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.

Newsflash: Not Everyone Likes You

Like most kids after school, Ellie isn't usually very forthcoming about her day. Our conversation is probably the same as it is for millions of parents and kids everywhere:

Me: How was your day, Buddy?

Ellie: Fine.

Me: Did you do anything interesting?

Ellie: No.

But this week Ellie burst from the crowd of jostling second grade elbows and backpacks with a lot to say.

"Something happened today, Mommy. Something not very nice."

I'll give you the abbreviated version, because the Ellie version was, shall we say, detailed.

According to Ellie, it was during recess and she and a group of children were playing basketball. Ellie said she noticed that some people were only cheering for one of the players.


That's Ellie on the right, saying: "That might hurt other kids' feelings."


Ellie announced that she didn't think it was very nice and one of the girls (who was doing the cheering) shouted, "You're not the coach, Ellie!" And that's when a bunch of people laughed.

Thus ensued a lot of she said, she said. I think Ellie was mostly embarrassed. And she felt misunderstood. She was just trying to help. She was looking out for the other kids who weren't getting cheered for. And the girl who accused her of being the coach is someone that is mentioned quite a bit when it comes to conflict. She and Ellie just seem to spar.

I found the drawings above when I was cleaning out Ellie's room (I try to keep out of her room as much as I can but she will not part with a single piece of paper and wants to save everything--her desk had become unusable--there were actually coloring pages from Thanksgiving on it, so it was time).

She did these drawings after I read to her and tucked her into bed one night this week. Clearly, she was really, really bothered by the exchange on the playground. That night she also wrote a letter to the girl, who she said she "really wanted to work thing out" with. In the letter, Ellie apologized for what she called a "misunderstanding." She stayed up late writing this note and she crept downstairs around 9:30 and asked me if I thought she should give it to the girl or read it to her. I told her I wasn't sure and what did she think? We concluded she would think about it, and decide later how to handle the note.

The next day after school, Ellie informed me that she talked to her teacher and that she, the girl and the guidance counselor were going to get together to talk about things. I told her I thought that was a good idea. I know you are all on the edge of your seats about the outcome of that meeting but it apparently hasn't happened yet.

This morning Ellie brought up the girl again. "I hope we can work things out," Ellie said quietly, out of the blue, as she waited for her toast. Clearly, this is something that is weighing on her and occupying a lot of her thoughts. I feel for her. In a word, girls suck (don't worry, I was good--I didn't tell her that).

But I remember the pain of fourth grade (fourth grade!) and not knowing who was going to be my friend on any given day And as we all know, it starts earlier and earlier (as is evidenced by Ellie's second grade "drama.") And honestly? Does it ever really end? But a wonderful thing comes with age: we just stop caring what people think of us and boy is it THE BEST.

As I waited for Ellie's toast to pop, thoughts of fourth grade and sixth grade and eleventh grade and 27-year old (and hell-40-year old!) spats swirled around in my head. Finally I looked at Ellie and said: You know what Sweetie? You are doing everything right. You're voicing your feelings. You're explaining your side of the story. You're apologizing when it's appropriate. You are nice to people and you do your best. That's ALL you can do. The simple fact is, not everyone likes everyone. This girl just might not want to be your friend. And you know what? That's OK. I mean, think about it. Do you want to be EVERYONE'S friend?

Ellie shook her head and said she guessed not.

I am in no way belittling or negating Ellie's feelings. I just felt the need to share with her the simple lesson I wish I'd learned a LONG time ago and it's not an easy one to swallow when you're a people pleaser like I am (and like I know Ellie is). Not everyone is going to like you. And that's OK.

It's probably cold comfort for a seven year old who wants everyone to be her friend, but I felt better saying it, and I hope she heard just a little of it, even if it doesn't get fully absorbed for another thirty five years.

Broadway Bound

Saturday night the four of us braved (another) winter storm and headed into the City. It was cold and snowy and blustery and the streets were treacherous and oddly unplowed--in short, leaving the house was about the last thing I wanted to do.


Our local train station always looks so romantic at night.

But we had a very, VERY important destination.

