Stop the Merry-Go-Round, I Want to Get Off (Maybe Louisa May Alcott Can Help)

Our first trip to Mystic in three years, taken a few weeks ago. It's...wait for it...actually FUN to travel with big kids. Finally!!

And then they were thirteen, ten, seven and seven.

Oh, hey!

There are something like seven (?) days of school left (my children count it down daily but I am in full denial mode here so I'm honestly not really sure don't want to know).

It's a real season of change over here and I'm doing my best to keep it all together not cry too much at all of the end of/last time we'll ever do this ceremonies. Leo is graduating middle school (therefore entering high school in the fall) and Ellie's leaving elementary school (entering middle school in the fall).

It is a monumental cliche but it's one that I find myself coming back to over and over again. The merry-go-round. I remember the years when the twins were three and four and about to be five as soooo long. Kindergarten (read: full-day school) felt like a beacon of hope. It felt like it would NEVER come. And then it did. And now the "babies" are about to be second graders.

What. The. Heck.

The morning of their seventh birthday, last week. Still characters, after all these years.

And now I feel I'm just kind of holding on as the changes rumble around me. They're going to happen. They are good things. But it doesn't change the fact that I'm a little bit of a mess because of them.

One of the things that is probably most contributing to the mess that I am? The looming clouds of adolescence in my oldest daughter. It was strikingly clear as we prepared to attend last week's Girl Scouts "moving up" ceremony. It's a simple ceremony held every year, I've attended them since she began participating in Girl Scouts in first grade and "graduated" from Daisies to Brownies. Those early ceremonies were full of enthusiasm and unbridled energy--those Daisies and Brownies? They literally BOUNCE and VIBRATE. It's...adorable. Loud, but adorable.

In the mudroom of our house, in the midst of the chaos that is the putting on of shoes and grabbing of jackets and assembly of "supplies" to keep the twins occupied for "boring events:" (in this case it was just Harry, since Lucy, a Daisy was actually in the ceremony) pens! paper! books! Ellie began to cry. She didn't even WANT to go to the ceremony. She didn't even WANT to be in Girl Scouts. She gripped a crumpled teal Girl Scouts vest in her hand, fat tears, rolling down her flushed cheeks. 

Whaaaaaa? This was news to me. I had just spent thirty minutes ironing patches on her Juniors vest (after she reminded me to do so). It would be the last time she'd ever wear that vest. 

Just a few weeks ago there had been an email from her troop leaders about next year, when the girls would transition to Cadettes. I had asked Ellie if she wanted to continue in Girl Scouts and she replied with an enthusiastic Yes.

But, as I've learned to do with All Things Tween, I didn't push it. Even though my mind was racing, I remained quiet. We went to the ceremony. Ellie participated (a bit subdued, perhaps, but maybe I was projecting?), wearing her vest. The only tears at the ceremony came from me. Will she quit Girl Scouts as she enters middle school? I don't know. Obviously, if she does it's not the End Of The World and there are certainly larger life/world issues to contend to. But it all feels...monumental, somehow.

Lucy, a Daisy (for the remainder of the evening, at least) did all the bouncing and vibrating at Thursday night's ceremony. But as I sat there eating room temperature baked ziti (more delicious than it sounds, actually) courtesy of the pre-ceremony pot luck, I remembered so clearly only a few years before, when Ellie had been the one doing the bouncing. I squinted, and just for a moment, there she was in her Brownies vest, sitting on the risers with all the other eight year old girls, tousled hair, all knobby kneed and sweating and grinning and fidgeting.

I think some of this grief can be attributed to the fact that I feel like much of the time when Ellie was a really little girl, I was knee deep in twin babies and toddlers and was just so distracted. In some ways, I feel like I missed a lot of her little girl life. I mean, I was there of course, but I was...busy. And so I see Lucy, still quite little, still bouncing and I know from experience just how FAST it all goes.

A few weeks ago on the Mystic trip. My big girl and me. 

