Preview

It's dawning on Ellie that the babies are not always going to be babies. I've tried to reinforce this from the beginning, that they are not always going to be such attention leeches. They'll be fun! Interactive! Members! Of! Our! Family! I'm probably overly paranoid about resentment, so intent am I to remind them that this intensive newborn phase is purely temporary.

It's already happening. Lucy gazes at Leo and Ellie like they are the second comings. She is in awe of them, it's clear. Harry does too, but he's not quite as fun and responsive yet, so the big kids tend to fawn all over Lucy, for now.

But back to Ellie's realization that the "babies" will not always be so.

"Leo and Ellie and Lucy and Harry, that's FOUR children," she exclaimed from the back of the mini van the other afternoon (where most of our deepest conversations occur). "That's a lot of people! A lot of children!"

I nodded in agreement. No freaking kidding.

"That means there will always be someone to play with!" Ellie continued. "We're going to have so much fun!"

Let's hope!

In Full Swing

Well, school seems to be off to a good start.


Gratuitous photo having nothing to do with school but ohmygoodness look at my boys!


I haven't heard much from Leo's teacher (which, sigh, means I haven't heard much). But yesterday was the first day of assigned homework and Leo did it right off the bus, with no argument (which probably means today will be a fight since I am committing the mom's sin of saying something went well).

When I was working, homework was always hit or miss. The aftercare teachers would usually do it with him, but sometimes they'd forget, or Leo would refuse. And I always felt like #1 Working Mom when I got the end of the week report and there were several gaps in the homework section. So we'll see how it goes since I'm home for now. I'm making him do it right away, and THEN he gets to go outside and play his weird game of torment/reward the dog with a tennis ball (don't ask).

Yesterday was Ellie's first day of ballet/jazz. She's taking it at a local community center rather than at the "dance school" where she went in the spring. I love this center. You know what else I love? Instead of having to pass through the "dance boutique" that taunts little girls with pink tutus and sequined dance dresses (of which she has several, don't worry she is not deprived in this area), I was greeted with a gently worn ballet shoe bin. You toss in your "old," too small ballet shoes and take a "new pair." Love it.

This is the same center where Leo takes swimming and where Ellie will also take tumbling/gymnastics and swimming (which starts today). I'm not sure who had more fun at dance class, Ellie or the babies. Those babies were the bell of the bench outside the dance room. It was the nannies and me (which...hmm...this is a whole new world for me). There were a couple of moms too but it was heavily nanny. In typical form, Harry was fussing and then all out crying at one point. My new friend Anita the Nanny swooped in and took Harry into her arms (with my permission of course). He fell silent immediately and just stared at her with amazement. As did I.

The babies seemed to love all the attention (seriously, I guess it's been a while since they've seen baby twins around there because every few minutes another mom/nanny/community center employee would peek into the stroller and say "I heard there are some twins over here?") Lucy, her usual social self smiled and cooed and "chatted" with anyone who would make eye contact. Harry fussed and slurped his bottle and nursed in his usual sloppy way, spit up all over me and then was happy as can be, grinning and "talking" to his new found audience. Who needs Gymboree when you have the dance class waiting bench?

Ellie, meanwhile could not stop talking about the little stamps she got on her hand (two green stars) at the end of dance class. Excited really does not begin to cover it. For the rest of the day, Ellie would just say, apropos of nothing "I'm so excited I got to go to dance class today" and "I just love my stamps." There was much consternation at bath time about whether the beloved stamps would-gasp-get washed off.

This morning the first words out of her mouth were to Erin: "Mama! I get to go to swim class tomorrow!" That's when Erin informed her that she actually got to go swimming sooner than that, because tomorrow was now today. "I get to go TODAY?!" she squealed.

The unbridled enthusiasm (for the littlest things) of a four-year-old really does put it all into perspective.

Away They Go

No matter that Leo's bus didn't show up (hey, you can't have everything, right?) and I ended up driving him.

