And, We're BACK! With Four Year Olds and Some Thoughts on Summer

I suppose the great thing about not blogging forever is that when you DO finally blog, you have a lot to say, right?

Let's just jump right in, shall we?

Last week the twins turned four. FOUR.

Celebrating, a day early. This is the first year I made two cakes.

Ask me how on earth this happened and where the last four years of my life went and I will say I HAVE NO IDEA.


At four, Harry is a highly observant little conversationalist. He is thoughtful, loves to asks questions about how things work and it's safe to say his language has EXPLODED. He is still highly emotional (I've lost track of how many times we've had to threaten to take his Lego blocks away after he crumbles when something doesn't "fit" quite right or a Lego vehicle falls apart). We are working on ways for him to manage his many, MANY feelings (the majority of them involving his beloved Lego blocks). He is still a bit of a stunt man, falling off chairs and practically diving head first into rooms. He can be a real snuggler when he wants to be. He eats apples almost as if they are an obsession and can play quietly and independently for very long stretch (one word: Lego).


At four, Lucy continues to be one of the happiest, smiliest people I've ever known. Ebullient is really the word I would use to describe her. She is strong-willed (highly unusual amongst four year olds, I know-HA HA HA) and independent, which is fabulous when she is doing what she's asked to do (put her pajamas on by herself) but not so terrific when she's decided that she DOESN'T want to do what you've asked her to do (put her pajamas on). Have I mentioned that both she and her twin brother are teaching me a thing or two about tantrums? Ahem. Lucy loves to color, draw and play with anything related to horses. She is definitely able to entertain herself more, lining up La La Loopsy girls and creating complicated scenarios and conversations with them. But her favorite playmate of all these days is her big sister Ellie. When Ellie gets home from school it's as though Lucy's day really starts. Last night I overheard her out in the backyard calling, "Eleanor! ELEANOR! You come here! Because I love you and I want to be with you all the time!"

It's hard to believe a little over a year from now these two will be heading off to kindergarten. They still seem SO LITTLE to me and it seems like they have so much maturing to do. I know that a lot happens between turning four and almost turning five. It really is a sweet age (when it's not maddening), and I'm trying hard to enjoy things when I can and not be driven completely insane when things get, shall we say, frustrating.

The school year ends in a little less than two weeks. Like most parents, I'm looking forward to a slower change of pace and perhaps am a little nervous about making everything work. Trust me when I sway I needed a bottle of wine, a spreadsheet and a bank robbery to figure out camps and schedules for all these small people.

Leo and Harry have summer school in July, then Leo goes to camp for all of August, Ellie is attending a variety of camps (art, science, gymnastics) for one week stints but is definitely going to home more this summer than she's ever been before (we shall see about that--she's promised me that she wants this, that she's ready for "down" time--but the jury is out on how this will play). Lucy's schedule is the only one that won't change, she's still doing preschool five mornings a week (though her school becomes a bit more "layed-back" and "camp-like" during the summer months, with water play and theme weeks (camping week, space week, fairy tale week).

Hopefully it will all be JUST FINE and everyone will be reasonably happy, but if not, I am trying to keep this in mind.

It's my mantra for the summer and really should be, even beyond. Erin and I have a running joke that someone is always not quite happy. Eating lunch outside? Three of them cheer and one pipes up, But it's cold! I need a sweater! I want to eat inside! Watching a movie? Three of them agree but one complains, I don't wanna watch that one! We watched it last week! And ask me how hard it is to make dinner (heck, ANY MEAL) for four children and have them all content. It's just not possible. And for a people pleaser like me, it can be exhausting--that endless, constant feeling that something is always not quite right. So, Summer of 2015. Wish us luck!

Newsflash: Not Everyone Likes You

Like most kids after school, Ellie isn't usually very forthcoming about her day. Our conversation is probably the same as it is for millions of parents and kids everywhere:

Me: How was your day, Buddy?

Ellie: Fine.

Me: Did you do anything interesting?

Ellie: No.

But this week Ellie burst from the crowd of jostling second grade elbows and backpacks with a lot to say.

"Something happened today, Mommy. Something not very nice."

I'll give you the abbreviated version, because the Ellie version was, shall we say, detailed.

According to Ellie, it was during recess and she and a group of children were playing basketball. Ellie said she noticed that some people were only cheering for one of the players.


That's Ellie on the right, saying: "That might hurt other kids' feelings."