BROADWAY. For Leo and Ellie's first show: (Aladdin)!


Photo courtesy The Washington Post

I was twenty six when I saw my first Broadway show, on a trip to New York a few month before moving there (it was "Rent" of course). What lucky kids these guys are!


Terrible picture, wonderful time.


The excitement was palpable. "How many more minutes, Mommy?" I must have heard that about fifteen times. I can't say I blamed her. It IS a big deal.

The show was wonderful. Like all great Broadway musicals it had fabulous music, wonderful dancing and stunning special effects.

As the lights went up at intermission I leaned forward to gauge Leo's reaction. "Mommy, I love it!" he announced, grinning from ear to ear.



But of course it wasn't just about the play--it was about being able to share this experience with the kids. I've been playing them Broadway show tunes since they were infants and they know that Broadway is a big deal to me (I'm a self-professed Musical Theater Nerd, as you know). So now they know what all the fuss is about, and they have first hand proof that their Mommy isn't too crazy after all--that Broadway IS pretty amazing.

The Kickoff to the Lead Up: Or, Hello Candy Corn

It's officially my favorite time of year. Not only because the weather is fantastic, glorious and inspiring (oh, hi there, golden and ruby red leaves dancing against a stunning backdrop of crystal clear, cornflower blue sky,) but because it's the kickoff to the lead up to the Holiday Seasons (HalloweenThanksgivingChristmasHanukkah).

Plus? ALL the children are in school. For at least a few hours a day (more on that in a minute).

***

For some reason this year I got the urge to cook for Rosh Hashana (I can't remember the last time I did this and I've never done it with/for the kids).



I dug out my mom's old kugel recipe (see above) knowing full well I'd be the only one to eat it. Harry and Leo did take a few bites before pronouncing it "Yucky."


Oh well, their loss.

One item I know would be a hit was the challah, which I'd planned to pick up the day before Rosh Hashana at a nearby bakery. Of course, even though this errand was at the top of my to do list, I forgot, thus necessitating I take all four children out in the rain on Rosh Hashana morning to another nearby bakery that was open.


The shlep was worth it for this beautiful baby, which ended up being the main course for most of the diners (along with apples and honey and the dessert):


The "traditional" Rosh Hashana yellow sheet cake with vanilla buttercream frosting and sprinkles. Because even though I attempted to get them to try the kugel I knew full well NO ONE would eat honey cake. Does anyone like honey cake?

Ellie (who appears to have inherited the family holiday celebration gene) dove headfirst into the Rosh Hashana festivities. While she dipped Gala apples into a ramekin of honey, she wanted to know if we could make Rosh Hashana decorations, and announced that she "loved Rosh Hashana." You really do have to love the enthusiasm of a seven year old.


Speaking of enthusiasm, how about this for an outfit? Puppy dog fleece, Eiffel Tower capris and (not seen) a Hello Kitty tunic. Oh, to be three.




The month of September marked Lucy's first month of preschool and last month of part-time preschool. Oh she's still only going half days but she's now going FIVE days a week (up from three). It became pretty clear when, upon asking if she had school on Tuesday and Thursday mornings and she burst into tears, wailing Yes I AM! that the girl was ready to be in school every day. I was equally ready.

Here's an example of a recent conversation with the ever-ebullient Lucy. It was Monday morning at the breakfast table and she was talking about the upcoming Halloween party (which she was convinced was taking place that afternoon).

Lucy: And later I have a Halloween party!
Ellie: No you don't. Halloween isn't until the end of the month.
Erin: Oh Ellie, why are you trying to ruin her day?
Lucy: Yeah! I LOVE my day!


We had a few, last "just Mommy and Lucy mornings."



On the weekends she asks what time school is and will often insist on eating her lunch from out of her lunch box. Safe to say, she's enjoying her academic life. And for those wondering about her behavior? She is carrying on the family tradition of being a Completely Different Kid at school (read: well behaved). So there you go.

***

Decorating season is in full swing.


And by Decorating I don't just mean interiors. Why should the festivities be limited to the house? (And yes, those are my knee socks thankyouverymuch).



