Everything Happens for a Reason

A Shift: Or, The Summer They Stopped Going to Disney Movies

2019-06-25T08:54:00.000-07:00

This is not a recent picture of the children at the movies. Yes, "The Secret Life of Pets" is currently playing, but it's the sequel that's out now. If you look closely at this photo, you'll see this display was touting the first movie (2016) and also, how much younger everyone looks. This was taken on the last day of school when they were 11, 8, 5 and 5, respectively. It was a day they all agreed to see the same movie ("Finding Dory") in a red hot minute. It was also a day, as you can see, that they all agreed to not only appear in a photo together but also smile. This photo popped up in my social media "Memories" the other day, or as I like to call the my daily "Knife to the Heart."

Those days in that picture, are over.

Two days into Summer 2019 and I am already feeling a shift. I'm marveling at how time sometimes feels like molasses and then you wake up one day and no one can agree on a movie for Friday night movie night and one kid is almost always at a friend's house (or plotting to be). One teenager (!) is sleeping, one almost teen (!) is in her room with the door slammed closed, one eight year old is in his room building a Lego dinosaur world and oh yeah, there is still one kid in sight. She's on the couch, her long, bare legs resting on a throw pillow, nose planted squarely in a book. Content, for now.

Ah, summer. While I welcome the break from ~~packing lunches every day~~ a hard and fast routine, I can feel my blood pressure rising and my anxiety bubbling to the surface, more often than I'd like it to. There's a lot to balance, a lot of opinions to manage, a lot of personalities that don't always, shall we say, mesh?

While I'm probably the biggest proponent of down time you will find, I also know that one of the surest ways to keep the peace is to STAY BUSY. There's just one problem that's become increasingly clear in the last few months and that is now staring me in the face as the weeks of summer loom ahead (much of them are camp-filled; some are not): It's very difficult to find activities that everyone in our current age group can agree on. For example: I woke up today to a crashing, window rattling, early summer thunderstorm (sidenote: my absolute favorite). It will be dark and drizzly and muggy all day (aka a perfect movie day) and what do you know, it's $7 Tuesdays (and, even more exciting, to me, $5 popcorn) at a local theater today. There's only one problem: The only person who wants to see "Toy Story 4" is... ME. Womp, womp.

Camp hasn't started yet (next week for two, the week after for one). Leo's summer school program hasn't started yet (tomorrow). In a few days, family will be here for a week's visit. We're in an odd holding pattern where the summer routine hasn't kicked in and as I think about "What We Usually Do in Summer When No One Is At Camp " the shift feels glaring. Gone are the days of announcing the day's activity and having everyone just Go Along With It. But also? Gone are the days of having to bring EVERYONE, EVERYWHERE (ask me how much fun it was to take four kids grocery shopping every week in the summer of 2014. And 2015. And 2016. And, well, you get the idea).

Now, with a teen and a tween, I can leave the two younger ones home while I dart out for errands or a dog walk or a much-needed morning run. So that, of course, is a welcome shift. This new-found freedom makes accomplishing many of the simple tasks necessary to keep a family of six on track, far less aggravating and much less stress-inducing. And yet, as I drive away from the house toward Shoprite, just little old me in the eerily quiet minivan and the kids all at home, I'm left feeling just a little bit baffled. What has happened?

It's true what they say about parenting. And about life, really. It's always changing. This too shall pass? It certainly shall. The bad AND the good (parents of young babies, if you are reading this, I PROMISE they WILL sleep through the night. Sooner than you think).

As I ponder how to best navigate this new change, this new shift, I am struck by the years and years and years of summer days at the playground (I've stopped even suggesting it because I'm just met with groans--no one will DARE step foot there now), the park (Now I get, "Mo-mmy! The park's boring!") and $7 Disney movies and EVERYONE at the grocery store on Friday mornings. And then one day, that's just...gone. That's not to say that good things haven't followed. Babies are squishy and their heads smell like cookies and warm laundry but I will take a big kid sitting across from me at the dinner table telling me about the book they're reading or laughing with them about a grammar snafu (we're nerds, what can I say?) any day, over a baby.

There is more good news: Blessedly, they ALL still like the library and they're always game to go out for ice cream.

"Toy Story 4" is playing at noon today. Is anyone interested? I'll buy the popcorn.

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

2018-06-10T08:29:00.000-07:00

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

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

Oh, hey!