Ellie announced that she didn't think it was very nice and one of the girls (who was doing the cheering) shouted, "You're not the coach, Ellie!" And that's when a bunch of people laughed.

Thus ensued a lot of she said, she said. I think Ellie was mostly embarrassed. And she felt misunderstood. She was just trying to help. She was looking out for the other kids who weren't getting cheered for. And the girl who accused her of being the coach is someone that is mentioned quite a bit when it comes to conflict. She and Ellie just seem to spar.

I found the drawings above when I was cleaning out Ellie's room (I try to keep out of her room as much as I can but she will not part with a single piece of paper and wants to save everything--her desk had become unusable--there were actually coloring pages from Thanksgiving on it, so it was time).

She did these drawings after I read to her and tucked her into bed one night this week. Clearly, she was really, really bothered by the exchange on the playground. That night she also wrote a letter to the girl, who she said she "really wanted to work thing out" with. In the letter, Ellie apologized for what she called a "misunderstanding." She stayed up late writing this note and she crept downstairs around 9:30 and asked me if I thought she should give it to the girl or read it to her. I told her I wasn't sure and what did she think? We concluded she would think about it, and decide later how to handle the note.

The next day after school, Ellie informed me that she talked to her teacher and that she, the girl and the guidance counselor were going to get together to talk about things. I told her I thought that was a good idea. I know you are all on the edge of your seats about the outcome of that meeting but it apparently hasn't happened yet.

This morning Ellie brought up the girl again. "I hope we can work things out," Ellie said quietly, out of the blue, as she waited for her toast. Clearly, this is something that is weighing on her and occupying a lot of her thoughts. I feel for her. In a word, girls suck (don't worry, I was good--I didn't tell her that).

But I remember the pain of fourth grade (fourth grade!) and not knowing who was going to be my friend on any given day And as we all know, it starts earlier and earlier (as is evidenced by Ellie's second grade "drama.") And honestly? Does it ever really end? But a wonderful thing comes with age: we just stop caring what people think of us and boy is it THE BEST.

As I waited for Ellie's toast to pop, thoughts of fourth grade and sixth grade and eleventh grade and 27-year old (and hell-40-year old!) spats swirled around in my head. Finally I looked at Ellie and said: You know what Sweetie? You are doing everything right. You're voicing your feelings. You're explaining your side of the story. You're apologizing when it's appropriate. You are nice to people and you do your best. That's ALL you can do. The simple fact is, not everyone likes everyone. This girl just might not want to be your friend. And you know what? That's OK. I mean, think about it. Do you want to be EVERYONE'S friend?

Ellie shook her head and said she guessed not.

I am in no way belittling or negating Ellie's feelings. I just felt the need to share with her the simple lesson I wish I'd learned a LONG time ago and it's not an easy one to swallow when you're a people pleaser like I am (and like I know Ellie is). Not everyone is going to like you. And that's OK.

It's probably cold comfort for a seven year old who wants everyone to be her friend, but I felt better saying it, and I hope she heard just a little of it, even if it doesn't get fully absorbed for another thirty five years.

Broadway Bound

Saturday night the four of us braved (another) winter storm and headed into the City. It was cold and snowy and blustery and the streets were treacherous and oddly unplowed--in short, leaving the house was about the last thing I wanted to do.


Our local train station always looks so romantic at night.

But we had a very, VERY important destination.

BROADWAY. For Leo and Ellie's first show: (Aladdin)!


Photo courtesy The Washington Post

I was twenty six when I saw my first Broadway show, on a trip to New York a few month before moving there (it was "Rent" of course). What lucky kids these guys are!


Terrible picture, wonderful time.


The excitement was palpable. "How many more minutes, Mommy?" I must have heard that about fifteen times. I can't say I blamed her. It IS a big deal.

The show was wonderful. Like all great Broadway musicals it had fabulous music, wonderful dancing and stunning special effects.

As the lights went up at intermission I leaned forward to gauge Leo's reaction. "Mommy, I love it!" he announced, grinning from ear to ear.



But of course it wasn't just about the play--it was about being able to share this experience with the kids. I've been playing them Broadway show tunes since they were infants and they know that Broadway is a big deal to me (I'm a self-professed Musical Theater Nerd, as you know). So now they know what all the fuss is about, and they have first hand proof that their Mommy isn't too crazy after all--that Broadway IS pretty amazing.

January Moments

Snow Day: Still life with outerware.

Let's face it. There's not much that's nice about January.