Leo is off to second grade, Ellie is back to pre-k.

Love these little people to death, but right now I am humming "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year."

Happy back to school to all!

She Said It

Ellie and were doing Play-Doh (doing? playing? not sure of the correct verb here) this afternoon. Ellie started yawning.

Me: Ellie, are you tired?

Ellie: Yes. (Continues rolling her purple dough).

Me: Maybe you should take a nap later (sighing longingly). I wish I could take a nap.

Ellie: (Pausing a moment) Oh Mommy (in her most incredulous, four-going-on-fourteen-year-old voice), you can't take a nap! You have TWO BABIES!

That Ellie, wise beyond her years.

Three Months, Three Days

Probably no surprise that I'm late to commemorating the big Three Month Mark.

Three months ago we set out on a journey we shall never forget. We brought THEM home.

Right before this photo was taken a woman stopped dead in her tracks in front of me in the lobby of the hospital and just kept saying "Oh My God, Oh My God." I was like WHAT??? This woman could not take her eyes off the babies. Twins. This was just the beginning and my first introduction into the world's fascination and interest in, dum, dum, dum: TWO BABIES AT ONCE.

Anyway. Three months feels momentous somehow. Maybe because my friend Lisa is teasing me that three months signals an end to what she lovingly calls "newborn hell."

Oh I kid. It hasn't been that bad.

Ahem.

And besides, since we've been here before (sort of, with one baby anyway) I know that it gets better. Tons better. And hey, it's not so bad right now. If only we could drive ten blocks without poor Hair Man falling apart into shrieks of hysteria.

Oh Hair Man (this phrase is probably spoken a dozen times a day, whether he's soiled another bib or showered spit up onto the hardwood floors or just gone bat shi* crazy on a short drive home from Costco. That Harry. He has a hard time. Except when he doesn't. When he smiles at you with his gigantic chocolaty brown eyes, Eyes that are so dark and huge that you can barely see the whites. He adores the changing table (or maybe he just hates wearing pants?). Put him on that table and he dances a little jig and boogies and just comes alive with gleeful smiles. He can chill in his swing for a long time if given the chance. Until he's done. Then he lets you know. Oh does he let you know. But he's also starting to "talk" with that sweet little cooey voice that babies his age have.

I've decided he's just a homebody. He hates the car. Not a huge fan of going places. He does love fresh air and the outdoors. He sure knows how to clear an aisle at Target or Walmart but the minute you take him out of the store and into the parking lot? Silence.

Maybe he just hates shopping.

Then there's Lucy.

Luce. Also known as Pinky Tootenpants (that's Toot-in-pants). Grandpa Rog came up with that moniker. I'll let you guess why.
She's a charmer, that one. She's the quiet one. Little Miss Mellow. Case in point: Thursday was Ellie's annual physical. Since Erin's been home all week on vacation, I saw no reason to drag all fifty children to the pediatrician's office (always a fun time). So we divvied the load. Erin took the boys (stayed home) and I took the girls. We made good time at the doctor's office and since there were tumbleweeds and crickets in the refrigerator, I decided it would be a good afternoon to go to Costco.

I am not kidding you when I say Lucy didn't utter a sound the entire time. It was weird enough being out with one baby (by the way NO ONE paid any attention to us, I felt like such a nobody out and about with just ONE BABY, I mean, how boring!). In addition to the the fact that I felt a little bit like I'd left my right leg at home, I also kept feeling like I forgot someone. Did I leave a baby in the car? On aisle three next to the gigantic jugs of salad dressing?

Lucy is quiet, but she loves to smile. And laugh/giggle/coo. She's just very much "in the world" and she has been for some time. I man this in the way that newborns, when they first arrive seem to spend the first month still gestating. But Lucy, she opened her wide eyes and looked around very early on (for a long time we joked that she didn't blink, that's how wide her gaze is). She's also the smallest and most delicate of any baby we've ever had. She has the teeniest little feet, especially.

