Never Alone and Who's Going to the Sing-A-Long?

I had a rare day at home with "just" the twins this week.


Hey Harry. Whatcha doin? Yougonnaeatthis?


FORTHELOVEOFALLTHATISGOODWOMAN,LEAVEMEALONE.

I mean, I can only imagine that's what Harry might be saying.

Lucy woke up from her nap before Harry (which is why he's eating his lunch in these pictures and she's already finished), so we had a rare thirty minutes just to ourselves.

Lucy spent most of that time walking around the house asking "Where's Harry?" and "Is it time to go pick up Ellie?"

She asked about Ellie all day long actually.

"Where's Ellie? I want Ellie."

These two. Oh my.


"Mommy! Look at us!" they called to me, from the living room. (Ellie took her shirt off. So Lucy did. Because, of course.)

At this moment, in these days, Ellie can do no wrong in Lucy's eyes.

"Where's Ellie? What's Ellie doing? I want to go see Ellie."

I look at them playing Barbie Fairies or dress up, I watch as Ellie gives Lucy "pony rides" around the kitchen table, knocking into the back of my legs as I slice carrots for dinner. Two little girls. In my house. And I still can't quite believe it, that I get to witness this all as it unfolds.

Ellie is phenomenally, unshakably patient with the twins but it's Lucy who tries her the most (wrinkling Ellie's drawings just as she completes them, overturning her perfectly placed tea set. And yet. Ellie is unflappably calm with both of them. They destroy, she shrugs and laughs: "Oh Lucy!"

These days Ellie is a key player in bedtime for the twins. They wait for her to "tuck them in."
"Ellie! Come give me a kiss," Lucy calls, as Ellie climbs the stairs.

Some of Ellie's techniques are more effective than others: "If you don't lie down I'm telling Mama, Grandma and everyone I know!"

I think that I spent my whole early childhood pining for a sister, wondering what that relationship would be like, that constant companion, the never ending play date (not that that word existed in 1978). Of course I completely idealized it--there was never any grief about sharing or resentment about who got more attention. It was just, fun. All fun, all the time. Because I knew with a sister I would never be lonely.

Sisters or brothers, you can certainly say that much about our house. No one is EVER Lonely.

***

We were brave and left the house with all four kids last weekend. We even went really nuts and took them to a restaurant, of all places! I know!

The food seemed to take forever.

So we passed the time making silly hats. Butter packages and mini creamers, of course.



Classy. That's us.



Luckily the hot chocolate (and my coffee) hit the table right away. Lucy has a newfound love for hot chocolate (and by hot chocolate I mean barely warmed chocolate milk topped with whipped cream).



I think it's fair to say she approves.



I like to call this look "Cocoa Drunk."

***

It's finally here!



I'd like to take the big kids this weekend. I mean, they can't stop talking about it. They won't leave me alone, it's just "When the Sing-A-Long Frozen, Mom?" All. The. Time. In reality they have no idea it's happening and it's really me that wants to sing all the songs from "Frozen" in a darkened theater, resting only to put away a large tub of popcorn with extra butter.

OK so I might be more excited than they are.


We showed Harry and Lucy some clips from "Frozen" last weekend and Lucy was completely riveted. Part of me thinks she might actually enjoy the sing-a-long version but another part of me is also afraid that she of the Many Opinions will not appreciate all the singing and will, in true Lucy "I'm The Boss Style" order the audience to "STOP SINGING!"

I've long been plotting to get the kids the "Frozen" plush dolls (damn you Disney store for being so close to my office and directly in my path every single day). Leo and Ellie were easy: they are both smitten with Elsa (did I tell you that Leo has decided he wants to be her when he grows up?). Lucy likes Anna. When I asked Harry who he liked, Anna or Elsa?


He answered, "Olaf."

I swear that Olaf is totally for Harry. Completely.

When Life Gives You Fourteen Degrees, You Give it Felt Valentines in January

It continues to be ridiculously cold (I know, January) and it continues to be my least favorite time of year (Christmas is still over!). And so to that I say: Valentine's Crafts.



Ellie and I started working on this little ditty on Saturday afternoon while the twins napped. And here's some funny info which speaks volumes: I bought the materials for this "garland"…LAST YEAR. Along with a glue gun. Which I finally took out of its package this weekend. Hey, better late than never, right? Yes, I've long dreamed (for a whole year, apparently) of creating a little Valentine's Day garland (you can make garlands for pretty much any holiday-I'm already planning my Halloween version).



We worked furiously while they slept, in an attempt to get as much finished in the absence of the twin-nadoes precious darlings. I knew as soon as they woke it would be Game Over. We accomplished a lot, I'd say about 3/4 of the garland was complete before Lucy woke up.

When she came downstairs she was wide eyed at the craftapalooza. She announced, "I want to paint!"

Well, OK then.


