By Any Other Name

I took the whole gang to Costco yesterday (and yes, I'm still standing, why do you ask?). In any event, only at Costco do people ask, "Are they all yours?" Do you know anyone who brings EXTRA children to the store? On purpose?

The proverbial terrible picture, but photo evidence nonetheless. What on Earth are they all looking at? Who knows. Certainly not me!

The experience was far more positive than I anticipated (except for one minor detail, more on that later). But when we came home it was the usual perfect storm of misery: Exhausted babies in need of a nap (but first! New diapers for all!). Of course Ellie needed a snack and was pulling on my guilt strings with a request to play Gingham Girls paper dolls ("Will you do it WITH me Mommy?"). Meanwhile, there was Leo, sitting at the kitchen table trying, unsuccessfully, to get a movie to play in the laptop, wailing for help and pounding on the table in frustration.

Did I mention I still had not unpacked the groceries from the car? And don't forget--we'd gone to Costco, so everything was Giant and Heavy and, well, Costco-sized.

Mommy?

Mommy!

Mommy!?

Mommy?!

I took a deep breath.

Within a few frenzied minutes, the babies were blessedly down for naps (at least, in theory, though by the sound of the "chatter" on the monitor not a lot of napping was going down). So there were two less people who needed something for the moment.

I stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing cups, feeling like I literally had not stopped all day. Even the drive to the store had been a constant barrage of questions (harmless and entertaining, but nevertheless, things were demanded. Of me).

Can we just take a break from saying Mommy? For a few minutes? I asked.

And without missing a beat, Ellie replied: "How about we call you Charlie?"

Of course, I laughed. How could I not?

"Ellie, THAT was a good one," I said.

I think that's when Grandma Jerry called to check in and Ellie answered the phone. She told Grandma that we'd just returned from Costco. "It was fine," Ellie explained. "Except when Mommy squished Harry's fingers."  

Yes it's true. Just when I was about to get very confident about my parenting abilities, I mis-steered our enormous, overstuffed (with items and children) and definitely lopsided cart a leetle too close to the wall, pinching poor Harry's left pinky and ring finger between a doorway and the cart. OUCHIE.

Instant tears and hysteria from the little boy who is normally Mr. Tough Guy. When Harry wails? You just know it hurts.

Luckily, he recovered relatively quickly. As it turns out? Costco vanilla frozen yogurt aids in the healing of pinched fingers. Just so you know.

Planets, Bones, Molars, Costco and the Golden Globe Goes To: The Weekend

I've long been an awards show junky. In my youth, I was known to turn the red carpet show on at 3 p.m. (when you live on the west coast, the Oscar coverage starts early). Pre-celebratory cocktails and hors d'oeuvres would soon follow, though my dress was always casual.

Last night the Golden Globe Awards were on. As you can imagine, my pre-awards show regimen
these days differs just a tad from days gone by. After dinner was made and cleaned up, after lunches for the next day were packed, after four small bodies were bathed and tucked into bed (four bathed on the same night! That feat--not that I did it alone--high five, Erin!) will make me feel accomplished for at least 36 hours)--we collapsed onto living room couches. Leftover Chinese food for me and a cobbled together hamburger for Erin, followed by Diet Pepsi and Bailey's (no, not together). I know, you're jealous. It's OK.

I thought Tina Fey and Amy Poehler were wonderful. My only complaint is there wasn't enough of them. It seemed like last year its was the Ricky Gervais show (snore) whereas this year, Tina and Amy were hardly seen.

I'm not going to talk about the fact that I have set a new record in that I have literally seen none of the movies nominated for best picture.

As we always do, Erin and I had loads of fun making fun of everyone and trash talking fashion. And it's always fun to see celebrities get tipsy and make speeches.

It was around 9:30 that I heard rustling coming from Leo's room. I thought maybe he'd fallen out of bed (I wasn't alarmed since his mattress happens to be three inches from the floor). Minutes later, there was the little man himself.

"Good morning, Mommy," he greeted me. At 9:37 p.m.

I told him it wasn't morning but night time. That it was late and he had to go back to bed. But Leo was in a funny sort of half-awake dream state. He returned to his room for a minute and came back with a pillow and blanket. He made himself a little bed of sorts on the chair across from Erin and me. And proceeded to watch the Golden Globes. I was too tired to stop him. I figured he would probably fall asleep in the chair and, confession: Leo is a lot of fun to stay up with. Like all kids, he's completely different when the spotlight is on him, when he's not competing with the attention of three other little people.

His favorite part was clapping after all the speeches. He was outraged that Erin and I were not doing so.

***


I spent a rare day alone with Harry and Lucy on Saturday. Erin took Leo and Ellie to the American Museum of Natural History and the long awaited planetarium (Leo has literally been talking about going daily, for months). More on that in a minute.

