Waiting for Sandy

We're on storm watch. Don't even get me started. I am still recovering from the trauma of last year's Halloween storm. On the bright side, at least it's not snow that's forecasted and we don't have five month old twins with double ear infections?

Good thing we don't need bread. This is what shelves looked like at the grocery store yesterday. No extra charge for what Ellie dubs her "Fashion Pose." (I have no idea where she gets her style--certainly not from me.)

Or paper towels. (By the way, this marks the first official twinsie mischief. We wondered why it was so quiet in the mudroom...) Look at Lucy. She was so proud of herself. Harry was sheepish.

We've had to watch what we say this go 'round but we've had the radio and weather channel on a bit out of necessity and, well, these kids pay attention now (so inconvenient!). Ellie keeps asking about the hurricane and both Leo and Ellie are worried about what will happen if the lights go out. Last night, keeping a flashlight nearby seemed to soothe her fears.


A sampling of our emergency supplies: (from left: Fisher Price Dinosaur flashlight, Disney on Ice Light Up Doohickey, Battery powered-Dollar-Store pumpkin lantern.)

Thank goodness we're clearly prepared for anything.

Slice of Life

Debut

Breaking news: We have our first pig tails!

Live, From Third Grade

Leo's math teacher sent me more pictures this morning.

I love that she does this.

I also love the expression on Leo's face in that first shot.

"He looks so proud!" I replied in an email, to Mrs. L's pictures.

"He Is," Mrs. L wrote back.


These show Leo using the class' new smartboard. The school was awarded a grant which gave one to every classroom in the building. For those who don't know-and I didn't until last week's parent-teacher conference-it's essentially a giant, interactive computer screen and has rendered televisions/DVD players and overhead projectors (here's where I show my true age!) obsolete in many classrooms.

Speaking of the parent teacher conference, Leo is doing well at school. His teacher thinks we made a wonderful decision placing him in this new setting (as of September, we pulled him out of the "cognitively delayed" classroom and put him in a "language and learning disabilities" class).

All in all, it was a pretty uneventful conversation with the teacher (which, I guess, is what you want?).

*He's making friends, adjusting to an increased amount of responsibility (for the most part, he's in charge of his own schedule, for example he knows at 9 a.m. he has "inclusive PE," with the rest of the third grade, at 11:30 he has art, and so on).

*He is, according to his teacher, Mrs. F., one of the best readers in the class.

*He's making friends. One of his most loved activities is the morning "Snack and Conversation" where the students sit in a circle (and yes, have snack) and talk about a prompted subject: "What I did over the weekend" or "The Best Thing I Did On My Summer Vacation." While the students do sometimes have difficulty understanding him, they all sincerely try to figure out what he's saying. As they get to know him better, it's becoming easier.

*Meanwhile, we are seeing a huge improvement in Leo's speech since the start of the school year and I can only presume it's related to the fact that he's surrounded by kids with much better speech and more sophisticated vocabularies. Leo's speech is becoming more natural, more, conversational. At night I walk in the door and he asks me "How was your day, Mommy?" It's little things: he's using words like "quietly" and "carefully."

*The subject Leo continues to struggle the most with is math. I'm quite confident this is genetic and has nothing to do with extra chromosomes since I was an absolute disaster in math too. "Is he doing third grade math?" asked Mrs. F. "No, we're going much slower for him because it's taking longer for him to figure certain concepts out. But that's just fine and he's progressing and that's exactly what we want to see."

*His favorite day is still Friday, when Mrs. L., the math teacher brings in her "therapy" dog Finn. The children read to Finn and visit with him. Leo is his Number One Fan (and yes, Mrs. L. promised to send me a picture she next time Finn makes a visit). Stay tuned.

Hayride 2012

As I mentioned, like half of the eastern seaboard, we went to the pumpkin patch over the weekend.

We almost didn't make it. Sometimes just leaving the house feels so daunting. The packing of the diaper bag, the changing of the clothes, the packing of the changes of clothes, to say nothing of beverages and snacks and and and...

We had what I'll call a moment in the mudroom, enroute to the car--did I mention Harry has mastered opening the mudroom door which means he is just feet from walking out the front door and down the steps? There I was, furiously gathering jackets and galoshes for the muddy fields, while balancing a 79-pound diaper bag on my shoulder. There was Erin, trying to stop Harry from making a break for the front door as well as Lucy, who is of course following Harry. Meanwhile Ellie is whining about not being able to find her wand! (an absolute must for the pumpkin patch!) and Leo is announcing that he has FOUND HIS DRAGON! Which of course makes the sting of the misplaced wand that much more painful.

Pure. Bedlam.

But once we get where we're going? It's almost always worth it.

And on Saturday afternoon, there was this:


A sun kissed, exquisite, absolutely perfect, golden fall day. In which all the whining and the fussing and the protesting falls away, in which all those insufferably hot and humid summer afternoons feel worth it, because you have this gorgeous autumn afternoon to behold.






We took our first hayride as a family of six.



Everyone was there, though we can't all fit in the same frame anymore.

Some preferred to stand.

Others brought friends.

And new friends were made.





New terrain was covered.

Sand! Who knew?



There were some technical difficulties with this model.

Leo preferred the full-size version. Can't blame him.

Everyone had a chance to explore, on their own terms.

But not for long!

These girls. Oh. My. Goodness.

Aaaand the boys.

Harry is so lucky to have Leo to show him the way.

The afternoon sun cast long shadows, naptime beckoned and it was time to choose the pumpkins.

It was truly a wonderful afternoon. But I think we could all agree that in the end,

everyone needed a beverage.