Lucy, you're such a great artist, I told told her. "No I'm not!" she protested. "I'm Lucy!"

There was a time when I would have felt itchy to have so many projects going at once (shortly after Lucy started painting, she asked for lunch, so at one point I was simultaneously making a cheese sandwich, slicing berries and glue gunning burlap cord and felt hearts). The kitchen: Oh it was quite a sight. I guess I'm just much more accustomed to chaos than I used to be (Gee! I wonder why!). It still makes feel a little nuts, but I know in the back of my mind that everything is washable and everything has a place (eventually) and everything will get cleaned up.


Harry woke up a little later and joined our "salon."


He may have been a bit more interested in the paint water than the actual painting (don't worry, he took a drink when it was clean, before he'd dipped his brush).

Ellie alternated between decorating felt hearts for the garland and painting with watercolors. At one point I took a break from felt heart glue gunning and worked on some water colors too. This is so much harder than it looks, I mentioned to Ellie, who was working quietly beside me (It's been a while since I've used water colors).


"Not for me," Ellie replied. "I'm a natural."

By the way, about that working furiously? A funny thing happened. We were able to finish the garland after the twins woke up. This might sound silly, but I have to say that completing this did a lot for my confidence. I love being creative. I miss doing stuff like this. Yes, things have been pretty hectic for the last few years (Hi Harry and Lucy!). Dare I say we are seeing a glimmer of the future? A future in which creative projects can be completed at a time that doesn't involve nap time? A future in which it's not just the big kids participating, but the little ones too? I mean, don't get me wrong. There was still a toddler pulling on my leg the whole time I finished that last quarter of the garland and I'm sure at least two people were shouting MOMMY! and asking for a snack. But we finished the garland! We finished it! And I swear I didn't ignore the children. Too much.



Perhaps best viewed in darkened room, while squinting. But we had fun.




Felt, buttons, rick rack, ribbon, pom poms and sequins.

More. Is more.

The Road to Wellness, Edging Toward "Big Kids," Hearing Harry, Still Can't Shut Up About "Frozen" and Transcending It All

I've made a sort of unwritten rule not to talk about sickness here because really, no one wants to hear about your cold, right? Sufficed it to say that fifty percent of our house was felled by a nasty virus this week, to the point that Ellie sounds like she's got quite the serious two-pack-of-Marlboros-a-day-habit and I took my first sick day from work in three years. Poor Ellie has missed school all week and been (understandably) miserable and cranky and let's just say I think I may have glimpsed a view of tween/teenhood and I am afraid. Very afraid.


Looking not so tween/teen and also, pre-sickness. My Little Yentas. It might just be time to introduce Ellie to "Fiddler on the Roof."

So, yes. Hard week. Mercifully, I'm just starting to feel like myself again. It's an amazing thing really, how the body (blessedly, usually, ideally) fights off illness. Obvious but true statement of the day: As terrible as it is to not feel good, it makes getting better that much more sweet. The thrill of realizing that filling the dishwasher again is not a crushing blow but something you can actually accomplish--that is a welcome relief.

But I am living in FEAR that the babies twins are going to get sick. Please. No.

And of course, with sick kids ALWAYS come the work deadlines. Yesterday I had to stay late and called home to check on Ellie. When asked if I could bring anything (I was thinking something along the lines of Popsicles), her response was "I just want Yooooooou! I want you to come hooooooome."

Insert knife, into heart.

You will happy to learn that all was forgiven when I arrived home (after dinner but well before bed time) with vanilla ice cream. Ellie did make one request: "Is it OK if I sleep in your bed? It makes me feel more secure." Then, crossing her arms she said, "I'm sorry if I don't know what secure means." 


She felt better in the morning. Well enough, even, to make them a little bed in the living room.


Lucy was insistent that Harry take a Goldfish. No was not an option.

These two. Two and a half years old. Technically closer to three years old than two. Preschool is on the horizon. I continue to call them babies but see glimmers of kids, kids who understand and can be reasoned with, who show empathy and real problem-solving skills, on a daily basis.

Don't worry. They also still make me smack my forehead and want to tear my hear out on a daily basis.

Harry, who hasn't been much of a talker until pretty recently is suddenly busting out with new words and sentences every day. It's such a sweet and welcome joy to have him bound over to me, barreling his hard little skull into my belly and exclaim, "Buzz! I found Buzz [Lightyear-pictured above]." Admittedly I could do with out the barreling skull, but hey, he means well. He is such a little snuggler.

I'm still not quite accustomed to his little voice. I'll hear chattering away in the car or in the corner while he snaps Duplos together ("I did it!), a sentence or two, and I feel momentarily disoriented--Leo, Ellie, Lucy: they talk constantly-our house is L-O-U-D. I can recognize everyone's voice in a heartbeat (OF COURSE) but who is that one? Why, it's Harry!