Ellie took it upon herself to start the fall art/craft projects though I'm pretty sure it was just an excuse to get out the candy corn.


Speaking of candy corn, I finally fulfilled a lifetime dream of completing a candy corn wreath (seen above and of course, at the beginning of this post because really, you just can't have too much candy corn wreath). I have to also say that this was completed with lots of instruction and moral support from the fabulous Amy.

I usually wait until at least October to haul out the Halloween decor but Ms. Holiday (Ellie) begged me to "bring out just a couple things" last weekend, so out came the Rubbermaid containers, along with the rest of the Halloween paraphernalia.



"Is this ALL we have?" asked a non-plussed Ellie, registering her deep dissatisfaction in the volume of Halloween trinkets in our possession (there's plenty more than what you see above, trust me). Seriously this girl's middle name is More Is More. So we might have to make a pit stop at the local Goodwill (my secret weapon for holiday decorating) this weekend. And we may also need to pick up a few more bags of candy corn.

Birthdaypalooza and Summer Status

Summer is birthday season around here.

And just like that:


Three.


Seven.


Ten.

Clearly there has been some mix-up because, I have twin toddlers, not preschoolers. And there's just no way I'm old enough to have a TEN YEAR OLD. I mean, really.


They play nicely like this ALL the time, I assure you.

It's amazing that summer is more than half over. In fact, I think school starts a week from tomorrow. Crazy.

Leo and Harry finished up their stints at summer school. Ellie has been enjoying various camps (town camp, gymnastics and to come are science and art). Leo started at his amazing camp last week and comes home every night flushed, smiling and exhausted, so clearly that camp is doing something right. This week Lucy finally gets her turn as she embarks on a mini ballet camp (a whole two hours a day). Speaking of Lucy's camp, you know you've had a couple of kids when, upon emailing your three year old's camp to find out if the TWO HOUR program is drop off and they reply: "If you'd be more comfortable staying that's fine but it is drop-off," your reaction is all YIPPEE!! See you in two hours, Cutie! 

Thursday's List: Super Heroes, Captured Souls, the Energizer Bunny and Eiffel Tower(s) in New Jersey

1. Art and Photography:


Leo recently completed his best to date (in my humble opinion) family portrait. (Left to right): Mommy (Wonder Woman), Leo (Spider Man-OF COURSE), Lucy (Super Man), Harry (Bat Man), Ellie (The Flash Girl), Mama (Green Lantern) and flying high above is of course our dear, sweet, beloved Ruby the Super Dog.


Meanwhile Lucy mastered her very first face.

Ellie's first grade "spring portraits" came home. I never order these and consider them to be somewhat of a scam-- (I'm a traditionalist and normally just do fall).

But then then they had to go and CAPTURE HER SOUL. I mean, really.

2. Food:

The Nutella obsession continues. Every day, post-nap.

Is there anything better than Nutella? Well. No. And by the way, we are now the family that goes through three to four loaves of bread. A week. (Did I mention I finally realized in the midst of last Friday night's "pizza night" that we have officially graduated to needing two pizzas? Thanks Lucy who eats just the cheese off of three slices).

Speaking of Lucy and food, she and Harry have switched places when it comes to their eating habits. He used to be the "easy" voracious one, willing to try anything (Seasoned tofu! Dried seaweed!) and almost always cleaned his plate and asked for more. Now he pushes many of his former favorites away. You know what else is fun? Aside from macaroni and cheese, neither of them like to eat the same thing. Wait. Do Goldfish count?

This morning Lucy ate three pieces of toast and asked for more. Growth spurt? Perhaps. I mentioned this and Ellie piped up, "Maybe she's getting ready to hibernate! That would be relaxing for you, Mommy!"

3. Lucy:


Hello my name is Unadulterated Joy!

It's such a cliche but I have to use it. Lucy is the Energizer Bunny. She makes her presence known at all times, from the moment she awakes at 6:15, softly singing "Let It Go," (it quickly builds to an urgent, pressing crescendo of "MOMMYMOMMYGETMEOUTMOMMYMOMMY!"). Much of the time she is full volume, going 110 miles per hour while the rest of us are strolling along around at 25 (or if you're Harry it's closer to 15). She is insistent, demanding, unreasonably verbal and often hilarious. She does almost everything with a smile on her face, including pouring a cup of water on the floor or taking her pajamas off right before bedtime, making it difficult to get too angry with her, even if her behavior is ridiculous.