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

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

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

What. The. Heck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fall Round-Up, Before It Becomes Winter

2016-11-07T09:19:00.001-08:00

First day of school, September 2016.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Last Days of Disco

2016-03-28T08:08:00.001-07:00

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

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

The enormity of impending kindergarten is not lost on me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Girls' Weekend

2016-02-21T09:32:00.001-08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So go, we did.

Fairview Lake, Newton, New Jersey

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

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

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

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

They survived the Frozen Swamp Tour.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rock climbing was also highly anticipated.

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

Pretty excited about the name of the camp gift shop.

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

Camporee selfie!!

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

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

31 for 21, Day 24: The News is Good

2015-10-25T07:07:00.002-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leo, 18 months.

Yes.

31 for 21: Day 11, FAIL, Try Again

2015-10-11T06:36:00.001-07:00

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

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

Let's go for some bullets, shall we?

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

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

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

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

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

Apple picking, October 2010.

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

Falling For Fall

2015-10-05T07:09:00.001-07:00

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

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

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

Day 2: Tidbits

2015-10-03T16:10:00.000-07:00

1. It was a cold, rainy Saturday here today. It feels like October came and a switch flipped. Hello, fall. Joaquin (hurricane, that is) spared us thank goodness. Three years out and we're still all a little twitchy, after enduring Super Storm Sandy. Because you just truly never know.

All set for Halloween, already!

2. One week into school and the kids (mostly Ellie) started asking me when we could start decorating for Halloween. I broke my own self-imposed "Not Until October 1" rule after much whining and caved last weekend. Of course they had to throw a "Halloween Party" complete with snacks (Ellie can be quite industrious when she wants to be--see how she fetched everyone beverages and filled the Halloween bowls with snacks?). And yes, they dragged out all the costumes. 'Tis the season.

One costume possibility: Pizza Spider Man. Combining two of Leo's most favorite things. Have I mentioned I will never tire of his fantastic sense of humor?

31 for 21: Hello, Old Friend

2015-10-02T13:31:00.001-07:00

I hardly read other people's blogs anymore let alone attend to my own blog, but I just saw that my friend Cate is doing "31 for 21" (blogging for 31 days of October) and thought, hey! That might be fun. And, um, challenging? Seeing as how I'm lucky to blog once a month let alone every day for a month. The last time I did this I think I had babies and prior to that I did it for years and years (also with babies) and well, what can I say? I'm getting older and (more) nostalgic.

We also won't talk about the fact that it's October 2 so I've technically already missed a post. Ahem.

I have a lot of ideas about what to write about. The trick will be formulating them into some coherent posts. I don't think about Down syndrome too much these days. Eleven years into this gig, Leo is just LEO. Sure I attend IEP meetings every year and certainly communicate with his "team" at school and teachers more than I do with the other children. But that just feels normal to me. I think having other children has helped considerably, in that I don't pin everything (bad) on Down syndrome. For example, when Leo was a challenging preschooler who ran away from me at every turn and refused to go to sleep at night (Ah, the good old days when I had to hold his door closed while he wailed), I blamed his Down syndrome. Fast forward seven years to TWO "typical" preschoolers who delight in running from me in the parking lot and not going to sleep at night.

Little did I, an inexperienced parent know that he was actually just being, you know, a preschooler.

More alike than different, indeed.

On Balance (HAHAHAHA), a New School Year and Free Reign Chaos

2015-09-28T10:30:00.002-07:00

I'm coming out of another work fog that makes me remember that I am a human and that there is life outside of work. It also makes me question how I am handling this Working From Home gig. It's hard, yo!

Then there was the day a few weeks ago that the house internet was down in the midst of a huge work deadline (of course it was!). In the afternoon we all trudged down to the neighborhood "free" wifi spot (Evil Fast Food Restaurant) where I was successfully able to download my much needed document. All was well that ended well there, but not without quote a bit of panic and stress on my part. I think it's clear from the "toasting" of sundaes (seen here) who the winners were that day.

It's all hard:

-Working at the office/commuting/not seeing the kids for ten hours/getting home and scrambling for all the different people begging for attention/feeling guilty because I don't spend enough time with them and the time I do spend isn't "quality" time and I often feel impatient and burned out
-Working from home/carving work in between all the other home responsibilities/seeing the kids for ten hours at a time/getting home and scrambling for all the different people begging for attention/feeling guilty because the time I spend with them isn't "quality" time and I often feel impatient and burned out

But the good thing about being ridiculously stressed and overwhelmed is that when you no longer feel stressed and overwhelmed, you feel Reborn!