I forget how much I do not enjoy this time of year. The cold, the unpredictability of snow storms and potential snow days (which I have to admit, I don't dread as much as a I used to, both because I don't have to stress about attempting a commute into the city, coupled with the fact that the children are much better about amusing themselves on a day stuck at home). At least that's nice (trying to find a positive spin, can you tell?).


Snow days: Not what they used to be! (That's a snowman with his scooter and basketball, by the way--because, of course).

Nope, this is definitely not the easiest time of the year.  The holidays are over. Spring is a looooong ways away. It's cold. Did I mention it's cold?


This picture was taken back when we could see our driveway. Now? Not so much. Snow, snow and more snow.


We are doing our best to make lemonade out of the snow. Or, in my case, virgin bloody marys (see my glass, above). It was early Sunday morning and I was dreaming about a kid-free, bloody-mary-and-The-New-York-Times-Long-Brunch. Instead, we did a Valentine craft.


I'm going to the library as often as possible. The twins love when I bring home grocery bags of books, devouring them immediately. I usually just take Leo and Ellie with me to the actual library--when I pulled into the parking lot last time they both cheered, so I guess I must be doing something right.

Before the snow and deep freeze pummeled us, the Oregon Grandparents were here for their semiannual winter visit.



We took our traditional trip to our local zoo on New Year's Eve day and it was as magical as ever. For some reason--maybe it's that it's never above 25 degrees when we go, or because everyone has overdosed on the zoo (its "holiday zoo lights" display brings people from far and wide), but there is never anyone else there on New Year's Eve day. Seriously it's like having a private zoo, all to ourselves.



It was just the wolves and us. And yes, they were pretty much licking their chops at these scrumptious children.






One of the best parts about a frigid visit to the zoo is the hot chocolate/donut warm-up that follows.


The next day we feasted on Jewish deli food and watched the big Oregon game. It was fun to have family around to cheer on our "home" team. Most importantly, Ellie and Leo learned the art of chest bumping. (Thanks, Grandpa).


We bid the grandparents a sad goodbye, went back to school and Lucy managed to fall flat on her face and get her first black eye, earning her a new nickname, "Rocky." (I didn't know you could get a black eye wiping out the way Lucy did, but apparently you can).

But by far I think one of my favorite January moments was when Jake and Adam, Leo's buddies from the Friendship Circle, came over for a surprise visit while they were home visiting from college. It took Leo months to stop asking for these guys, who have been spending an hour every weekend with Leo since he was four and they were thirteen. So I thought it would be fun to surprise Leo and not tell him they were coming.



It was better than I could have ever imagined.

Full Circle or "I Want to Help People"

It took years--YEARS for me to feel safe letting Leo walk in a parking lot without holding my hand, to leave the front door unlocked with him playing in the living room or mudroom or better yet--the FRONT YARD (fence-less) unattended.

I didn't think the day would ever come that I would go to a birthday party with him and not worry the whole time about where all the entrances and exits were, or that I wouldn't wait for the call to come from school saying he had vanished, walked out of a classroom and down the street, never to be heard from again.



And now, he's helping children cross the street. Of course with some supervision. But still! Talk about Full Circle.

Leo first mentioned safety patrol back in the fall. I admit, I dropped the ball. I don't recall seeing a form or application about it come home school, but it may have. I meant to ask his teacher about it but I forgot. Last week the application arrived in his homework folder, front and center, along with a note from Mrs. W: "Leo wants to be on Safety Patrol. Please have him fill out this application and return on Monday."

OK then.

This afternoon, Leo pulled the the neon yellow Safety Patrol sash out of his backpack as though it was a gold medal from the summer games. "My dream came true!" he exclaimed, practically vibrating with joy and pride.

It's no secret Leo loves to help people. If you have as much as a hang-nail he will lovingly prepare an ice pack (he prefers ice cubes wrapped in paper towels--don't ask) and present you with an assortment of Hello Kitty, Buzz Lightyear and Tinkerbell Band-Aids. He will rub your back and prop you up on pillows and announce, "I want to help people."

Erin and I were talking this weekend about how the perfect job would be something in a nurturing field--who knows-maybe a hospital or nursing home. As long as he's happy, and fulfilled--that's all we care about.

Safety Patrol seems like a pretty great start.

December Days (And Nights)

Happy 2015 to all. My days of commemorating Christmas in a timely manner and writing an eloquent new year send off are apparently on hold for the time being. But I hope you won't lose patience with me and forget about us. Someday I will be eloquent and timely, but now is not that time.