I used to read to Ellie before bed, every night. I did this up until just a few months ago. It wasn't something we discussed formally "ending" it just seemed to fade out naturally. She stopped asking and I stopped offering and then it just became a back rub and a little chat. Sometimes we'd talk about an upcoming event or we'd laugh about an old drawing tacked to her bulletin board. And sometimes it would be brief--just be a kiss and tuck-in. But the fact that I wasn't reading to her anymore also felt...monumental. Like something had shifted. Aged. Entered new, big kid territory. Then a few weeks ago, Ellie asked me to read to her. I agreed enthusiastically. Maybe she wasn't such a Big Kid after all? But then came the conundrum: What to read? At almost eleven, she's graduated to YA fiction (I KNOW) and she seems...embarrassed? Uncomfortable? at the thought of me reading her one of those books. So there was still the matter of figuring out what we could read together.

Friday night we were watching TV and it was getting late. Ellie turned to me. 

"You know what I was thinking, Mommy? That you could read me Little Women." 

It wasn't completely out of left field. A few weeks ago, I'd forced the girls to watch the girls and I had watched the 1994 film version with Winona Ryder and they'd both really enjoyed it. Little Women was a book I'd always wanted to read with Ellie. We'd just never gotten around to it.

I mean. I almost burst into tears right there. Little Women. Yes. YES.

So maybe, it turns out, I do still have her. For a few more pages, at least. 

Fall Round-Up, Before It Becomes Winter

First day of school, September 2016.

It has happened. They are all in full day school.

Intellectually, I knew the day would come (and to be honest, it's what got me through the summer). But the reality of adding another four hours of kid-free time to my work day (and my non-work days) cannot pass without notation, reflection and yes, celebration.

For the last year, we've had ridiculous mornings that involved all of us waiting outside for Leo's bus, then hurriedly packing into the van to dash to Lucy's school, then racing home to (on a good day) meet Harry's bus (on a bad day, Harry would be late to school because I'd have to drive him AFTER I dropped Ellie off). On a good day, Ellie and I would have a "leisurely" ten minutes to get ready to drive down the street to her school, where I would drop her off (no walking big girls down to the black top necessary).

The twins have adjusted unbelievably well to full-day kindergarten, which in my mind, speaks to how ready they were for it. In the mornings, Lucy, perhaps the world's Most Social Person Ever (she did not get it from me, I assure you) leaps from the car and bounds down the hill toward her little row of squirmy friends as though she's just been informed they'll be taking a field trip to the Magic Kingdom. Nope, just kindergarten. She's FINE with that. The other day I casually hung her (and Harry's class picture) up in her bedroom. Well. There went a good thirty minutes after she discovered this little gem. "I can't believe there's a picture of ALL my friends! MOMMY? Do you want to hear me say all their names?"




Harry is less forthcoming with details of his day though it's clear by the way he greets his little posse of buddies (full body hugs, let's just say) that he's also bonded. He is quick to tell me who sat out at recess and who got a "red square" (for bad behavior). They are learning Spanish: "Uno, dos, tres, tacos cincos, seis." They are both starting to write more, asking how to spell words and copying letters independently to make up their own words. I had forgotten how magical it is to watch young children learn to read, as their little worlds burst wide open.

And Ellie in fourth grade, Leo in seventh. It's exciting and terrifying. Yes, the little ones still make me nuts (though with less frequency) and yet I want to stop time because I know this is the Last Time they'll go to the kindergarten pumpkin patch and the last time they will experience elementary school for the first time ("MOMMY! I got to walk to the office and be a messenger! With Devon as my partner!!") and their enthusiasm is adorable and heartwarming. And yes, even when they follow me into the bathroom ("It's because I LIKE you!" Harry explains) I remind myself they're not always going to like me this much. Also. I love having big kids. With election season, it's been such fun talking politics. Ellie begs to stay up late to watch the debates and of course falls asleep next to me on the couch, but still.


Lucy's depiction of Donald Trump: "He's crying because he lost the election."