File this one under, they're not really babies anymore: The other morning Lucy woke up crying around 4 a.m. It was (of course) dark as night outside (anything before 5 a.m. is night in my book). That's when I whispered to Lucy that it was still nighttime and she needed to go back to bed. And you know what? She Did. I couldn't believe it either. See what I mean? Glimmers of reason. And I do mean glimmers.


Yes, yes. We eat a lot of Goldfish in our house. Probably more than we should.


Four way ball (they roll it to each other). It lasts for all of 2.3 minutes but those are beautiful, gleeful minutes.

In the midst of the Daily Din I think you all know that I do my best to recognize those "transcendent moments," you know the ones, they make you, just for a brief few minutes even, rise above the chaos and havoc and incredible noise and clutter and overwhelmingness of it all. We had one this morning and you might not be surprised to learn that it had to do with "Frozen", a movie which has provided me with a seemingly unending amount of pleasure. Not to get too fruit ball on you all but so many parents I know have spoken of how they love it as much as their kids and they've loved loving the movie along with their children, all of which sounds pretty transcendental to me: A shared joy. A break from the monotony.

Back to this morning. Everyone was finishing up breakfast and I remembered that I'd just read that "Frozen" had a DVD release date (there's a part of me that doesn't want to own it because I know that once we can watch it any time it will no longer feel special). But the big deal for us is that when it's on DVD the babies twins will be able to see it-they might be edging toward kid-dom but I was not quite ready to brave a feature length film with them, so they have-gasp-yet to see "Frozen." And of course Erin, who has not yet had the pleasure (you know you want to see it Sweetie) will benefit from the March release.

The kids were mildly excited at the DVD news but I don't think we will really care until they can hold it in their hot little hands. Ellie then suggested we show the babies the clip she and I had watched the night before (laying in bed beside a coughing and despondent Ellie I thought "watching" one of her favorite songs would be a little treat and a break from our routine of listening to Pandora's "Soundscapes" station on my iPhone).

The next thing I knew, I had the laptop out, a cup of coffee next to me, Ellie snuggling on my lap, Leo across from me, and two babies the twins, sitting beside me in their high chairs, in complete rapture. It was the "Frozen" they'd been hearing so much about (quite literally, in the car, every time we go ANYWHERE it's Frozen soundtrack central).

Bliss. Peace. Everyone happy.

No picture.You'll just have to trust me on this one.

The Village: It Never Gets Old

Leo, on a recent stint as a pastry chef. The "Village" helped him do that too.

Something wonderful happened over winter break. While dashing out for a quick (solo!) errand that included a stop for coffee, I ran into Leo's teacher from last year. She wanted to know how he was doing.

The funny thing was, I'd been thinking about this teacher (whom we all loved). When we were going back and forth about Leo's placement late last year, I'd even thought about getting in touch with her, but wasn't sure if that was "kosher." Mainly, I'd wanted to ask her why he could do so well in one class (hers, third grade) and struggle so much in another, just a year later (fourth grade).

I was going to call you, I told her. But I didn't. I didn't know if it would be weird.

That's when she playfully chided me for not getting in touch, kissed me on the cheek, hugged me, and told me that next time, I should call her. Call her ANY time. Because she was a "Forever Friend." 

I'd be lying if I said I didn't have tears in my eyes as I walked back to my car with my hazelnut coffee.

The Village. The people we've met over the years who have helped us, helped Leo. From his very first speech therapist, who brushed his little toothless, eight week old gums in our Park Slope, Brooklyn apartment, to our infinitely patient family dentist, who worked with Leo for three years, to get him to sit for an actual cleaning at the age of seven, who thought nothing of practically doing a headstand in order to pull a little rotten tooth. (This is the same dentist, you'll recall, who, when I saw him weeks later at a Halloween parade, called to me from across the street, "How's Leo?!")

My Rolodex of support is bulging, from doctors and specialists who know just how to talk to and treat Leo, to friends who "get it," to teachers who want me to call them a Forever Friend. It makes my heart burst with joy and gratefulness.

What a contrast, I sometimes think, from the way I felt when Leo was first born, to the way I feel now.

It struck me too, as I took one last look at the wall of holiday cards before we took them down, last weekend. So many cards from people who I would never know, if not for an extra chromosome. Preschool friends, blog friends (some of whom I've never even met!). So. Much. Love. In our life, because of something that "went wrong."

And for the ten-thousandth time, I am reminded of what it feels like when you realize something you thought was a curse is really just a giant blessing.

The Epic "Break," Holidays and a New Year

Happy New Year!

The only thing you can do when you are horribly behind is just jump right in, right?

Right.

Winter break was wonderful. See also: Exhausting, dizzying, frustrating and hilarious. Everything that life at our house is, times infinity, full-time.

I look forward to the "break" all year long, even if it hardly lives up to its name.



