Merry & Bright

Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah! (I just love it when worlds collide.)

From all of us (and there are suddenly A LOT of us!), best wishes for a happy holiday season. May your days be merry and bright.

The Kindness of Strangers and Angels

Gratuitous cute Harry picture having nothing to do with this post.

Three days before Christmas in the post office parking lot, the middle aged man in the yarmulke eyed me with what appeared to be shock. And maybe a touch of horror.

He stood there for a moment, and I wasn't sure what he wanted, but finally: "Can I help you?" he asked.

At first I thought he was judging me, critical of the fact that I left the ridiculous double stroller a few feet away (with the babies in it) on the curb in front of the car while I unstrapped Ellie from her car seat. But it turned out it wasn't judgement at all. It was just the usual shock and awe at the circus act that is us.

It was a welcome switch-up from the always original "Well you have your hands full!"
And as much as I appreciate the ever-popular "God bless you" (another common phrase our brood elicits), that one doesn't get packages mailed either.

"Oh, we're OK, I'm..." I paused. What the hell was I saying? This man was being kind. I had three good-sized boxes to get from the car to the post office, one well-meaning but often ineffectual four-year-old and oh, those babies. And that stroller.

"You know what? You can carry my boxes," I said.

Let me pause to say I'm a very independent person. Sometimes, to a fault. I'm the Queen of "I Got This." I don't think it's any coincidence that one of Leo's new favorite phrases is "I'm fine." I must say it a lot.

Well guess what? In the last few months I've learned a very important lesson. Take help where you can get it. Because you know what? These days? I don't always got this.


In other news, we have a roller!

Last night I left the room for a moment with Lucy on her back on her little play mat and returned to find her on her belly. I was a little disappointed that I missed her First Roll. So I left the room again. And when I returned, she'd rolled over again! And I missed it again! Now, she's what I like to refer to as a "Rolling Fool." Girl can't stay in one position for longer than a few minutes, she rolls any chance she can.

Today Ellie asked me if angels are real and if we can see them. Then she asked me if God makes the weather. Seriously I did not know this parenting gig was going to involve such profound questions, so early on. It feels like such a huge responsibility to have these little people who basically believe everything I say. (For the record I told her angels are real but you don't know who they are when you meet/see them, that they don't have wings or halos). And then I got a little teary.

Speaking of angels, I'll just never get tired of taking pictures of this.

Change of Plans

Oh Leo. That boy just slays me. I go on and on about his speech and how worried I am about his intelligibility but he I have to say, he is doing great. We're suddenly having these conversations. And he's cracking jokes. And I'm having these little visions of what he's going to be like as a young adult.

This boy drives me crazy sometimes but he happens to be one of the most interesting, creative people I know. See above. Note the snowmen on the slide. He's wild about those snowmen, which I bought pre-kids--I know, I know, They're Hallmark: Don't Judge-- (and little did I know I'd someday have a little boy who loved singing Christmas toys year-round). He likes to "place" them where he's playing. Before I snapped this shot, the snowmen were on the patio table across from him. So the snowmen could see Leo? So he could see them? Who knows. Sometimes I find the snowmen sitting next to him on the couch when he's drawing, or facing him when he's playing Legos on the living room rug.

And I've decided a couple of things about Leo. Sure he takes a little longer to do certain things. To wit: This morning I sent him to the pantry to get more paper towels and he he took so long I'm pretty sure I could have gone to the store and bought more paper towels. No, he's not your "typical" seven and a half year old. But he is smart. Wise. Incredibly sensitive. The only thing "wrong" with him? He is the most stubborn person I have ever met. Once he makes a decision about something, look out. It's a long, sometimes painful (maddening, infuriating) road to convince him otherwise (it could be anything from wanting cheese crackers when there are none to refusing to get on the school bus in the morning).

Interestingly enough, the recent school evaluation (conducted every three years to determine proper placement/eligibility) we've been waiting for had a similar finding (except for the maddening, infuriatingly stubborn part). Leo's reading close to grade level. His receptive language is that of an eleven-year-old. And we're in an interesting little predicament now because for the past two and a half years, Leo has spent the bulk of his day in a self-contained classroom for "mildly cognitively delayed."

