It Gets Better: Alternatively Titled, Don't Fall Asleep at the Drive-Thru

OK, OK, I didn't fall asleep. I placed my order (large hazelnut coffee with cream and bagel if you must know). Took my order. And forgot to leave.

The confused man at the pick-up window opened his sliding glass window and said "Ma'am? Can I help you with something?"

"Oh!" I smiled and reached down to put the car into drive. Right! Time to go. Hey, at least I didn't forget one of the babies somewhere. I seriously worry about that all the time. Check my rear view mirror constantly. Still there. Still there. It was also just last week that I drove down the street before I realized I'd left the stroller on the curb. Again, babies were safe in the car (pfew!).
***
I meet them everywhere: The moms of twins. At Target and the park and Shoprite and the community center where Ellie takes classes. "It gets better," they all say to me, gazing down at my two with nods of pity and recognition. "Mine are seven now," says the carefree, well-rested mom with the smooth, freshly blown out hair and the crip, tasteful, stain free outfit. "Mine are twenty now," laughs another. "They're hardly any trouble at all!"

At the same time, in nine short (or some might say long) months, we have come SO far. We are no longer the newbies. Last week while I was waiting for Ellie at ballet I saw a mom with the telltale Gigantic Ridiculous Stroller. She was cradling one baby (two weeks? Two months? Hard to tell with twin babies). But little. The other baby was sleeping. They were tiny, squishy and not an ounce of me envied this mom in any way. I looked over at Harry and Lucy, looking practically like teenagers, compared to the newborns, Harry kicking his rotund little legs, Lucy looking around wide-eyed at the four year old girls in their pink ballet dresses.

Maybe someday I'll look back at those early days fondly and with wistfulness, but for now? I just feel like we survived.
***
It's been a little rough around here the last few days. Harry ruined my Oscar party on Sunday night (OK it was just Erin and me but still, I am the nerd who wakes up the morning of the Oscars and says "Only fifteen hours 'till the Oscars!). No matter that I'd seen exactly one nominated movie (setting a personal record for the fewest Oscar nominated movies seen in one year--I'll give you two guesses why). Back to Harry. Poor dude went to bed warm and woke up hot--103.5. So proceeded a long night of cool bathes and Tylenol and very little sleep. The next day came the news of a double ear infection. It's so Harry. Our little drama guy. Poor little man can't just get an ear infection. He has to spike a giant, ugly fever that won't stay down.

He's better today, knock on wood, but still clearly pretty miserable.
***
I think one of the hardest thing about having babies is all that time spent at home. Don't get me wrong. I love home, but sometimes it gets to be a bit much. I know myself and my mental health is so much better when I get out. At least once a day. Bonus if the getting "out" means time spent outside. In the fresh air.

And yesterday, that's just what we did. It was another laughably beautiful and mild "winter" day here (sunny and 55 degrees in February, yes it's true). Oh sure it wasn't until 1:30 that we actually got out of the house, but out of the house we were.
Ellie, a true child of the suburbs thought it was just delightful that we were able to walk to run an errand (pick up dry cleaning).

No folks, we sure aren't in Brooklyn anymore, but still, a walk is a walk. And I am all for the avoidance of the lugging and schlepping of babies and children in and out of the car.


And no, those photos aren't staged. The babies hold hands every chance they get. And I melt every time.

Jolly, Procrastinating

This picture has nothing to do with this post except that I wanted to share the news that I've decided Harry is "Jolly." Look at him, all smiley and round. He got so excited about something he just flapped his little arms so hard that he simply tipped over. Yup, jolly. Also, he's in love with the dog. Sometimes I will look over at him and he's gazing at her and just giggling. He thinks she's hilariously entertaining (that's who he's grinning at as I caught him, mid-fall, except Ansel Adams here cut the dog out of the photo).

***

Speaking of jolly, we leave for Disney World in eleven days. Have I started packing? No. Have I even looked in the storage closet to refresh my memory as to what kind of luggage we have to choose from and considered what the options are now that four have become six?