 The other day I overhead Harry and her playing together. She'd injured some body part and began pleading with Harry to "KISS IT! KISS IT! KISS IT!" That's when Harry piped up with "Relax."

I don't think any conversation in the history of conversations has better summarized the personality of two little people.

And yes, I MIGHT tell Lucy to Relax! oh, about 97 times a day.


I read something recently that said that said when you start to lose patience with your mind-numbingly impossible almost three year old (OK those were my words), you should look at their tiny feet, as a reminder that they aren't this small for very long. In short: Yes, I lose my patience every once in a while  And yes, I'm an incredible sap.

4. Harry:

Harry's speech continues to explode. He's starting to have little conversations (with himself and others) and it's SO nice that he's finally able to TELL us what he wants and needs and likes (no surprise there: Super Man, dump trucks, garbage trucks, police cars...) He repeats everything (See: "Relax!" and has picked up some adorable little expressions like "That was a close one!"



Harry and Lucy now mostly have free reign of the house. I've pretty much given up on keeping the upstairs gate closed because it never fails that right when I'm in the middle of making scrambled eggs, Harry decides he HAS TO HAVE HIS RACECAR, the one that's in his crib. Oh sure I could send a big kid up to open the gate but it's much easier to let them go up and down as they please. The same now goes for the basement playroom which is VERY EXCITING. Things can get a little too rambunctious sometimes when all four of them are down there but often during the day I send just the twins down while I make lunch or prep dinner. Invariably Lucy spends more time marching up and down the stairs to "Show me something" (Can you say Social Creature) but they still enjoy a bit of independence. As do I.


They love to "hide" in our bed. Or Ellie's. Or Leo's. And pretend to be "sleeping." Trust me they are SO not sleeping.

5. When the Past and the Present Come Crashing Together in a Beautiful and Heartbreaking Way:
A few days ago I drove into the city with the twins and as we sped along the New Jersey turnpike Harry kept pointing out the "Eiffel Tower" (also known as cell phone towers and verrrry tall utility-type towers? I guess?).  Poor kid. (By the way, he knows about the Eiffel Tower from books, "101 Dalmations" and a small Eiffel Tower pendant that I wear on a chain around my neck-he's not that well traveled yet).

Today on our way downstairs from nap, a photograph caught Harry's eye, it was one of my mom and me, almost fifteen years ago, standing in front of, yes, the Eiffel Tower. He'd never noticed it before but was immediately ecstatic and repeated "Eiffel Tower! Eiffel Tower!" over and over again. That's when I crouched down and pointed at my mom and said, "That's Grandma Eleanor. And that's Mommy." Again, Harry repeated. Lucy, standing just a step below Harry on the stairs, looked on with equal interest.


My mom and me, 1999. 

And then just like that the moment passed. Lucy took Harry's hand and said, "Come on Harry, I'll help you go downstairs." They proceeded to scoot down on their tushes as they are apt to do. But this time they were holding hands. Holding. Hands. "Here Harry, I'll help you," Lucy said.

And as I looked down at the backs of those two little heads, Lucy's a wild mess of untamed blonde curls and Harry's, a ruffled, chocolatey brown and growing out little boy haircut, that's when, just for a brief few seconds I felt so overcome with grief that it almost took my breathe away. I was once again reminded: She's missing this.

And then we had to get sweatshirts and shoes and a race car to hold and just the right My Little Pony to carry. It was time to pick Ellie up from school.

February Notes (So Far)

Yes, Harry. That's a lot of freaking snow.



Ellie, on Harry: "Mommy, I don't want Harry to grow up. He's too cute."

She may be a bit biased.


And Harry may have a slightly unorthodox approach to watercolors. Ahem.

It's been snow day, school day, snow day around here lately.

The kids even had school on President's Day, which is usually a school holiday. But we are evidently way out of snow days.