After two days on and several days off (Hi, Jewish Holidays), we are officially Back in the Business of School (except for one day last week--Hi Another Jewish holiday). In fact this week, the last one of September, is actually the first full week of school!

Oh, Hiiiiiiiiiiii sixth grade. How's it going? (First day)

Leo is settling into middle school. After a few bumps (on the second week of school it rained. Leo has developed a severe phobia of rain and storms (?) and that day, I was on and off the phone all day with the school nurse, because Leo had come to her with a stomach ache. Several times). We have been talking and talking (and talking) about the importance of rain--to the planet, to the people, you name it. The other bump was that did you know that in middle school they serve pizza Every Day? Leo was confused on a Tuesday when he did not get pizza (because in fifth grade, pizza day was Friday). Sheesh, life is always throwing curve balls, isn't it? Next week he starts some extracurricular activities which I'm excited about (and so is he!): Art Club and Science Club. On the horizon is try-outs for the basketball team (gulp!).

Behold, third grade and Last Year of Preschool x 2

No big news on third grade (fine by me!). Ellie likes her teacher and is happy that one of her good friends is in her class (again). She's started soccer and is enjoying it and Girl Scouts (Brownies) starts again in a few weeks.

Lucy is excited to be in the "Big Kid" class in preschool. She has the teacher Ellie had her last year of Pre-K, which is fun and familiar. After a few relatively smooth months (it's all relative, not sure if smooth is the best word) Lucy seems to be entering another tricky phase. It seemed to kick off with the transition to big kid beds. Maybe it's too much change at once. I could just really do without the tantrums about television and the running away from me in the parking lot. And the driveway. This too shall pass, I know. The thing is, she can be SO SWEET. And mature! And sensitive. When Erin had some oral surgery recently, she came over to her and crawled into her lap and said, "Mama? Does your mouth hurt? I'll be extra sweet to you."

On the first chilly morning of fall I dug out my old beloved khaki trench coat which she complimented me on, calling it my "fancy" coat. When Harry is running around the bedroom without pants on at bedtime and she's quietly brushing her teeth with her legs folded crisscross applesauce, she asks me, "Mommy? Am I being a very good girl?" Jekyll. And. Hyde.

And just like that, we said goodbye to cribs (I know, four is old to be in a crib but if you have twins, you get it). Do not, I repeat DO NOT be fooled by their apparent calm. Cribs for everyone!

I was admiring Harry's Transformer "dollhouse" and "family." "It's NOT a dollhouse family," he replied, incredulous. "It's an ARMY!"

After a month with Lucy at her school, Harry was a little unhappy about having to go back to his other school (where he continues to get the speech therapy that he's happily growing out of the need for but I'm not arguing with free preschool!). His disappointment passed quickly--he now seems to really enjoy where he is--all last year he would ask in the morning, "Is it a school day?" And when he found out it was, his face would fall a little. But now, he has a little spring in his step in the morning and bounds off the bus in the late morning, talking about a handful of little boys he played Transformers with or a book they got to read in library.

And then there's me. Four years in and I'm STILL not accustomed to the chaos of having twins. One four year old is one thing. Two? Right now what I'm struggling most with is listening. As in, they don't listen to me. Or at least, not as much as I need them to.

I am a person who likes order. Routine. And did I mention quiet? OK, I have mostly accepted the fact that our house is the opposite of quiet, but that doesn't mean I don't find it all too much to take sometimes. It seems like for the most part, ever since we converted the cribs to toddler beds, bedtime, or more like, around 4pm every day, evolves into something out of an episode of "Super Nanny, "but BEFORE Super Nanny swoops in and makes everything OK. It just feels completely out of control. Jumping off beds. Ignoring simple, completely reasonable requests like, "Can you please go to the bathroom and put your pajamas on?"

We're trying a few things that are hopefully helping (awarding "coins" for good behavior that they collect to earn a small prize at the end of the week). I HATE material bribes but you do what you gotta do right? I'm also hoping that maybe the novelty of being "free reign" at bedtime will wear off soon.

And you know, there's the flipside of course. These two incredibly frustrating, challenging, adorable, interesting, smart hilarious people. Just as I did the day they were born, I still marvel at them. TWO of them.

To quote Harry, who said, right as I was taking this picture: "There are too many people in this pool!"

Well, four of them.

This too shall pass, and all that jazz.

Summer 2015: What a Difference a Year Makes

2015-08-27T16:05:00.000-07:00

Summer is winding down.