That would be a negative.

Denial. Procrastination.

I loathe packing.

I realize this is a giant first world problem. I mean, whoa is me, I'm going to Disney World (though I'm sure there are some out there who are pitying me). But still. Packing for six (because let's be honest here). Scary stuff. I don't even know where to begin. By the way, if anyone has any You absolutely must bring this or do this Disney World related wisdom you'd like to bestow on me, I'm all ears.

I'm not sure what I'm more excited about: seeing the wonder on the face of my children as they lay eyes on the Place Where Dreams Come True (cough, cough) or getting a break from loading and unloading the dishwasher approximately twelve times a day (seriously I sometimes feel like that's what I spend the majority of my day doing).

On Arguments and Differences and Pink for the Boys

Sometimes it feels like I spend my days negotiating. Deals are made. But Why? The "Whys" are adorable when they relate to the magical world around us. "Why do some clouds look like flowers and some clouds look like clouds?" Not so cute when I ask for coats and shoes to go on and I'm met with why? For what feels like the ninetieth time. The arguing is especially bountiful and brutal with my darling, inquisitive, and yes, beloved four year old.

Everything, yes, everything is a discussion. And yes, discussion is the polite word for it.

But I can't argue with any of this. Especially the "I am happy" part.

No arguments here either, nope. This is not a bad way to start the day.

Aw, but babies don't argue. I mean, not really.

And in non-argumentative news, somebody loves to feed herself. She already seems to have great fine motor skills and can pick up minuscule pieces of dust on the carpet (not that that ever happens because our house is immaculate I assure you). Side note: I've decided Ruby the dog can stay (she's developed a mind numbingly annoying habit of barking to go out, then instantly wants to come back in, then when you go to actually let her in she looks up at you with her smokey brown eyes and truly, if a dog could mock you, she would). But she can stay, because dogs eat all the food the babies drop on the floor and therefore I don't have to sweep (often). But I hope Ruby has spare pair of elastic waist pants because she's about to gain the old "toddler fifteen" (I swear she gained fifteen pounds after Leo started on solids and she never lost it).

But back to the eating. Others are, hmm...how shall I put this? Less interested in self-feeding? Perhaps his eyelashes are getting in the way? Then again, why would you want to feed yourself if you had someone to do it for you?

I know this comes as an absolute news flash to all but these babies are so different! Imagine that. They have such unique personalities and strengths. Once you have a child with delays who does nothing when they are supposed to, you sort of forget about milestones I think. Having two babies side-by-side I think it's impossible not to compare a little and that's where it gets interesting. Harry is strong, sits up like a champ but can't seem to wrap his head around picking up food and putting it in his mouth (he puts all kind of other things in his mouth). Lucy on the other hand, is fine at sitting as long as you have a hand right at her side for when she just tips right over. She loves to be on her stomach and has been spotted rocking on her knees so I'm thinking crawling isn't too far away. No rush Lucy, no rush.

While Lucy "caws," chortles, babbles and screeches, Harry is much quieter, though he does his share of vocalizations. He still does his deep little Donald Duck voice, but he's a fan of a high pitch scream, akin to a four year old girl who just saw a spider.

Did I forget to mention Lucy is also suddenly terrified of strangers? Bursts into tears at the face of a friendly little old lady at the grocery store. Cannot wait for Lucy to start at daycare in a month. That is going to be awesome. Harry, meanwhile, seems to be affable guy. Also, he flirts. Bats those eyelashes at anyone and everyone.


Speaking of Harry, he had a pretty bad diaper rash this weekend. (Is anyone still reading this? Have I bored you to tears yet?) Anyway, for some reason you can't use diaper cream or powder on cloth diapers (Erin wants to know what will happen if you do? Do the Cloth Diaper Police come to your door and issue you a summons? Yes, I'm pretty sure they do).