Somewhere in there, is our driveway.

But March is on the horizon and with it, spring will come. Or so I've heard.


Two weeks ago, I swear we woke up in Colorado.


Watching big sister build a snow man.


It is pretty.


"Mommy! I like eating!" Lucy announced the other day. I have NO idea where she gets that from.


Leo came home from school last week with music homework. He had to sing several verses from blues songs. He decided to illustrate his favorite (see above). Naturally it was "Hound Dog."


Ellie has introduced Lucy to the art of dress-up. These girls can entertain each other for a long while. Not going to lie. It's pretty awesome. And based on the garb and styling of these two, it probably comes as no surprise that the other day as Lucy (and Harry) and I strolled the aisles of our local Target, Lucy leaned over to me and said "Mommy, let's buy something fabulous!"

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.

Loss in the Fog and Invitations

Ellie's last soccer game this past Sunday ended ominously (see below) and a bit violently.




I couldn't get enough of the moody weather.



She lost her front tooth! Although it didn't happen the way you probably think it did. One minute she was goofing off (yes, when she should have been cheering her teammates on), the next minute she was running toward me, blood trickling down her soft, pink cheek and tears pouring down too. No, it wasn't knocked out by a ball in the midst of a heroic save, it was pushed out on the sidelines, during horseplay with a teammate. We never did find the tooth (although the guilt-stricken mother of the little girl who accidentally "helped" that little loose tooth did make a sincere effort, looking for it on her hands and knees in the grassy field). I thanked her but said that was really unnecessary (while assuring her that Ellie's tooth had been quite loose). Which it had.


Earlier in the day we made turkeys to decorate the house. You can just never have enough turkey decorations this time of year, that's what I say. "Do I look like a princess doing something very important?" Ellie asked me, as she drew.

Ellie's prime concern, of course, was the Tooth Fairy. Would the Tooth Fairy still come if there was no tooth to leave her, Ellie wondered. I assured her that of course she would come, and not only that, she was sure to find it in the field after everyone went home. Fairies have magical powers, you know. Magical Tooth Finding Powers. I bet she liked the challenge! I offered Ellie. Most of the time teeth are just under a boring old pillow, not lost in the grass.


Pre-lost front tooth smile, otherwise known as first grade portrait from a few weeks ago.

So I suppose you could say that extra care was taken in writing this particular Tooth Fairy note.


"If you want to, you can stay here. I have a bed and everything. I have friends."

The next morning, Ellie wasn't too disappointed to find that the Tooth Fairy had not, in fact, decided to stay. She did leave a note, in addition to a cherry Tootsie Pop and a $1 bill.

For Ellie, that was enough.

On Autumn Leaves, Daisies (the Organized Kind), Toddler Escapees and Misbehavin' (Charts)

1. I forgot how much fun leaves are.







They are great for burying, throwing, piling onto toy dump trucks...really the possibilities are endless. We broke down and hired the yard crew to help out this year but they didn't come until this week, while everyone was at school and work (and obviously, after these pictures were taken). As well intentioned as I am, neither Erin or I have the time. I tried to rake a little on Saturday while the kids were playing outside and, well, if that's not the definition of a Sisyphean task, then I don't know what is. Someday, we'll have quite the little built-in work crew, but that day is not today.


Leo might enjoy the leaves most of all.

2. Ellie joined Girl Scouts. Well, Daisies. No pictures yet but I'm currently on a mission to purchase the  requisite vest (see above). The store where it can be purchased is only open for three hours two Saturdays a month. I know! I am pretty sure if I do make it to that store I will also need to know the secret handshake. She had her first meeting last Friday and I had to got to leave work early to attend the first parent meeting. There was a lot of squealing and giggling going on at her meeting, which I peeked in on, but that's about all I know of Daisies at this point. Also, there will be cookies to sell (and eat) later in the year. A lot of cookies, so that's something to look forward to. (I had to laugh at one mom at the meeting who made a point of saying she could not be a "cookie helper" because she wouldn't be able to trust herself with all those cookies in her house--apparently "cookie helpers" are required to store the ordered cookies).