The kids are back to school after a lovely, noisy, messy, hilarious never-a-dull-moment winter break (what's that you say? You can hear me shrieking with glee all the way from New Jersey?).

Of course I joke. As my dad is fond of saying, "All good things must come to an end." There is only so much familytogetherness and staying up late to watch "Grease" and eating as many M&Ms a little person (and her parents) can take before we all run screaming for 8:00 p.m. bedtimes and wheat grass (probably no wheat grass for the kids).

But before that, there was December. Blissful, hopeful, sparkly, glittery, twinkly, all-wrapped-up in teachers' gifts and homemade chocolate oatmeal cookies and holiday school luncheons and Santa visits and staying in our pajamas all day long. Because we could, December.


This visit to Santa was hard-won. I thought I was so clever to wait until late in the season to take them (less crowds) but we still managed to arrive while the Big Guy was on break. Which meant tacking on an extra fifteen minutes to our wait. Which was totally fine of course since three year olds LOVE to wait in line (said no one never). Also? Super grouchy Santa. Notice how no one is sitting on his lap? Luckily I don't think the kids noticed, but what I noticed is, it's no longer about parking for a spell on Santa's knee and casually chatting with him and telling him what you want. It's about, what size photo package would you like, ma'am? Click. Next. Oh well. We'll still be back next year. I finally got organized and framed all the Santa pics from over the years and it's fun to see the progression (and a little terrifying to see how much bigger everyone is from year to year). I'm big on tradition, even if it does sometimes come with a dose of crabby.


Hanukkah came close to Christmas this year, which is always a treat (although it still snuck up on me as it always does and I was the crazy woman shopping at Target on Hanukkah morning, hysterically throwing "Frozen" socks and Transformers and coloring books and Spiderman tooth brushes in  my cart). Speaking of gifts, the twins also now think that the custom is to get Hanukkah gifts in the morning--due to a combination of their early bedtime and the fact that since they would surely would surely want to play with whatever gift they got, I saved their presents for the morning. Let's just say they caught on to this right quick and it took a full week after Hanukkah was over for Harry to stop greeting me with "I want to go downstairs and get my Hanukkah present" every morning.



This was the first year that big kids lit candles "by their own" (as Lucy would say), and the first year that the twins allowed the candles to stay lit (you may recall last year, when Lucy insisted on singing "Happy Birthday" and was furious when I wouldn't allow her to blow them out). This year Ellie and Leo also came close to memorizing the Hanukkah blessing.


Once upon a time, Leo's school hosted an annual "holiday lunch" for students and parents. It's been a few years since they held one but I was happy to learn it was back on for this year. Harry was already home from school by lunch time so Dudes in Holiday Sweaters, it was.


There were also preschool holiday concerts (with the requisite Santa visit with the suddenly "shy" Lucy).

There were painted Christmas cookies (edible egg wash).

And more cookies.


There were cards sent home from school that made my heart swell and my eyes tear (see above, from Leo): "I love our family." SOB.

Right before Christmas (two days before winter break) Ellie was felled by an atrocious stomach bug (is there such a thing as a non-atrocious stomach bug?) that she was kind enough to give me as an early Christmas gift. This made the last minute Christmas crunch (teacher gifts, wrapping of and delivering of said teacher gifts), shopping, meal prepping quite, um, challenging?


Fortunately, I was much better by Christmas Eve and able to mostly participate in one of my favorite activities, which is staying up late, watching the beloved "It's a Wonderful Life" and wrapping ALL the Christmas presents with Erin. Usually this is accompanied by Bailey's, but with my body still not being at 100 percent, I skipped it this year. I KNOW.


We were busy, busy elves.


Christmas dawned early (as it does every day). Within seconds the living room was a wrapping paper battlefield (note to self: we need a better Unwrap the Christmas Presents System. Anyone have any recs for "big" families and small, impatient children?). The bouche de Noel (see above) didn't fair much better than the presents.


Later in the day, my trusty assistants and I (eager to test-drive new gifts) fetched Chinese takeout (Nobody felt like cooking and I hardly felt like eating so it was perfect).


As night fell, we did something I'm sure no other family in the world did on Christmas (see above). PS., if you didn't know already? Leo IS Elsa (he doesn't allow anyone in the room to speak when he performs "Let it Go" alongside her).


Ellie stayed up late on Christmas night painting (with a new easel and paint set from Grandma Jerry).