Halloween has come and gone--in our house it actually begins around late August ("MOMMY? Can we put up the Halloween decorations?" is literally a daily question). This year we had a cowgirl, a last minute Spiderman (I really thought he'd be Batman for a third year in a row but no such luck) and of course, Elphaba, from "Wicked." And for the second year in a row, Ellie trick or treated with friends instead of us. How quickly they become "too cool?" Perhaps, but in this case I really think it's more practical reasons that has her looking elsewhere for trick or treating options: Let's face it. We aren't the fastest candy fetching crew. Five year olds get tired quickly AND they're afraid of the dark. You do the math.


One of my favorite pictures of Halloween night. Darkness fell. The whining began. Too dark. Too cold. I'm tired. Uppy! One wanted to go one way, one wanted to go another. If this picture doesn't sum up the experience of parenting twins, I don't know what does.

Last Days of Disco

I registered the "babies" for kindergarten a few weeks ago.

I don't call them "babies" anymore of course, but that's what they will always be, technically.

The enormity of impending kindergarten is not lost on me.

It's been a looooong two years. It's been wonderful and maddening and exhausting and frustrating and ridiculous and hilarious and stressful and a gift.



When I lost my job just over two years ago, my life changed overnight. Never in a million years did I imagine myself as a "stay at home" mom (and I don't consider that I ever have been since I was fortunate enough to fairly effortlessly segue into steady, part-time freelance work at home). But there is no question that in the last two years I have been "home" much more than I ever was with any of my children. And I don't think I've made any secret of the fact that it hasn't been easy. Of course it hasn't been.



I feel like it's all been leading up to this--the "this" being kindergarten, aka, a full day to complete my work (imagine!) and all the other endless tasks that go along with a house of six that includes four young children. Right now, I bookend the bulk of my work in about three hours in the morning (the amount of time I have once I get all the various children to all of their various places before it's time to pick the twins up from school) and at night after they all go to bed. There's a babysitter in there when work gets particularly overwhelming. I also answer work emails and phone calls and address inquiries throughout the day. And yes, I am basically a crazy person because of this.

I despise being rushed. I abhor doing things "halfway." I detest leaving dishes in the sink and crumbs on the counter and Lego bricks on the carpet in front of the coffee table (OUCH) and laundry unfolded in a basket, but this is what I have learned to live with in the last few years. I pick my battles, I look the other way and I have learned the hell out of prioritizing, compartmentalizing and yes, time management.

I HATE losing my temper and running out of patience but I am human and I have done just this, more times than I am proud of. Because, helloooo, stress.



The days have been long, for sure. Going into this whole "working from home" gig, I knew this was IT. Once they start school? You lose a tiny bit of them that you just never get back. I know this because of Leo and Ellie. These last two years I've done my best to pack the twins' days while also getting my work done. Before they started school in those dark, snowy months right after my full-time job ended, we made the rounds at library story times and used afternoon grocery trips as a way to stay busy get out of the house. Then in September of 2014 both twins were in school five mornings a week, and I got a taste of what life COULD be like when I had the time and space that I had once known. It was a tease of the future, of a life with "big kids."



Once we were no longer slaves to the afternoon nap (at age three, when Lucy put an end to THAT nonsense (groan), the twins started the requisite afternoon classes--gymnastics and swimming at the local community center, two days a week. And sometimes (OK, often), trying to slide dry clothes onto wiggly, still-damp bodies that won't stand still long enough to get properly dried off is about the LAST thing I feel like doing, but I tell myself, SELF? This is it. This is what you do. Because there will never be 1pm swimming classes again, ever. And sometimes we even stop for ice cream on the way home, because that's what you do too.



And now, officially registered for kindergarten and on the precipice of full-day school for ALL four (three at the SAME school? What the what?), it just feels...big.



We sold this bad boy a few weeks ago. Of course we hadn't used it in a while but still...I haven't been without a stroller in my house for...eleven years. It's the end of an era, to be sure.