So when a rash develops, you have to use disposables, which I always forget to buy to have on hand just in case. We happened to have an extra Disney Princess (only the best for Harry) Pull-Up, size 4-5T. And it fit him. So apparently the inability to self-feed? Not interfering with the weight gain.

Transcending

Us? Oh, you know. Just hanging outside. Having picnics. IN FEBRUARY.

So strange. Not complaining!

Harry seems a little concerned.

Inside, and outside, I'm relishing the growing frequency of what I like to call "moments of transcendence," in which for a brief, gorgeous moment, everyone is happy, dry, playing, doesn't need anything, doesn't want anything, just is.

Of course, it's brief and quickly goes to hell in a hand basket when Lucy has a blowout or Harry is suddenly hungry RIGHTNOW or Leo gets grouchy because he doesn't want to watch "that show" or Ellie is inconsolable because Leo won't answer her. But as I've said before, when it's good, it's very, very good.

This afternoon when we came home from Leo and Ellie's swim class, all six of us ended up in the play room in the basement. This is a rare occurrence since logistically it's just complicated. But now that the babies are getting sturdier and more interested in their surroundings I can see us spending more time down there (it looks like a daycare center exploded: way too many toys, bright colors, essentially baby heaven).

Back to today: There was this brief moment where I scanned the room and realized everyone was there (I swear I constantly hear a baby crying in the distance, even if both my babies are right in front of me and decidedly not crying). And happy. And didn't need something. With twins, in addition to feeling like I'm constantly expecting everything to fall apart into utter chaos, I feel like I've also been conditioned to be constantly thinking ahead. Anticipating. That's parenting in general but with two infants and two older ones, even more so. This is pretty much my constant interior monologue: Does Harry need to nurse? Do I need to get a bottle for Lucy if that's the case? Has Harry been in the saucer too long and is he about to cry and need to be held? Do I need to quickly get Lucy to a new spot so she doesn't grow annoyed that she's being ignored? And oh look! Leo wants a snack. And now Ellie does too. And of course the dog is barking to get let out. And then let back in.

You get the picture.

But these little windows of calm. The moments that help you transcend the constant need need need and plain old hard physical labor of keeping four little people going, well, those moments are sweet.

And very much appreciated.

Power of Two

This picture would be even more adorable if it didn't scream Cut My Nails! And you would be appalled at how often I bathe these babies. What can I say? Two babies=hard to clean.

The babies are discovering each other. Hands, feet, hair. Stealing each other's toys.

They seem endlessly amused by each other. Lucy screeches and chortles and "caws" (picture a baby dinosaur and that's Lucy) through most of her meals, you just cannot feed that girl fast enough. Harry, the strong, silent type peers over at her carrying on as if to say "what IS that racket over there?" They meet each other's eyes. They smile.

What would it be like to grow up with another baby? A mirror image (sort of, but not really--most days I think these two hardly look like siblings let alone twins) of you? For me there is the constant, nagging guilt of not being able to be everything to everyone. Almost every day it feels like a baby has to cry for longer than he or she should need to but at the same time, imagine the gift of a little roommate, a fast friend, someone who knows you from literally, your very earliest days. Someone who has your back or your hand, at all times.

When I was a little girl I went through a "twin period." I drew twin girls--ballet dancers and ice skaters and just plain old little girls, over and over and over. A sometimes lonely child who was an "only" for many years, the idea of a twin seemed the ideal. You would never be alone, never be lonely and there would always be someone to play with (funny, this is the same reminder I was given by several friends who grew up in large families when I was freaking out about adding twins to our already bustling household).

The twins I drew were always girls and always identical. I would draw circle, circle, eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes, nose, nose, mouth, mouth. And so on. Until everything came out even.

Little did I know what was in store.

Love, Leo and 100 Days

Yes, it was Valentine's Weekend 'round these parts.

I wrote the list of children in Leo's class (I imagine he could have done this himself if we'd had more time). When I presented him with the list of names he was alarmed.