Lucy asked to bring "just a few" of her gifts to bed.


Harry fell asleep with one of his favorite presents (that was of course, actually Leo's).


And it was, the Best Christmas Ever.

Greetings From a Very Grateful "Fifth Wheel"

Yes, this already happened. We may be a little excited.

I refuse to let a whole month go by with no posting.

Time marches on. Fall is a blur. We've already had our first snow fall.


Did I mention we had our first ever (that I can recall) white Thanksgiving?


Speaking of Thanksgiving, its spoils (the crafts and cards that the children bring home) never get old: Oh Leo, how I love YOU!


We are still trying to figure out Leo's placement for next year. More on that to come. I am in deep, deep (did I mention DEEP?) denial that this year is his last year of elementary school which is another way of saying that next year means middle school. Change is hard (for me). Leo has had a good few months, just finished up his first season of soccer on a special needs team and he's excited about the upcoming basketball season (same league).



I am ridiculously late to posting just about everything that happened in the last few months--this picture feels like a million hundred years ago but Ellie had a blast playing soccer this season. She was incredibly spirited and excited and I think just genuinely loved being a part of a team. She cried when the season ended ("I won't get to see any of the girls on my team anymore!"). She's devouring books (Dan Gutman is her favorite author) and leading us all in holiday craft time (my favorite of late is the ornament she made today, composed of red and green construction paper  that said simply: "2014: I was 7.")


This girl continues to push every button of my soul, even buttons I didn't know I existed. She barrels through her little life as her twin brother does, but in a different way. I've never known someone who could be so gleeful as she was being insistent. Often it seems like there simply are no rules in Lucy's life. When I tell her not to do something I'm met with, "Oh MOMMY," and I can almost hear her cluck her little tongue at me as she goes about her merry way, fetching her loaf of bread and jar of blueberry jam out of the refrigerator even though it's only 9:30 am, not lunch time  or even snack time and LUCY PUT DOWN THE STEAK KNIFE PLEASE. She's in that challenging "Uppy MOMMY!" phase--it's stunning how she can be so needy and yet so mind-numbingly independent at the same time. Case in point: Tonight I marveled at her ability to put on her own pajamas--she meticulously layed them out on the green shag rug and slipped each miniature leg into a sleeve of knit lavender polka dot legging. "I did it ALL by myself!" She squealed proudly.

And then barely missing a beat, she announced she didn't want to wear those pajamas. She wanted her CHEETA pajamas. Because, of course!!

Sometimes when I get truly desperate, I remind myself that she just wants attention--there's a lot of competition in our house and everyone has a different tactic in getting theirs. And just when I think she is going to throw herself on the ground or burst into tears and refuse to acquiesce, she'll shrug her tiny shoulders and say Oh, OK. Three year olds. They are just little mysteries aren't they?


Harry holds court at the traditional (preschool) feast of chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese.

Harry is thriving at preschool. His language is exploding and his sentences are becoming more complex. "Mommy, I want to go downstairs and eat my dinner. Pick me up!" (This is his command to me every morning--by the way, dinner=breakfast). He continues to have a predilection for falling head first off of chairs and spilling the equivalent of buckets of seltzer (Oh HARRY! is still heard several times a day at our house), but it's partly how he barrels through his little life that makes him so irresistible. When he and Lucy are not having complicated conversations about who has which body part, and disagreeing about who ate all the Pirate Booty, they are telling us they love us. In the last few months Harry and Lucy have become confirmed playmates (they have been all along of course but the "parallel play" has officially graduated into more detailed, organized activities and scenarios. Ellie is often the ring leader: "Let's play Superheros! Let's play Evil Fairies! Let's play Snow Queens!"

I've been meaning to mention this for the last oh, three months (sorry, blog): More and more I feel like the most giant Fifth Wheel in the history of wheels around these four. They play and play and oh sure, fight and bicker and squable and someone bursts into tears and then someone yells and then someone apologizes. And then they go back to playing Snow Queens.


When they asked to do Play-Doh this weekend I cringed inwardly (it usually takes longer to set it up and clean up the mess than the time it takes to actually play it) but with no better ideas to offer (it was 29 degrees outside), I agreed. What followed was an unprecedented TWO HOUR PLAY-DOH MARATHON. I know.

It's amazing. And I never thought I would like being "left out" out of anything. But the other day I took a shower in the morning while they were all downstairs, just playing. I think it's fair to say I never thought that day would come. Life, it does go on.