Thankful. Grateful.

What Leo is thankful for, November 2011.

My cup these days, runneth over. WAY over.

I'm aggravated and exhausted and impatient and spread thin as a fine crepe. But amidst the laundry that never ends, the dishwasher that's always full and the claustrophobic house (two of everything baby-related, do you realize how much stuff that is?) oh, do I know how good things are. This is where I need to be right now. There is no other place.

Even when I'm so sleepy I can hardly see (did you know this is possible? I'm learning that it is), I'm truly grateful. I am.

I'm thankful that the number of times per day that I think to myself I Cannot Do This, This is Too Hard, seems to be decreasing.

Grateful for Erin, who has an uncanny ability to sense just when I'm about ready to walk out that front door and not tell anyone where I'm going--this is when she wisely somehow finds a way to make the early train. Sometimes she even brings me pastries. She works incredibly hard and so far, professes to love me no matter what kind of mood I'm in (and believe me, there have been some moods lately).

Grateful for a little boy who tells me "I love you Mommy." Thankful for that little boy who, when he falls down, shoots his thumb up in the air and exclaims, "I'm OK!"

Grateful for a little girl who asks "Am I doing a good job Mommy?" and perhaps my personal favorite, "Can I just have a snuggle?"

Collectively, they often make me want to beat my head against the wall, but they also make me laugh every day (thank goodness!). To wit: yesterday Ellie, wearing her most earnest expression asked me if I knew that "milk comes from cows bottoms?" (I did not.)


And although a year ago the prospect both terrified and bewildered me, today I'm grateful for our "bonus baby," that we went for #3 and got #4 too. Just don't ask me which one the bonus is, because I can't imagine life without either one.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!

All I Want Are Some Turkey Dishtowels and a Few Other Thoughts

I set off to Target earlier this week on a mission. Turkey dish towels. Like these, only preferably not for $13. No such luck. It's all Christmas baby. There were no turkeys to be found. Apparently no one decorates for Thanksgiving anymore.

I guess I'm as guilty as the next guy (see above). We went to the mall today for the playground and the bookstore, passed Santa, who Ellie begged to see (what?). Nineteen dollars and ninety five cents and fifty percent of my children later (Leo was at school, Lucy was asleep), there we were.

To be honest, I love this time of year. I'm a Jew who loves Christmas. I love Christmas music (confession: I listened to it today on Pandora and love that thanks to Pandora I don't have to wait for the radio stations to play it). It's weird not being in the city and feel myself missing the hustle and bustle a little, or at the very least being able to complain about all those dang tourists crowding around the tree at Rockefeller Center.

In other news:

-Speaking of turkeys, I finally finally hung my little "art garland" (to hold seasonal kid art) that I've been meaning to put up for, oh, five months (hi babies!). It's nothing big, it's just twine and cutie mini clothes pins and with a couple of nails it took all of three minutes to hang. It will be a welcome spot for all the art we do around here or the stuff that comes home from school that I feel guilty instantly recycling (we are clutter central, suddenly). I really can't go on enough about how accomplished I felt having crossed that To Do off my list. It's astonishing how challenging it is to finish a goal or project around here lately and that's been hard for me not to get itchy about. I assure you I'm getting better though ("lightening up," as my mom would say.)

-Leo finally started private speech therapy. Let me just say that 5 p.m. is not an optimal time to be loading up four children and setting off in the night for said appointment. The babies want to be asleep at 5:30, or at least on their way, not sitting in an Italian restaurant waiting for take-out food for their older brother and sister. That's what Ellie and I did while Leo was at his appointment when I determined there would be no time for dinner prep when we walked in the door at 6 p.m. and the babies were cuh-razy and exhausted. This extra speech for Leo is such a worthy cause, but I'm pretty sure if they can't find a better time for his appointment (earlier, please), it's going to shave a couple of years off my life.