"Leo! What about Leo?" he asked. He reached for the paper and immediately added his own name.

I reminded him that you don't give a valentine to yourself, that those were the names of the people he was giving valentines TO.

"Oh!" Leo laughed. He then erased his name and wrote his signature sign-off for Valentine's Day. The standard "from" just won't do, oh no. For him it's simple:

"Love, Leo."

We also completed Leo's "100 Days Project." The assignment was to compile a poster of 100 things to commemorate 100 days of school which, barring any snow days (cough, cough, mildest winter ever) is slated to fall on February 16.

Here's the illustration and title page. I was pretty impressed to learn that Leo knows about apostrophes. You'll notice how in many pictures where he's writing he's leaning over. His OT often has him lay on his stomach when he colors and writes as it helps him keep himself steady.

In other Leo news, his speech has taken an interesting turn. He seems to be in touch with the Yiddish roots that comprise fifty percent of his gene pool and is now pronouncing many of his hard "k" endings with a "huch" sound. It's hard to explain in writing here but the Yiddish speakers in the crowd know what I'm talking about. "Look" sounds like "luch." In all seriousness, I think his speech therapists are really drilling into him the importance of crisp word endings as he will often drop the endings of words ("yeah" instead of "yes"--though "yes" has recently become a Sean Connery kind of yes, more like "yesshhh." Hey, I'll take it.

Also, school seems to have fully indoctrinated him to the definition of Bullies. Now, if anyone is remotely mean to Leo he immediately accuses them of being a bully. Probably no shock to learn that Ellie is called a bully at least a dozen times a day.

Scenes From a Tuesday: the Confidence and the Pride

So, remember how I was all "Lucy's so whiny."

Look at these giant babies in their big kid stroller waiting at the pediatrician's office yesterday! (Foreshadowing)

Yeah, she has an ear infection. Yes, another one. Sigh. Thanks big kids, for dragging every germ and booger in from the outside world. On the positive side, these babies are building up immune systems of steel, I suppose? Hope?

I have to say, this whole third and fourth kid thing? I don't want to get over confident here but it just feels nice not to worry about every little thing the way I did with #1 and to some extent, #2. Lucy had a cold. It lasted a long time. It didn't seem to be getting any better, in fact it was getting worse. Add in the whining and I finally called the doctor. With #1 I would have likely been at the pediatrician's on the second or third day of said cold.

Even yesterday, when the doctor briefly mentioned tubes (not that they were needed but that we'd have that conversation after a few more ear infections--Lucy's had three) I did nothing but shrug. By the way I thought it a bit ridiculous for the doctor to even mention tubes but I think she did it because she knew I had experience with them (Leo) and I did ask how many ear infections Lucy has had (seems like a lot for someone her age but I remember Ellie seemed to have more than a few early on, too) so maybe she thought that's where my questioning was headed. Oh and don't worry, I'm not too overconfident: I check to make sure they're all still breathing before I go to bed at least once a week.

***

We went to Ellie's favorite indoor playground yesterday (at the mall which depresses the hell out of me but hey, we finished at the doctor and there were still several hours before Leo got home and it was either that or go home and be annoyed by how messy the house felt and fight the War of the TV with Ellie). Sometimes just getting out of the house is half the battle and there we were, four of us out in the world and ready to make the most of a Tuesday.

While Ellie played, the babes and I took in the scene. No popcorn at the refreshment stand so Lucy opted for a cell phone baggy (it came with the big kid stroller) and Harry, an empty breast milk container.

I marveled at how times have changed in just a few short months. Before Christmas we came to this same playground and the babies either slept bundled in their cars seats within the Giant Ridiculous Stroller (Lucy) or nursed (Harry). Now, we're (sort of, almost) getting to the point where where we can go places and I don't need to nurse someone.