Lucy fights sleep in the day, she is that baby who doesn't want to miss a thing.


This picture makes me laugh. It looks like Harry is about twice the size of Lucy. He is a lot bigger. Hmm, I wonder if it's because he eats ALL THE TIME? Perhaps. Hey, he comes by his love of eating honestly. I can't blame the guy. Nor can I resist his Popeye wrists and arms or his thigh-sized cankles, I mean ankles. He's going to be a fun one to feed solid food to. I envision pureeing steaks and whole chickens for him. He's that hungry. In addition to Hair Man, we also affectionately refer to Harry as "Bruiser." Lucy is also known as (probably no surprise here) "Peanut."

Three months. The whole summer. On the one hand, it feels like a long time. Believe me when I say there have been some long days and some even longer nights. But at the same time, these are the last babies we'll have in this house (sniff!), so I know better than to want to rush these precious, arduous, maddening, absurd, yet glorious baby days. I have never been this tired in my life. When I fall into bed at night my body just quivers with exhaustion and winces knowing in two or three hours I'll be up again.

Lucy and Harry, three days old.

It's amazing to stare at these two little people and think that we haven't always known them, that they haven't always been a part of our little family.

And so we've decided to keep them.

New Blog In Town

For another perspective on the crazy herding cats state of our lives, check this out.

I laughed. I cried. I'm thinking you will too.

Goodnight, Irene: Alternatively Titled I Love Electricity

I can now say that five out of six of us have experienced our first hurricane (Erin, a New Orleans native is an old pro). And I'm here to tell you I do not need to do that again for a while.

Sunday morning began early, with the cringe inducing thud of the power going out. We sort of knew it was inevitable, it was just a matter of when and for how long. I was nursing the babies when I heard the tell-tale "thud" around 3 a.m. The little sound machine that sits on our bedroom floor next to the crib stopped, the air conditioner silenced and of course, the lights (bathroom, outside): out.

The rain had started around 2 p.m. Saturday and was relentless, battering, Noah's Ark kind of rain. I let the kids play outside for a little bit before the winds came (figuring we'd likely be trapped in the house for a good 24 hours--see above). They are always up for an occasion that requires rain coats and umbrellas.

The winds didn't come until Sunday morning and oh did they come. But a quick peak at the sump in our basement told the saddest tale of all. No power=no sump pump and the waters were rising. Erin bailed. Then I bailed. It hardly made a dent. Our sweet next-door neighbors texted us to see if we needed anything. For some strange reason their power had been restored while ours had not (even though they're just next to us they're on a different power grid). I told them our tale of woe and they responded immediately: Did we need anything? Ice for the melting fridge? Coffee? Babysitters while we bailed?

Did someone say coffee?

Then Erin then had the brilliant idea to plug our sump pump into the neighbors' house (which is so close we can practically stick our hand in their living room window).

SUCCESS!

But perhaps most brilliant of all was her next idea, which was to plug the DVD player and TV into the neighbors' power so that Leo and Ellie would leave us alone for ten minutes. Let's just say between the bailing and the babies and the trapped in the house for twelve hours with no power? It had been a long morning.

And in case anyone is wondering I do not think Leo or Ellie would last long on the prairie (not that I would either). Around 4 p.m. Sunday afternoon the whole house buzzed with the beautiful sound of the power being restored. I whine endlessly here but really we were the lucky ones. Friends close and far on the east coast suffered so much more than we did, not to mention the poor people in parts of the mid-Atlantic and New England and New York and even parts of New Jersey just a few miles from us.

The next morning the sky was bluer and clearer then I've seen it in a long time. The coffee pot was on and full and wafting its gorgeous scent of Stumptown throughout the house, the dishwasher was churning and all the towels, soiled from the basement antics the day before were clean and gracefully spinning around in the dryer. Truly the calm after the storm.

And the battery back-up for the sump pump? It's on its way.