I've said this before and I'll say it again, as hard as things can feel sometimes, I do my very best not to wish time away. Some mornings when I'm getting breakfast on the table (three different drinks for four kids) and packing lunches and snacks into backpacks and someone is playing a keyboard and another person turns on "Knuffle Bunny" on the CD player at full volume, the very hairs on the back of my neck stand up because it is SO EFFING LOUD and it feels like the walls of the house are going to close in on me.

But then Leo's bus pulls up and he gets on and is off to middle school. And then the rest of us load into the van and sing "Cheerleader" on the way to Lucy's school. And then we get home and Harry's bus is waiting for him. And then it's just Ellie and me. And then she's skipping down the hill to the blacktop where the third, fourth and fifth graders line up.



And then, it's just me. And it's quiet. And sometimes it just feels altogether unfamiliar.

Girls' Weekend

"Mommy, do I get to go to the Camporee?"

"LUCY! Stop at the top of the hill!" I shrieked, barely pausing to listen to Ellie's question.  "What?"

It was dusk on a Friday afternoon in mid-January, the end of another long week. Like we do every other Friday, Leo, Harry, Lucy and I load into the van to drive the three minutes to Ellie's school to pick her up from her Girl Scout meeting which concludes just before dinner time.

Lucy barely paused at the top of said hill, then took off through the dark parking lot (Awesome!), meanwhile Harry was at the bottom of the hill, kicking at some grass and taking his own sweet time to join the rest of his siblings at the car. In other words, just a typical moment in my life.

I actually knew about the "Camporee." It was a weekend trip planned for the following weekend, two nights at a YMCA camp in northwestern New Jersey. All the Girl Scouts in Ellie's Girl Scout troupe were invited but each girl needed a parent chaperone. Ellie had asked about it for two years and I somehow put it off. Even though I feel strongly about doing things one-on-one with our kids whenever possible, a whole weekend away with one seemed complicated.

"I don't know, we'll see," I mumbled, between pleads with Harry to get into the car and Lucy to scoot into her carseat so I could buckle her in. Inwardly I was cursing the Girl Scouts for publicizing the trip, wishing it could be something that only parents knew about so that if we couldn't take our girls, they couldn't be disappointed. But silly me, third grade girls talk to each other. They're not little kids anymore.

Later when I brought it up with Erin to see what she thought (secretly hoping she'd poo poo it and Id be off the hook), she practically (lovingly) pushed me out the door. "GO," she implored me. "It will be good for you and it will be great for Ellie."

So go, we did.


Fairview Lake, Newton, New Jersey


Ellie was just SLIGHTLY excited about her top bunk (and her new purple sleeping bag).

We left home shortly after sunset and arrived in time for hot chocolate, cookies and swap making in the dining hall. Soon after we retired to our cabins (bunkbeds!) that we shared with two other moms and their daughters. I had one of the worst night's sleep of my life (and believe me, there's a lot of competition for that), between the street lamp that shined in my eyes all night and the plywood-plush mattress. But no matter-I was heartened by the fact that four year olds would not be rousing me before sunrise in the morning and I had no responsibilities for the next day, other than chaperoning Ellie to various Girl Scout activities. WIN.


Candle making was favorite (yes, the let the moms do it too). It was dip, dip, dip, dip. Super relaxing. Super zen. Totally what I needed.

They kept the girls perfectly busy. I say "perfectly" in that there was plenty of down time but also great activities for them. They spent a morning learning about letter boxing.


They survived the Frozen Swamp Tour.


Ellie and the biggest marshmallow of her life. True love.

Perhaps MY favorite part of the weekend was the dining hall. Can I tell you how sweet it was to walk into a room where all the food had been prepared by others and would be cleaned up by others? I didn't realize how much brain space is taken up by meals for the kids until I had a weekend off from cooking and cleaning up. If I'm not making meals or cleaning up after them I'm thinking about what I'm going to make and when I'm going to make it. Always watching the clock. And believe me, I am no gourmet--I'm not even talking about elaborate cooking here folks. I'm talking pasta. Baked chicken. Some cut up fruit. It was SO nice to sit back and let someone else take the reins for the weekend.