The dog days (hello stretches of 90+ days and insufferable humidity, would you please just bring us a nice, cleaning, good old fashioned east coast summer thunderstorm please?) are upon us.

If I had to sum up the summer in one sentence it would be this:

What a difference a year makes.

There were loads of milestones. I frequently took the twins (and a big kid or two) to the town pool on my own this summer (see above). That felt like a major accomplishment.

I'm not potty training twins.

No one naps.

Everyone is (for the most part) calmer.

I touched on this a bit at the end of last summer, this feeling that I am a fifth wheel and they just don't need me the way they used to (by the way I am not broken up about this and say it without a single tinge of melancholy). I mean, of course they need me. But so much of the time I find that I am mostly doing maintenance and upkeep around here (filling the dishwasher, granting snacks, anticipating the next activity--What in the HELL am I going to make for dinner--and do these people REALLY need to eat AGAIN?).

This is partly my own doing (when they are all home or even when it's just the three of them--usually Ellie, Harry and Lucy in the afternoons, since Leo has been at an all day camp for the last month) they tend to get involved in elaborate activities (vet hospital, mountain lions, Play-Doh, to name a few). For the most part, it's very easy for me step aside and just let them do their own thing (listening with a half an ear of course).

By the way, Ellie? World's best au pair/mother's helper. I seriously could not ask for more. She has saved me more than a few times this summer when I've had to meet a work deadline and the twins are clamoring.

Ellie made us crepes for dinner from her new cookbook (with fresh strawberry topping). Eight thumbs up!

This summer, Leo turned eleven.

Ellie turned eight. She attended gymnastics, art and invention camps.

At the pool on her birthday she had a hot dog AND ice cream. I mean, you only turn eight once, right?

Ellie also learned how to ride a bike.

Leo went on his first overnight at camp (on his birthday, no less!).

Every year on Leo's birthday I have the same thought: that I couldn't be more proud of my boy, and that I wish I could go back in time to that terrifying day he was born and say, 'Self? Leo is going to be JUST FINE. In fact, the day before he turns eleven, he'll ride a jet ski for the first time, and on his actual birthday? He'll go on his first camp overnight.

School, together. Day 1.

Lucy and Harry had milestones too. During the month of August, since Harry's school was closed, he got to attend camp (cough, cough glorified preschool) with Lucy. I was surprised by how much they enjoyed being together (I always assumed they liked the break from each other that separate schools afforded since they are togetherallthetime). But no. Every morning this August, the first words out of Harry's mouth are: "Do I get to go to Lucy's school today?" I actually think he might just be in it for the LEGO bricks in Ms. Jamie's room but I could be wrong.

The thing that is so crazy to me is that the twins are now, the same age as Ellie was when they were born. Maybe it's because there are two of them and they rile each other up so much of the time but they just still seem so--Little. Young. Yes, babyish.

Summer, 2011. Sunrise, Sunset.

We still have a little over a week until school starts. It's hard to believe this is the twins' last year before "real" school (kindergarten). It's hard to believe Leo is heading off to middle school. We received Leo's bust "ticket" for the year and he'll be picked up at 7:30am (YIKES). That's going to be interesting.

Summer Update: On Endings and Beginnings and Tissues

2015-07-17T12:04:00.002-07:00

Our first big "official" summer outing was trip to the strawberry patch. Yes it was raining, and yes it was about 55 degrees (no joke) but I'm proud to report it was the first activity like this that didn't feel like a complete disaster, with toddlers running in one direction and big kids frustrated because we couldn't do "everything." It just felt like, KIDS. Four of them. And it was fun! Imagine that.

We are over halfway through summer (I think?).

July 4 has always felt like the halfway mark to me.

Anyway.

I'm behind. As per usual.

Leo graduated. From fifth grade. Just like that, elementary school, DONE.

This was his reaction:

And this was mine.

It didn't hurt of course, that they concluded the "ceremony" with the entire graduating class singing "We Are the World." My baby! Off to big, bad (I hope not!) middle school. Endings are hard. Goodbyes are harder. Leo's elementary school has always felt safe and nurturing and well, familiar (it hasn't always felt familiar of course, but the beginning, when it was scary and new feels like a billion years ago). Now we know almost everyone and even though it bugs me a little, Leo is known as the "unofficial mayor" (Hello, cliche!) of the school (you know what? Cliche and all, it comes from a good place and you can't really argue with that).