-This maternity leave has been sadly TV-less (what a surprise, right? It's not like I have anything to do). In an effort to amp up my television viewing, I'm trying to get "into" a show. That show is American Horror Story. Wow. Anyone else watching? What do you think? I can't look away. It's so bad it's good.

-These babies are getting chunky and sturdy and holdable by the big kids.

And I'm pretty sure these two are in love.

Turning the Corner on Five Months

The babies are five months old. Well, make that five months and ten days. As usual, I'm late with the milestone report.

Of course they were both smiling adorably here until I broke out the camera and then this turned into a mugshot. But still, look at them! Giant babies! Who play with toys in exersaucers! (Since I took this picture, Lucy officially "outgrew" her swing (psychologically that is, not physically--she just hates it). Harry, on the other hand, still loves him some swing, and I love him in it!)

Five months just seems so old. I mean, relatively speaking. They are thankfully out of the newborn neediness (mostly) and well on their way to being little people with strong personalities and preferences. They are both entertaining and adore being entertained. The nice thing about having "older" kids with babies is I can put the big kids to work. Lucy's fussing and I'm making breakfast? "Ellie! Go talk to Lucy!" That's a common refrain in this house, and I've bought myself a good ten minutes.

Harry is our serious guy but he's lightened up considerably. To be fair, some days he's downright jovial. He has a gaze you can't look away from. An old soul, that's for sure. He doesn't laugh or smile easily, but when he does, he throws his whole body into it and gives you the biggest, goofiest grin.

When you hold him, he throws one arm over your shoulder and looks around at the world with such curiosity and concentration. He is able to soothe himself more and more. He seems to love the exersaucer and all the little toys on it. He's pushing buttons and spinning toys already.

Nighttime sleep is still our struggle with Harry. He wakes about every two and a half to three hours with a gut wrenching scream as though he's being stabbed. His cries are simply guttural. When Harry cries and Lucy is next to him, I swear she gives him this look as if to say "What is your problem? Sometimes she even sticks a tiny, delicate finger in her ear. Big brother is loud.

Crying it Out is definitely in our near future (shudder) with Harry. Otherwise, I might start doing some middle-of-night guttural screaming. I'm just not quite ready. Since they were technically a month early, they're not really five months. Can you tell I'm a bit of a softy?

Lucy is still our little peanut. Our happy peanut. Well, she's not as small as she was, but she still just seems so much more delicate than Harry. And the happy: Seriously, I didn't know it was possible for a baby to be this happy. She just exudes cheer and delight. At Costco or Target or Shoprite, she draws crowds with her smile. No one can really believe it. This baby wakes up laughing. Outright giggling, kicking her little legs and shaking her little arms. (You'll just have to take my word on this as the pictures here don't capture that happy so well.)


Whenever I feel crabby and exhausted and spread so thin I can hardly see, when I feel overcome with guilt that I can't give Leo and Ellie everything they need, I should just look at these pictures. Leo and Ellie love their babies.

I still contend that the hardest thing about twins is that you can't always soothe them both at the same time. Which means sometimes, someone is...not happy. Ellie was definitely the fussier baby (than Leo) and with her it was simple: I held her all the time. I made dinner with one hand almost every night during that good old "Witching Hour" while I cradled her in my other arm. Not exactly possible with twins. I absolutely despise the hours between about 4:45 and 7 p.m. Leo and Ellie are home and hungry and demanding snacks and dinner and baths and "I don't want to watch Super Why" (what is with dinner every.single.night? Such demands!) Meanwhile the babies are fussy and exhausted. They don't nap well in the afternoon and I swear if they had their way they'd be in bed by 6 p.m. but that's not always possible.

Case in point: Lucy had a terrible day today sleep-wise. Seriously the girl must have slept a total of thirty minutes today (she had an ear infection last week and we went back for a check today and she still has fluid, I just don't think she feels good). By 4:30 today she was just done (weren't we all?). While Harry took his nightly pre-dinner siesta, I strolled the halls of our house, cradling exhausted Lucy. Her body became heavier and heavier on my shoulder until I realized she had finally, mercifully, fallen asleep. And really, is there anything better in the world than the feeling of a baby falling asleep on you? It truly does make it all worthwhile.