After fussing ensued I took both babies out of the stroller (which was a bit of a balancing act and took some thought and imagination, believe me). We took our spot on the carpet and watched the big kids zoom around. Ellie met a little girl named Maya ("that's my mom's name!" I heard her squeal at top volume from across the playground). And then immediately the two girls were at my side with Ellie making the introductions. And just like that, they were off again, playing "Alien." Or something.

I was proud of Ellie yesterday. Well, first I was happy for her. Often when we come to the playground, two things happen:

A) there is no one there but us (the trouble with the suburbs and a not very bustling suburbs I might add, coupled with the fact that we are hearty stock who often go to the park when others would not).

or

B) Ellie is too friendly and frightens all the other children away. Seriously. Ellie, bless her little heart, she tries so hard. Sometimes too hard. She wants to give hugs to people she just met.

But she played it relatively cool yesterday and she and Maya hit it right off and before I knew it they were doing "crazy slides" and concocting that good old game of "Alien" (which seemed to be a variation of "Tag" that also included a lot of pulling on clothes and a bit of wrestling).

But there was a third little girl who was a little younger than Ellie and Maya. I could tell she sort of wanted to play with the girls but wasn't sure how to. She would walk up to them and seem to start to say something and then stop. Maya had no patience for her and kept playing. Ellie would stop and wait a beat and when this younger girl did nothing she shrugged and went on with Maya. Then Third Wheel's Mom did something that I thought was a leetle odd: she approached Ellie and Maya and asked them to play with her daughter. Hmm. OK, not my style but to each her own.

But that's when the pride comes in. Ellie really did try to include this little girl. She would pause before running off with Maya, motion to her, encourage her to climb the slide with them or get in the boat. Mean Girls terrify me and it's one of the things about having daughters (daughters plural? OMG daughters!) that scares me. And believe me, four year olds can be mean. I've seen it already and well, let's nip that in the bud right quick, shall we?

This and That, Weekend Edition

Story of my life: One sleeps. One does not. Side note: Check out Lucy's expression. Do you think she's in love with her big sister?

Are you kidding me with these eyelashes? (Yes, yes, I just discovered Instagram. I know.)

I just love Harry's expression in this picture. Not to mention his chins. My, how life has changed, ay?

So, what's new?

-I want to say that Leo's speech is improving. Apropos of nothing he's suddenly taken to calling everyone "Doctor," i.e., "Doctor Lucy, Doctor Harry." Who knows. This afternoon, on another balmy winter afternoon he ran around the backyard saying he was Kung Fu Panda (at first I thought he was calling himself some kind of banana).

I have no good explanation for this picture. Except that Ellie is big on posing these days and we've gotten a lot of mileage out of those Angelina ears. (Embellished by an exquisite Korean tiara from my sister.)

Again with the posing.

Aaaaand bedtime posing. Speaking of bedtime, the great Leo and Ellie Roommate Experiment has come to an end. The two of them, I don't know. They've been getting on each other's nerves recently. It's a recipe for disaster: Ellie is so starved for attention from someone her own age. Leo gets home from school and he's worked hard all day and just wants to BE. Play Legos, draw, watch Nick Jr. Meanwhile Ellie is crashing into him and asking him to wrestle and trying to sit on his lap. "Ellie! Go Away! Leave me alone!" Yes, thank you private Speech Therapist, those phrases are clear as a bell.

-In any event, it wasn't the bickering that pushed us over the edge (what siblings don't get on each other's nerves?). No, it was the sleep, which you can imagine, is a sacred, valued thing in our lives these days. Leo was waking up in the middle of the night and coming into our bed and that was waking Ellie up and before we knew it, well, there were too many children in the bed and none of us was sleeping very well (oh, except Leo, who is quite possibly the most active sleeper I've ever met--he managed to kick me in the armpit several times one night). He never woke up, of course.

So, wish us luck with the new arrangement. We're trying to see how many permutations of bedrooms we can try. Eventually we'll get it right. (For the record, Leo is now in the downstairs bedroom that was originally supposed to be the nursery).