And now? Seems he's not technically cognitively delayed. Perhaps learning disabled or language delayed (I'd argue he has articulation issues vs. delays but whatever). The point is, Leo's "team" (teacher, therapists, school psychologist) are faced with something they say they've never really seen before. And they are working to create a new program for Leo. It's looking like it will probably be a combo of a typical classroom, some time in his present ("cognitive delayed") class and some time in the "language and learning delays" room.

And for the first time in the history of meetings with Leo's team, when I uttered the words "full inclusion," I was met with smiles and nods, rather than shrugs and "we'll have to see how it goes."

Things are about to get even more interesting.

Holiday Kickoff, an Absence of Melancholy and a Dose of Normalcy

Today was a big day. Ellie had her school holiday concert and party and then it was off to Leo's annual holiday ("Dress to Impress") luncheon.

I emailed this photo to my dad early this morning and his reaction was: "You grabbed your daughter's soul for all the world to see." It's true. This is Ellie.

The best thing about today? I felt somewhat normal. I hope the babies don't take offense to the fact that my feeling "normal" seems to coincide with having a baby sitter for much of the day (they did not accompany me to Leo's luncheon nor my afternoon of blissful, baby/kid-free shopping).

Sure, I had the babies with me for Ellie's concert but that was fine because a preschool concert is not exactly a pristine and silent environment (i.e. it was not a big deal when Harry fussed). I happened to sit behind another set of twins (ten weeks, OY. Cute and tiny but MAN am I glad those early days are behind us) and I felt positively veteran-like. But this was the first kid concert I've attended where I haven't gotten teary. I used to be such a sap. Am I too tired to get emotional over the passing of time? Have the babies and their tireless demands steeled me against melancholy (this might not be a terrible thing)? I do feel, much of the time, that I'm simply on auto-pilot, there is just so.much.to.do.no.time.to.think. Am I just too busy to get choked up? I don't know. But I noticed it.

To say that Ellie was excited about her concert would be putting it mildly. She's been singing "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" and "Eight Little Candles" for two weeks straight. Every morning she asks if today is her concert and when I told her last night before bed that tomorrow was her concert? Well. She pretty much exploded.

And there she was this morning, bounding down the stairs, Christmas plaid taffeta and velvet dress (with matching leggings thanks Grandma Jerry) in hand. She dressed herself quietly and seriously and proceeded to prance around the room singing to herself ("Practicing," she explained, since "Today is my concert day and it's also my lucky day. Did you know your concert day is your lucky day?")

I did not.

Later Ellie asked me if she had another concert tomorrow. When I told her no, her face fell.

Shouldn't every day include a stage? Ellie seems to think so.

Leo's luncheon was delightful, just as it was last year (I enjoyed it much more this year since I wasn't overcome with morning sickness induced nausea and smell aversions--last year it was all I could do to feign interest in my stuffed shells and not run screaming from the "scents" of the elementary school cafeteria). I didn't get any good pictures this year but that's ok, since Leo wasn't feeling very well (bad cold). It was nice to just sit with him and be there for Just Him, something I really never get to do these days.

"Life-y Chaos"

Life-y Chaos. That's what my dad coined our house following a recent stay with the six of us. He has a point. It's definitely life-y here and oh yes, the chaos. I'd like to think that it's slightly organized, but chaos? l'll give him that.

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.

This Post Brought To You By Grandparents

(minus one grandchild, Leo was at school.)

Still alive. Still here. Busy. What else is new?

I did not mean to take such a hiatus here.

Grandparents visited from Oregon. Wonderful to have so many arms to hold so many babies. And children. A 4:4 ratio is positively humane and reasonable don't you think?

In other news, I asked Leo what he wants for Christmas/Hanukkah and he answered "Lucy and Harry." So at least my shopping for him will prove to be pretty easy.

Promise to update with more soon.