The excitement on Christmas Eve? Oh. My. Goodness. I felt like I spent the last half of my day/whole evening scraping children off the ceiling. The anticipation was palpable. But eventually they all did fall asleep which meant…Erin and I got to put together toys and wrap seventy-nine presents! Weeeeee!

Photo below snapped at approximately 10:48 p.m. Christmas Eve. By the way, thanks Sweetie, for making me wrap presents a few nights in advance, rather than saving it ALL for Christmas Eve. That was a very, very good call (we wrapped 79 presents, rather than 219). Did I mention I've become a terrible procrastinator in my old age?


Note the tidiness and organization. Short-lived, trust.

Is there anything like that moment where you've finished wrapping everything and you're sitting there in your pjs, watching the final minutes of "It's a Wonderful Life" in front of the twinkling Christmas tree, thinking to yourself, yup, it really is just that. Wonderful.  Note: I'm usually drinking a glass of Bailey's at that moment, but I wasn't this year--it says a lot that I didn't even dip into it this year (sweet Erin even bought me the "big" bottle). Too. Tired. To. Drink. The hard stuff. I know.


Aaaand the next morning. It must have taken them about three minutes to open all 219 packages.


Absolute chaos. Like always.


New art supplies from Santa = momentary calm x 4. Did I mention no one asked to turn on the TV until about 3 p.m. on Christmas Day? I think we set a record.


These new stuffed animals were a favorite gift.




No Christmas breakfast would be complete without bouche de Noel (or, as we dubbed it this year, "Christmas Cake.") And yes, the twins instantaneously both learned to say "More Christmas Cake." Clear as little bells.

And if all that Christmas excitement wasn't enough, the Oregon grandparents came to visit, two days after the sugar/new toy high had begun to wear off.

We filled our days with watercolors, neighborhood walks, trips to the playgrounds (weather permitting), more new toys and books.








They also brought a little piece of Oregon with them, both in spirit and in the form of Ducky slippers from my sister and brother-in-law.


Artist Ellie paints a portrait of Artist Grandpa.


Harry and Grandma.


Playing ball in his room with Grandpa = Leo's Most Favorite Thing Ever.



Our now (so I've proclaimed-we've gone two years in a row so it's official!) annual New Year's Eve trip to our little local zoo was memorable as always. I love it for many reasons, one of which being that it's always freezing and we're always one of approximately two families there. It's like having our own private zoo and the twins can run crazy free to their hearts' content.


Looking for penguins. Right after I took this picture it started snowing, graceful, tiny flakes. Not going to lie. It was magical. 


Twins being penguins. Because, of course!




The walk home from the zoo. It was as cold as it looks!

The big kids were overjoyed to be able to take Grandma and Grandpa to the movies on a rainy Sunday morning, sharing their passion for "Frozen" (and I was not so secretly pretty excited about seeing it a second time, myself). We concluded our day in suburbia (a novelty for G&G but nothing but the "usual" for us), with a late lunch at Leo's beloved Five Guys, where Leo and Ellie taught Grandpa about the intricacies of the fairly amazing Five Guys soda machine.


It ended up being the "break" that kept on giving. The kids went back to school last Thursday, only to get a snow day on Friday.


Four (almost) snow angels. Or, someone's always gotta go rogue.

Some like the snow…




…a bit more than others (PS. I know, I know, he needs better boots and gloves. That will help. Lucy inherited all of Ellie's old snow gear and Harry pretty much got the shaft. Placing an order today, Hair-Man. Promise!).


After purging the house of ALL chocolate and bakery items and vowing to eat nothing but brown rice and steamed tofu for the rest of the year, I MAY have run out of things to do to keep the children busy and agreed to help Ellie make cupcakes for her teddy bear's birthday (See: The loooongest winter break ever).



And now, the holidays are over. It's a new year. I won't lie. The next few months have to be my least favorite. It's cold (5-degrees this morning, to be exact).  The tree is horizontal and naked on our curb looking forlorn and dejected. All that build-up and excitement and it's all just over. I mean, of course the holidays can't go on and on (then they wouldn't be special! I find myself trying to explain to the kids). But I'm secretly grateful that many of my neighbors seem to be holding on to the spirit a bit (see above). I always think of my mom though, when I see people with Christmas lights up, far into January and February. She used to grumble about giving people "tickets" for keeping their lights going past the season.

But the best thing about the holidays (if it's possible to pick a "best," which of course, it isn't, but I will anyway) is that they come every year. And every year you get the chance to have the Best Christmas/Holiday Season Ever. This year, the holidays were pretty darn fabulous, full of all the wonder and joy I could have hoped for (yes, in spite of Lucy's wails mid-menorah lighting). Nobody cried at Santa this year (a first!) and I even got to lay on the couch for a few minutes on Christmas Day.

It's a wonderful life. Yup, it really is.