And finally, guess who can hold her own bottle? It's awesome. Now I can feed two babies and play Words With Friends. Win!

Eight Months: Here For Almost as Long as We Waited For Them

Eight days old

As each month passes, and I go to document the babies' development, I could easily just lead with "where does the time go?" because, eight months? Eight months old?

Eight months old

No, really.

Where does the time go?

They've been here with us now for almost as long as we waited for them.

I've said it before but now I really mean it. They're becoming little people. With personalities.

Harry is sitting up independently (he loves it).

While Lucy's been babbling seemingly since she was a few weeks old (seriously, she's almost as chatty as Ellie--I wonder where she gets it -HA HA-she has Miss Nonstop Chatterbox as a big sister). But in the last few days, Harry has found his voice. It's gravelly a deep and sounds a little like Donald Duck.

He's such a dude, I swear. Look at those thighs. I'm in love with them. And his feet? So chubby, I refer to them as fat with toes. This morning, when I had to ask him to suck it in so I could snap his diaper he gained a new nickname. "Big & Tall."

Lucy is teething. Still. Boy those little ivories take their time. It seems like she's been thisclose to getting them for a few months, but the misery seems to be coming to a head, because she is suddenly Whiney McWhiney Pants A LOT of the time. She will chew anything and everything that comes her way (she's gnawing on my knee right now, no joke). I love that little peanut girl but sometimes it feel like nails on a chalk board and the only thing that soothes her is being held. Which is wonderful and completely understandable and I try to do it whenever I can but there's that whole Other Baby thing to contend with. Speaking of Lucy, she's still not sitting by herself but is very content on her tummy. If you set her down on the floor she does move from point A to point B, albeit very gradually. And I'm still not sure how she does it. She's a big fan of a move I like to call the Sneaky Pivot.

She's still a social butterfly who craves people, faces, laughter and conversation but she's also the shyer one who is not a great fan of new people and for now has more separation anxiety. She gets bored easily and loves when you play with her. Harry is content to play by himself for longer periods but both babies love when Leo or Ellie or better yet, both of their big siblings pay attention to them.

Now that the babies are sturdier and completely interactive (that sounds like the description for action figures, but you know what I mean) Leo and Ellie are constantly asking me to "put them on the blanket." It's fun, yes, but requires a bit of supervision, as you can imagine.

I think it's safe to say Leo and Ellie have found Harry's ticklish spot.

I never thought I'd say this about the one previously known as Fussy McCranky Pants (or something to that effect) but Harry has become, dare I say it? Mellow. Except in the middle of the night when he cries like someone stole his puppy.
(We did try a new sleep system last night for the Hair-Man, more on that to come.)

Life is definitely easier than it was in those early days. I feel the same way I have for a while: some days, I can totally do it. Other times, what we're expected to do seems completely and utterly unreasonable. I am still stunned by how little I can accomplish in a day when I'm home with just the twins. The days fly by. I feel like I literally look up and it's 4 p.m. and time to meet Leo's bus. And yet I look around and wonder what the hell I did (I know, I know, kept babies alive, but still! What did I do?) Throw in the big kids and whooee, by 5 p.m. I am cooked. There is always something to do and the work is never, ever done. And I assure you, I have lowered my standards. In a way, I feel like I am just starting to get the hang of being home, just as I'm on the cusp on going back to work. I've learned not to do laundry every day (otherwise I feel like all I do is laundry), try to get out at least once a day on the days Ellie doesn't have school or a class. I've figured out how to make an actual dinner that can involve chopping things up instead of just defrosting. It doesn't happen every night and my intentions are usually loftier than the end result but hey, a girl can try.


Harry: the strong, silent type. Lucy: that girl cracks herself up.

Eight months in and I still feel like my life was hit by a truck. An awesome truck, an amazing truck, a We Didn't Know You Were Missing Until We Got You Truck, but yes. A large, powerful, chaos creating truck.

Make that trucks. Plural.