Or two.

The Weekend Before the Weekend Before Halloween

We took four children to the pumpkin patch today.

Fifty percent of the children. Oh sure, a shot of all of them together would have been nice, but YOU try getting all four in one place at the same time.

Another fifty percent. Harry was there! He was!

And now, I'm having some wine.

Sixteen Months: Laughing, Crying, and Still Marveling

It happens most often in the mornings, when everyone is (mostly) well-rested. After scrambled eggs and blueberry pancakes are finished and bottles have been guzzled. It happens amidst the restorative aroma of freshly brewed French roast, against a backdrop of constant, mind-numbing (yet festive!) Christmas Kidz Bop--yes, even in October.

There is Harry, opening cupboards and drawers, taking a stack of Rubbermaid lids from one drawer and putting them into another (thanks Harry, that drawer needed reorganizing!). There is Lucy, gesturing at the bin of crayons with the urgency of an artist who must create. And there are Lucy and Harry, fighting over stuffed fish and toddler-sized shopping carts and stacking cups. Collapsing into a dog pile onto the squishy blue carpet. Lucy uses Harry as a step stool, grabbing the back of his t-shirt as though it's a handle. Harry bursts into tears and throws his arms up for rescue.

That's when it happens. The realization, yet again, that there are two little ones in our house. One would think it would have sunk in by now, yes?

One toddler doing toddlery things (see below: washcloth on head) is adorable. Two? Well two is just ridiculous.

We've officially entered that tears in your eyes it's so cute (OK, maybe it's just me that gets teary) stage with the babies. They are such little comedians. And yes, almost every single day I am amazed by the fact that there are two little people in our house.

What's also amazing to me is they seem to know they are funny. Lucy thinks it's hilarious to put things on her head.

I guess babies like to make you laugh because they know you are so tired of cleaning up after them, you are in desperate need of humor. It's a thoughtful little gift that I do appreciate.


Harry, meanwhile, will climb onto or into anything (here, where he climbed the dollhouse? This is where I dubbed him Godzilla. Believe me, it suits him.)

He was so proud.

He panicked a little here, when he couldn't figure out how to get his foot out from under. And yes, he's sitting in a colander. Why do you ask?

As I watch these little people change daily, as I see them climb and peer and open and close and point, as they utter small, semi-comprehensible words, I am stunned once again and just as I was with Ellie, at the trajectory of their development.

I've often wondered, is it harder to have a baby with delays as your first? Not that it matters. In some ways I think it was easier because I had no idea what Leo was "supposed" to be doing. I remember running into an old friend when Leo was about nine months old. She knew I'd had a baby but didn't know the details and when I told her how old he was, she asked me if he was crawling. When I told her no she looked a little shocked, and quickly muttered something about every baby doing things at a different time. That's for sure. As a first-time mom I didn't know when most babies were "supposed" to do things (I wisely set aside What to Expect the First Year (as well the Second Year, the Third Year) since those books didn't apply to Leo in the least).

I was teased recently for marveling at the babies' receptive language abilities. What? Most moms of one year olds aren't throwing that term around?

Also? A little disclaimer here: I think only moms of kids with special needs can marvel without being self-conscious. I am in no way saying Lucy and Harry are amazing. I know they are doing what the majority of sixteen month olds are doing. But after having a baby who did nothing when he was "supposed" to? I think it's all pretty damn incredible. 

To wit: At sixteen months old, Lucy is already cleaning the house (that girl knows we need all the help we can get--wait--should I be insulted?). A few days ago she picked up a pair of socks I had left by the door when I took off my boots, and she brought them to the laundry basket. A few days later, Harry unceremoniously spit-up on the living room floor and I heard Lucy shrieking and stomping her little pajama footed feet. I rushed to her side to find her pointing at the little "bit" that Harry had left us. She was quite alarmed and disturbed by the predicament.

Harry doesn't have as many words as Lucy (who is just like Ellie was: total parrot who will repeat everything). No, our Harry seems to be speaking some variant of German. Everything has a "ch" or incomprehensibly "hard" sound at the end. Harry's strength for now seems to lie in his gross motor abilities and he's definitely the more aggressive explorer of the two. Have I mentioned how strong he is? The babies weigh almost exactly the same amount (about 23 pounds at their fifteen month check-up) and yet Harry has this inner core of steel. He is like Leo: pure, solid, boy muscle.

Last weekend I turned around and found Harry carrying around a bag of flour. He was tossing it about like a water balloon, actually. The other day when I took the two to the backyard to play, Harry was able to effortless barrel down our semi-inclined driveway with all the grace of a Jamaican sprinter. Lucy, meanwhile, who has been walking almost two months less than Harry, took about four steps downhill before smacking her forehead quite dramatically on the pavement. For some strange reason she was spared a goose egg.

They are both really into books right now, flipping the pages. (Upside down, right side up, no matter).

Mostly, they are like puppies. They love to play catch fetch with Leo's little foam ball, and when they see you gathering the coats and calling to them that "It's time to go," they rush to the door and stomp and press their little noses to the glass, so eager to go out into the world.

I was informed yesterday by my dear stepmother that I might soon need to stop calling them "the babies."

Nooooooooooo!

From the moment I found out we were having two babies, I've been self-conscious about saying "twins," for fear of lumping them together too much, robbing them of their individuality. I can definitely see the convenience factor of "the twins." We call Leo and Ellie "the big kids." So, why not "the twins?" I feel like these two will always be ma babies. But I guess, come high school? Babies could get a little awkward.

LucyandHarry it is.