She's five months old and I can count on one hand how many times she's fallen asleep on my shoulder (I'm not counting falling asleep while nursing, that's cheating). It felt so nice to be able to really comfort her. I've said it before and I'll say it again, with two, so much of the time it's just full on damage control. Keep them not crying, full, dry. Those individual moments of connection are sadly, few and far between.

I've heard it said the first year with twins is the hardest. We're not even six months into the adventure but I'll take the leap and say the first six months is the most difficult part of that year. And would you look at that? We're coming around the bend.

A Bunch of Turkeys

Poor Lucy.


Such a shame her big sister isn't head over heels crazy for her.

Kidding, of course. That Lucy has Ellie wrapped around her finger already, this much is clear.

And since Lucy doesn't believe in naps, she was front and center for Ellie's little turkey project yesterday.

I have a hard time keeping Ellie occupied some days. A lot of days, really. She's been in daycare full-time since she was six months old. This time at home has been an adjustment for everyone. "I just want to go where you go," she says to me when I go downstairs to switch clothes from the washer to the dryer or...try to go to the bathroom. Alone.

This little turkey project came to me in a panic when I could not say no to TV again nor could I fetch another snack. "How about a Thanksgiving project!" I suggested, in my most energetic voice. "Yes!" Ellie agreed wholeheartedly.




I'd say it was a hit for all involved.

Ellie was so excited to show Leo her "project" when he got home from school. He immediately wanted to make his own turkeys.

He busted out with these, tracing his own hand all by himself, without even being told how to do it.

He's clearly a veteran of Thanksgiving crafts, having been successfully indoctrinated on the delicate ins and outs of turkey hand tracing.

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.

Yup, It's Still Halloween Here

It must be every kid's dream: The Halloween that won't end.

Our little storm closed schools for three days, postponing the annual Halloween parade at Leo's school until today. Trick or Treating was moved from October 31 to this coming Monday (by order of the town mayor, due to the multitude of downed trees and power lines. Yikes.)

En route to the parade.

Ellie was immediately invited to join in, much to her glee (and Leo's).

Of course the babies came too, making their debut at Leo's school. Leo was beyond proud. You may recall he's the one who broke the news about the babies to much of the free world.

I think it's safe to say that the feet of these babies didn't touch the ground at yesterday's Halloween party. When I got home? I found lipstick on Harry's cap. There were many, many kisses for "Leo's babies."

An Epic Tale of the Nightmare Before, During and After Halloween or Why I Stopped Blogging for "31 or 21"*

So I'm here to tell you I have one HECK of an excuse for the disintegration of my end of "31 for 21."

I wish it weren't so.

Let's take stock, shall we? In the last eighty-six hours I have:

-Gone to Costco for party supplies for our little Halloween shindig and filled an entire refrigerator.

-Because (forshadowing here) nothing says "Power Outage!" like a full refrigerator, right?
I took this photo for the insurance company. I don't normally document my refrigerator, by the way.
But look at the giant, gorgeous hunk of brie. For my beloved cheese plate. It breaks my heart.

-Baked forty-eight pumpkin cupcakes and lovingly frosted them with cream cheese frosting.

-Watched, through the living room window, snow fall hard and quickly on trees full of golden, orange and brown leaves. Something is wrong with this picture.

-Heard the snap, like gun shots of trees falling all around us (PLEASE DON'T HIT THE HOUSE PLEASE DON'T HIT THE HOUSE).

My poor neighbor's tree.


-Answered call after call from guests who "couldn't get out of their driveways" or who were "afraid to go out in the storm."

-Watched little Ellie's shoulders slump and her lip quiver with the question "Why isn't anyone coming to my party?" [Insert stab to my heart here.] Ellie has been talking about and planning this party for weeks and weeks, every day it's "Hey guys I have an idea for the party!