3. Did I tell you the babies climbed out their cribs? I didn't? Well, The babies climbed out of their cribs. It happened last week during nap time. I was at work and the babysitter called to tell me she found Harry and Lucy sitting outside of their room, smiling and laughing. And apparently, quite pleased with themselves. Yes, the moment every parent fears, finally happened. I guess this should also be the time that I admit that I believe all children should be in cribs until at least age 20.

Mind you, I would be way less concerned about this if we were only talking about one baby, but two babies? Free reign? In a room with just each other? Oh goodness, NO. I am afraid to even talk about this out loud because I fear that our "solution" (threatening the babies that if they don't stay in their cribs they'll have to go to the doctor and get a shot) will stop working. I'm just not mentally ready for toddlers in beds. Just, no.

4. Ellie is suddenly very focused on behavior charts.



It took me a while to realize the guy on Ellie's behavior chart? Is totally flipping us off (Ellie claims it's supposed to be a thumb's up, but I'm not so sure).


There seems to be a ton of talk about behavior in first grade. Several times since school has started, she's told me that she didn't get to do computers or have free time because of bad behavior (not hers, but someone or "someones" in her class). She is frequently adding and subtracting stars to the above chart and even has Harry and Lucy in on the action. "Do you think I should take one of Lucy's stars away?" Ellie asks (The answer is usually, yes-cough, cough-wait, did I just say that?).


Lucy's version of a "thumb's up." And yes, it makes me laugh, every single time.


Columbus' ship, by Leo
Columbus Day, came and went. I don't know about you, but I did not get the day off.

Appreciation

"I want to make a card for my teacher," Ellie announced after dinner a few nights ago.

"Do you think it would be appropriate if I told her that I loved her?" she asked.

"You are the best techre (sic). I love you! Love Ellie."

I told Ellie I thought that would be just fine.

Art Camp, Rare Treat

Last week Ellie went to art camp. I was pretty sure she would enjoy it. And luckily, she did.

Just plain proud. As she should be.

On the last day of camp, they invited parents to attend a "show," exhibiting all the campers' work. The theme for the week was "Art Time Machine."



Inspired by Medieval coat of arms shield (guess which one is Ellie's).


Ellie's, bottom right.


Inspired by Egyptian Hippo, watercolor


Inspired by Monet


Colisseum, pastel


Kandinsky circles, oil pastel


Byzantine paper mosaic


Matisse collage, tissue paper (originally reported by Ellie, to be "toilet paper"). Ha.


After the art "opening," I took Ellie out for frozen yogurt at one of those shmancy places where "top it yourself" Swedish fish and Sour Patch Kids reside alongside chopped strawberries and plump blueberries.

It was a rare treat, a little Mommy and Ellie only, outing. And yes, I even sat next to her in one of those tiny chairs (see above). Per her request, of course.

I remember my mom seemed to always take me out for a treat after events like this. She used to joke, "It's not complete unless we go out and eat a little something afterwards!"


Ellie's topping motto: Never Enough. And the more gummy bears (or gummy anything, really) the better.

The girl knows what's good.

One

I will always remember the grief and fear I felt when I learned we'd be having two babies.

Four kids. Two parents. Totally outnumbered.

The grief was for the loss of our so-called "easy" life with just two kids.

My biggest question stemmed from fear: How would I ever be able to give Leo and Ellie the attention they needed?

Growing up as an only child, some of my sweetest memories are of the things I did one on one with each of my parents. With my dad it was building circus lions out of Legos and drawing aliens and giant, Technicolor flowers on enormous pieces of paper and going roller skating on Friday nights at Oaks Park. With my mom it was getting picked up from school early to have bagels and hot chocolate, shopping at the Lloyd Center Nordstrom ("This one's on me"), meeting in Laurelhurst Park for a walk after walk, (that went on long my twenties.)

The twins must have been about a week old when I sat on the little striped love seat in our living room, to begin the long, exhausting stretch of evening that was tandem nursing newborn Harry and Lucy. It was bedtime and Ellie was crying exhausted, overtired tears "But I want Mommy to read to me. I want Mommy to put me to bed."

