as ten minutes to get up twelve stairs if you drag it out long enough? Don’t worry, I never let it get this far.

It was upstairs that Ellie didn’t want to go potty. Then Ellie didn’t want to get off the potty. Ellie didn’t want to get out of the bath. Ellie got out of the bath but didn’t want to be toweled off. Then began the nightly Catch-Ellie-the-slippery-wet toddler-as-she-renders-Leo’s-room-an-obstacle-course. In other words, anything to avoid the dreaded Put On PJs.

In the end, she dissolved onto the rug in Leo’s room, a screaming, weeping, exhausted little ball of fury and bedtime angst.

The whole scene rendered Leo, well, stunned. Ellie was like a little human car crash he couldn’t look away from. He appeared both fascinated and appalled, bust mostly just speechless. And let me be clear: Leo is speech-delayed, but he is anything but speechless. Most nights he has a lot to say about a lot of things. And more and more, Leo and Ellie are talking to each other. Actual conversations.

But not last night.

Finally, when Ellie calmed down, the three of us read two books and I announced it was time for Ellie to go to bed. She didn’t put up much of a fight, which is how I know she’s really tired (like I didn’t know already). I quietly tucked her in, smoothing her Elmo quilt and “laying down” with her (code for me crouching down to her level and rubbing her belly for a minute or two, my arms through the crib slats).

Leo stood uncharacteristically silent in her doorway, the concerned older brother, the unwitting witness of the collision of Terrible and Two.