Saturday afternoon the girls rehearsed a little performance for the evening's talent show and the moms congregated in a room with couches and coffee and we just relaxed and talked. Bliss. I seriously could have just stared at a wall and been perfectly content. The adult conversation was just an added bonus.


That evening after dinner (followed by brownies, a sundae bar AND s'mores--see above for Biggest Marshmallow--the girls performed their song (there were Girl Scout troupes in attendance from all over the state). Yup, a lodge full of giggling, shrieking elementary and middle school girls. It was as loud (and adorable) as it looks.

In the morning, following brunch and prior to departure, the girls had a list of activities to choose from.


"What was your favorite part of Camporee?" One of the counselors asked Ellie on Saturday night. "It hasn't happened yet," Ellie answered quietly. She had her heart set on archery.


Rock climbing was also highly anticipated.

Before it was time to pack up the car, Ellie and I took some time to explore the camp one more time, just the two of us. I made a conscious effort to say "YES!" as much as I could all weekend. "Can I have another brownie? Can we go check out the creek? Can we make one more candle?" Yes! Sure! Why not?!  With four kids and four personalities and four different sets of needs it can be SO hard to please everyone all the time--not hard actually, impossible. I find myself constantly feeling like I'm not only being pulled in many directions and endlessly disappointing someone. I've come to accept this, but it sure is nice to be able to just say YES to a request without thinking about how it's going to affect another kid or if I'll need to get four of something and well, you get the picture. (Of course, saying yes ALL the time wouldn't be a good way to be but it's just fine for one weekend if you ask me).






Pretty excited about the name of the camp gift shop.



Finding hearts in the natural environment is a family favorite. The Camporee did not disappoint.




Camporee selfie!!


If you're wondering how the others fared in our absence, well they were more than fine (see above for a pic that Erin texted me over the weekend). I came home to seven loads of clean laundry (thanks Sweetie!) and fresh baked cookies. I think it's safe to say I could got the easier end of the stick with the One Kid Weekend.



Next year I will not change the subject when Ellie asks me about the Camporee. I'll mark it on the calendar, and we'll be there. I'm looking forward to it already.

31 for 21, Day 24: The News is Good

Welp. Clearly I've failed at ye olde "31 for 21" this year. It was a nice thought, but it was not to be. There was a time when I could blog every day and this is just NOT that time.

But I've enjoyed the abundance of Down syndrome articles friends have shared in the last few weeks (courtesy of Down syndrome Awareness Month). There's so much good information now. So much positivity and hope. So much that wasn't there on that insufferably hot, humid day more than eleven years ago in the delivery room, when a doctor I'd never met gruffly muttered, "Well, we think he has Down syndrome."

This week, some of that good information came in the form of a podcast. I've started listening to them again, after an unintentional hiatus. I used to enjoy them when I was commuting (a hot coffee, a seat by a steamy window, a voice whispering eloquent writing or dialogue into your ear? THE BEST). Now my commute is two minutes long, the time it takes for me to drive home from dropping Ellie at school, walk to the kitchen table and pull out my laptop. So I've had to get a little more creative about finding the time to listen.

But check this one out. Writer and comedian Bethany Van Delft says, of her realization about her early days of having a baby with Down syndrome:

"Once I stopped fearing...I realized all moms cry a lot. All moms doubt their ability to raise this child. All moms worry about the future. I used to wish I could go back in time and get that test after all, but now I wish I could could go back in time to allow myself to feel the joy that a new mother feels, because that's what I was."


I've started listening to podcasts while running (the only time in my life when things are "quiet"). I turn the volume WAY up so I can't hear my pathetic gasps for air. Recommend!

Then came this story, about a new program in which young people with Down syndrome write "Congratulation" letters to new parents of babies with Down syndrome. Now, "Congratulations!" is not a word I remember hearing much (ever?) at the hospital when Leo was born. Luckily, I think the world has changed a bit since then, but this campaign is still amazing and much-needed. An excerpt from my favorite letter:

"PS. This baby is going to be the best thing that ever happens to you."