-Cringed as the lights flickered, once, twice, went off, came back on and finally, off.

-Remembered, once again, how there are few things in life more cringe inducing than the ominous thud of your house's power going off. As if I needed reminding.

-Felt uneasy as darkness falls. It's going to be a long, cold night. Put socks, hats, two sleepers and extra blankets on the babies in their swings (it's too cold to put them upstairs). Check their cold hands every three hours as the temperature in our house slowly drops to 48 degrees.

-Made the decision with Erin that we could not spend another night in the house without heat and began the stressful process of trying to find a hotel room in the most densely populated state in the country boasting half a million people without power.

-Found a hotel room! Thirty miles away. Sigh.

Of course the kids thought it was a party. Our hotel had a pool! And room service! They got to eat pizza and watch Spongebob in bed. Halloween Party? What Halloween Party?

Someone in housekeeping had a lot of fun cleaning our room.


-Spent first night in hotel room. SO MUCH FUN WITH BABIES, by the way.

-Returned to house in the morning to throw away roughly $1000 dollars worth of rotting food (and don't forget the deep freeze which really comes in handy when, you know, buying in bulk.

-Driven back to hotel room for more "Spongebob."

We basically skipped Halloween. We were told by the hotel management (when they saw the kids) that there was a neighborhood a few blocks from the hotel where they could Trick or Treat but that just felt, I don't know. Weird. Then I got an email from our town that Halloween had been postponed for next week. So I didn't feel too bad. Did I mention Leo's school was closed Monday through Wednesday and is finally just reopening tomorrow?


-Woke up Tuesday morning to the news that our hotel would not be able to extend our reservation past the initial two days despite the fact that they assured us, upon check-in, that we could stay as long as we needed (No, I'm not bitter about this at all, why do you ask?)

-Paused to realize the babies were five months old! By second night, babies seemed to enjoy hotel bed.

-Made hotel manager find us a new, comparable hotel room.

-Drove the kids thirty miles to Ellie's school (where Leo used to also attend after-care and where they graciously let him go too on Tuesday so I could move our belongings without the "help" of four kids), first stopping at Dunkin Donuts to get lunches for the kids (I can't even believe I just typed that). Felt like circus sideshow as I hauled all four children into Dunkin Donuts to buy bagels with cream cheese (aka lunch).

-Felt concern that Lucy doesn't seem well. She has a low grade fever, which I learn when I stop at the house to check her temperature. Did I mention the interior of the house was 45 degrees? Harry doesn't seem great either. He's got that hacking cough that won't go away. Called doctor to make sick visit appointment.

-Needed to return to hotel to move our things to "new" hotel but first take babies to the doctor. Ta-da! Twin ear infections. Because there just wasn't enough going on.

-Rushed back to hotel room to pack room while Harry provided soundtrack. Nothing says fun like throwing your family's belongings into shopping bags as fast as you can while a sick baby screams in the background.

-Arrived at new hotel. Use term "hotel" loosely. Feel disgusted by the fact that while we may have been assigned a "non-smoking room," just walking through the hallway gives me a sore throat. Decide we cannot stay there. Put things back in the car and drive nervously back toward home, willing, praying, hoping that somehow, the power came back.

-En route to pharmacy to drop off babies' antibiotic, call neighbor, to check if, on the off chance the power has been restored.

-Learn the power was restored sometime around 4 p.m., right about when I was hauling bags into (and quickly out of) the Bed Bug Inn.

If I have learned one thing this year, it is to not take electricity for granted. Oh and heat is also nice. I realize, it could have been much, much worse. It was roughly four days without power. But there is just something very disconcerting about being displaced from your house and daily routine.

And after this year?

All I want for Chrismakah is a generator.


*With thanks to the illustrious Newark Star Ledger for the "Nightmare Before Halloween"