"Mommy's busy. She has to feed the babies. She'll come see you as soon as she can."

The words stung. And the hormonal, post-partum tears flowed. Oh did they flow.

The guilt. For as long as Ellie could remember, I had effortlessly put her to bed untethered. Oh sure, the little bedtime ritual had been known to stretch out much longer than it needed to and yes, my patience had been known to wear thin a time or two (or seventeen) but I was there for her when she needed me.

Suddenly, overnight, because of the babies, I wasn't there.

Experienced and encouraging friends and family assured me things would get back to "normal" again someday soon. The babies wouldn't always be so needy and they too would have a bedtime, allowing those treasured evening rituals to return. But it wasn't just bedtime that changed at our house after the arrival of the twins (by the way, everyone was right, the bedtime routine returned to normal after a few months). But just by virtue of there being two babies, it's not uncommon for me to bring one baby with me on an errand with Ellie (or Leo) that before, would have been just us. Things are crowded. Boisterous and fun (Life-y Chaos, anyone?) but one-on-one time? We strive for it, but it's not always possible.

Which is why last Friday was so special.

Ellie's school invited all the parents to chaperone their children on a field trip to the Land of Make Believe, a theme park in western New Jersey. Aside from the fact that a more appropriate name for the place would be the Land That Time Forgot, (there were some old rides there) we had an amazing time. It's a sweet little place.

World's Most Un-P.C. Ride

Clearly Ellie was unaffected by the politics.

Ellie rode her first roller coaster. Luckily I escaped that one (I was not so lucky when it came to the Tilt O'Whirl--she was too short to ride that alone and all I can say is Holy Motion Sickness--I felt so nauseas it was like being ten weeks pregnant all over again). I really did try to go on as many rides as I could with her but I will be the first to admit I am pretty much a ride wimp.

Did you know that Ellie is quite the dare devil? Because I did not. She marched up to nearly every ride, ready to go it alone but delighted of course, when I did join her. Sidenote: the one ride she was too afraid to go on? The ferris wheel! ("Too high," she explained.)

She was (forgive me) thrilled when she found out the roller coaster had a name. All afternoon and into the evening she kept asking me, "What was the name of the roller coaster I went on, Mommy?"

There are many hard things about being a parent to four young children, but I think one of the most difficult is multi-tasking and keeping your head when you are trying to do several things at once and also meet the needs of many little people.

Somebody almost always needs something. It's enough to make me very tense and grouchy sometimes. When I was home on maternity leave with the babies and Ellie, I couldn't get impatient with the babies, so I know that I sometimes lost my temper with Ellie. There were many times when we couldn't do what she wanted to At That Moment (not that there's anything wrong with that). But so often I felt like the words "I can't do that right now," came out of my mouth.

Which is why, to have a whole day of Yes you can do that and Yes you can go on that ride and Yes you can have more cotton candy...

...felt so special. I felt light. Relaxed. I could be completely present and there for just Ellie.

I believe this is right before Ellie announced this was "the best day EVER Mommy!"

As the day drew to a close I asked Ellie if she wanted to get an ice cream cone on our way out. Because, why not? The sun beat down on our heads as we waited in line. The weather was wonderful-unseasonably warm but comfortable and the vanilla soft serve would be the perfect conclusion to our day.

We took our cones and found a spot on the hill overlooking the park. We talked about all the rides we'd been on and Ellie told me how she loved the lemonade they'd served at lunch and she was so glad she got to sit by Sid on the roller coaster. We talked without interruptions or cries from a baby monitor, without having to make compromises about what to do next, without having to ask Leo to take turns with Ellie, or vice versa.

And then a man with a scraggly beard and wearing overalls approached us and caught my eye and I thought He's going to offer to take our picture. He knows what an important day we're having, he can just tell. He wants to help us preserve the memory. How nice.

"Ma'am? The park is closing," he said.

I looked at my phone. Right. 2:30. That's right when they said the park was going to close.

But I wasn't ready to leave.

I took a deep breath and reached out for Ellie's small, sweaty hand. We made our way to the parking lot.