Leo, 18 months. 

Yes.

31 for 21: Day 11, FAIL, Try Again

Apple picking and pumpkin patching with the crew yesterday. It was a spectacular, perfect fall day and every year this particular outing gets a little easier and a little more, dare I say, fun?

OY. I am not doing well at this 31 for 21 this year. I had such high hopes for myself.

Let's go for some bullets, shall we?


-Leo is still difficult to understand speech-wise. I won't lie when I say I would have thought by now, at age 11, things would be clearer. I'm guessing this where we are for him and that breaks my heart a little because he has SO much to say. I suppose I should be grateful for that at least, right? But he's likely always going to be tricky (for strangers and people who don't know him well--most of the time his family/friends/teachers do OK but even we are still perplexed and yes, frustrated). However. I love that his speech is getting more advanced and interesting and mature. This morning for example, he busts out with "Speaking of apple bread..." (We were discussing what we could make with all the apples we picked.) I mean, "speaking of...?" Just love it.

-This week was a doozy for Ellie. It feels like the bloom is falling off the rose on the new school year: Apparently third grade is a "big deal" (this is news to me as this is my first time going through third grade for a 100 percent gen ed kid). Multiplication, long division, more and more standardized testing. The list goes on and on. There has been a lot of talk of feeling "pressurized" (Ellie's words) and worry about the speed at which math is going. I checked in with her teacher and she's doing fine, so this is likely self-imposed stress (she's hard on herself and a bit of a perfectionist. Hmm. No CLUE where she gets that, cough cough). Every night after Ellie finishes her homework (math worksheets and language arts and spelling) she does her computer homework for 30 minutes. One evening this week I waxed nostalgic about how after homework Ellie used to draw. "I don't have time for that anymore," she announced, matter-of-factly. Geez, kid. Just stab me in the heart, why don't you?

-I met a woman yesterday at Leo's soccer yesterday who has a 20-year old daughter with Down syndrome (she's in the same special needs soccer program as Leo). It's bizarre to think about the fact that I actually don't know anyone with an adult child with Down syndrome. How did that happen?

As we chatted, we realized our children shared a few teachers, so that was a fun little trip down memory lane. There are a few younger children with Down syndrome in the soccer program too and as we watched their antics we shared a few funny stories of our trials with Impossible Young Children with Down ("When she was little, I never sat down!" this mom recalled). Yup, sounds familiar. I tried to take off my journalist hat and just act like a normal, friendly mom (in these situations where I am starved for information I tend to ask a lot of questions) but I was dying to know: What's high school like for her? Does she have friends? (Answer: Yes, tons. Or at least, everyone seems to know her. Huh. That sounds familiar. How much independence does she have? Does she go home after school by herself? The answer to the last one was no, she still has someone with her at home unless it's just for a few minutes. That one was a little tough for me to swallow.

Her daughter is in her last year of high school and her mom is now looking at programs for next year. In her words: "You're pretty much on your own." The future. I can't can't even go there. But I know the drill. I opened up Facebook this morning and there was one of those sob inducing "Memory" pictures from five years ago: Six year old Leo and three year old Ellie at the SAME apple farm we went to yesterday. Um. EXCUSE me? Five years?

Apple picking, October 2010.

And where were the twins? Oh yeah, not BORN yet (I was actually pregnant the day this picture was taken but didn't know it). And the future that mom spoke about yesterday? It will be here before we know it. But for now I'll go back to my cozy spot with my head resting firmly in the sand.

Falling For Fall

We all forgot how fun it is to play in the leaves.

Oh man. I love this weather. Every year I forget how glorious fall is. Chrystal clear blue skies, the crispy leaves tumbling down. Yesterday we got home early from Ellie's soccer game and headed to the backyard. Well, the boys did. Leaves and trucks. Really, what else do you need?

And yes, Harry wore his pajamas all day yesterday. Don't you do the same thing on Sundays?