It was nice having time with just the babies. Even with two toddlers, the house felt really, really quiet without the big kids. I forget sometimes, how much they play with the twins, how much they occupy and amuse (and yes, aggravate) them. By afternoon I found myself watching the clock, checking to see how much longer until I had to go pick up the rest of the gang at the train station.

Lucy is in a really, really (did I mention really?) whiny phase right now. She follows me around and just wants me to hold her. She hangs on me. If I'm wearing yoga or pajama pants? Look out. Those suckers are pulled down, so desperate is that girl to get to me. I acquiesce when I can but of course, it's not always possible. I made the mistake of teaching her "uppy" (not sure what I was thinking) and that's her new favorite word. Ellie went through a similar thing around this age. This too shall pass and all of that. It's really not a big thing, it's just very noticeable.

Harry, meanwhile, is Mr. Chill. Except that the pathetic little guy is setting a new record for how long it takes to birth a molar. Poor dude can't fit his little fists far enough into his own mouth to soothe himself. He's woken up screaming inconsolably several times in the last week. Saturday he wouldn't even sit in his high chair and was only content to be spoon fed plain Greek yogurt while he sat in my lap. Rough life.

More on the planetarium: Apparently "Journey to the Stars" was a tad too exciting as they both lasted exactly two minutes before freaking out and demanding to leave due to presumed sensory overload. Ah, well.

Looking at models of planets is fun. And not scary at all.

And you can't beat a good dinosaur bone.

While Erin and the big kids had adventures in the city, the twins and I held court in the suburbs. Costco never disappoints. Six gallons of milk (yes, we are that family) and three vats of blueberries later (Leo is on a blueberry kick) we were on our way (with a few other things too).

And sometimes, just for fun I look at pictures like this

and this

and think:

A) How did I ever leave the house?
B) WOW. It's so much more awesome now.

Counting, I Love Yous, 'Late Night' Costco Runs and Chocolate

OK, I am finally coming up for some air.

A few things to share from the weekend:

-Yesterday morning as I was peering into the abyss otherwise known as the refrigerator I heard a small Ellie voice “one, doo, wee…” and turned to see her pointing at figures on a box of Clifford Crunch Cereal. The words probably weren’t that perfect (or that much like the actual numbers) but it was clear. She was definitely counting.

-We’ve been working on the sign for “I love you” with Leo for months.

He’s now doing it spontaneously. The other day he was calling to me with his usual, insistent urgency (Dee-Dee! Dee!). I was distracted and driving, and just a little frazzled. Finally I looked to see what all the fuss was about (and I'm sure called What is it Leo? in a not very sweet tone) and saw him in the rear view mirror, modeling a perfect “I love you” sign. Guilty mom moment for sure.

Speaking of the car, when they’re not aggravating the you-know-what out of each other in said car, Leo and Ellie are doing this.

Would you believe me if I said it was not initiated by anyone but them?

I leave you with this little bit of info. Friday night in a moment of desperation I took the kids to Costco (I think Ellie had four diapers left at home and she’d been “borrowing” from one of her classmates--sorry daycare classmate’s parents). Did I mention this was at night? After a long day of preschool and daycare and work? That means it’s about 6:30. The kids, well, Ellie mostly, begin their meteoric plummet to meltdownness right around that time, so taking them to the store, especially a full on sensory experience like Costco, well let’s just say it puts fear in my heart. Also I am very routine oriented (am I five?). Seriously, I like to do the same things the same way. During the week, a normal evening is pick-up, home, Dora or Diego for Leo while I make dinner and Ellie runs around whining "uppy." And then it's dinner, bath, bed. Deviation from that glorious path can make me a little sweaty and not in a good way.

But the kids did great. Leo now refuses to ride in the seat next to Ellie (our Costco cars have the double seats) but it was fine. This refusal to sit in the old "kid part" of the cart happened last time and at first I FREAKED, thinking he would do what he had done when he was younger: tried to crawl out, throw items from the cart. But no. He sat calmly and contentedly. Lesson learned there: give Leo a chance to surprise me, to realize he can mature. So back to Friday night, when he again sat sweetly in the cart, supervising where I put things. I swear he says “No, here!” (as in, don’t put the seltzer there, put it here) with the diction of the Queen of England.

We left Costco, a chill in the air, the sun beginning to set a bright, startling orangey-pink over the big box stores of Northern New Jersey. It was quite stunning, and I felt a little shiver of pride for how well we all did at big scary Costco After School.

Ellie started whining as we set off for home and I reached into the bag of Easter Crap from the daycare and presented her with an Easter basket. It looked to be a couple of plastic eggs and some stickers, nothing serious.

I guess I overlooked something.

By the way, in case there was any question, Ellie likes chocolate.