On the last day of school, a much beloved teacher Leo had from kindergarten through second grade sent home a small photo album with a collection of pictures of his years with her, along with a heartfelt card. There was five year old Leo at the pumpkin patch (sob!), there was seven year old Leo making (pudding?) and wearing a Halloween costume (Aww). Not only was it sweet to see pictures of him I'd never seen, it was such a gift to see him "in action" at school, which is this somewhat mysterious other life our children have, largely without us.

Yup, I cried.

I remember when Leo was born (and I ordered basically every book related to Down syndrome from Amazon) reading something about how when you have a child with special needs, you will have an even larger "village" than you would have with a typical child, and you will often connect to these people more deeply. The reasons are many: There are extra challenges and extra struggles of course. There's much more information that needs to be disseminated. Your child's frustrations are theirs, but so are their victories. Also, there is usually much more communication between teacher and parent (in Leo's first year of elementary school there was a daily journal home and many, many emails). You can't help but grow close to these educators that are in the trenches along with you. And so some of them, the really good ones, find a small corner of your heart, where I think Mrs. L. and Mrs. F. (the third grade teacher who told me that I was a "forever friend") will always remain.

Back in May I met with Leo's future teachers at the middle school. We had an informal meeting (not an IEP). Can I pause to say that just once, I'd like to get through a meeting with Leo's school "team" without being a sloppy, teary mess? Bad news, good news--doesn't matter. When it comes to talking about my boy? Tears. This particular meeting was emotional for a variety of reasons. I'm still not completely sold on his placement, but I don't know that many people who have middle-school-aged children with Down syndrome who are. I'm trying to be positive and open minded. I really am.

Thankfully, Leo couldn't disagree more.

A few weeks later Leo and I toured his middle school together. Leo arm wrestled the principal twice and succeeded in not hugging anyone (though you could tell he REALLY wanted to--there had been a stern conversation about hugging prior to the tour). He was disappointed when the visit came to a close and kept trying to extend it (yes, he met the cafeteria ladies, several guidance counselors and found the comic book section of the library where he would have happily remained for the rest of the morning).

Pass the tissues, middle school here we come.

And, We're BACK! With Four Year Olds and Some Thoughts on Summer

2015-06-08T08:03:00.000-07:00

I suppose the great thing about not blogging forever is that when you DO finally blog, you have a lot to say, right?

Let's just jump right in, shall we?

Last week the twins turned four. FOUR.

Celebrating, a day early. This is the first year I made two cakes.

Ask me how on earth this happened and where the last four years of my life went and I will say I HAVE NO IDEA.

At four, Harry is a highly observant little conversationalist. He is thoughtful, loves to asks questions about how things work and it's safe to say his language has EXPLODED. He is still highly emotional (I've lost track of how many times we've had to threaten to take his Lego blocks away after he crumbles when something doesn't "fit" quite right or a Lego vehicle falls apart). We are working on ways for him to manage his many, MANY feelings (the majority of them involving his beloved Lego blocks). He is still a bit of a stunt man, falling off chairs and practically diving head first into rooms. He can be a real snuggler when he wants to be. He eats apples almost as if they are an obsession and can play quietly and independently for very long stretch (one word: Lego).

At four, Lucy continues to be one of the happiest, smiliest people I've ever known. Ebullient is really the word I would use to describe her. She is strong-willed (highly unusual amongst four year olds, I know-HA HA HA) and independent, which is fabulous when she is doing what she's asked to do (put her pajamas on by herself) but not so terrific when she's decided that she DOESN'T want to do what you've asked her to do (put her pajamas on). Have I mentioned that both she and her twin brother are teaching me a thing or two about tantrums? Ahem. Lucy loves to color, draw and play with anything related to horses. She is definitely able to entertain herself more, lining up La La Loopsy girls and creating complicated scenarios and conversations with them. But her favorite playmate of all these days is her big sister Ellie. When Ellie gets home from school it's as though Lucy's day really starts. Last night I overheard her out in the backyard calling, "Eleanor! ELEANOR! You come here! Because I love you and I want to be with you all the time!"

It's hard to believe a little over a year from now these two will be heading off to kindergarten. They still seem SO LITTLE to me and it seems like they have so much maturing to do. I know that a lot happens between turning four and almost turning five. It really is a sweet age (when it's not maddening), and I'm trying hard to enjoy things when I can and not be driven completely insane when things get, shall we say, frustrating.

The school year ends in a little less than two weeks. Like most parents, I'm looking forward to a slower change of pace and perhaps am a little nervous about making everything work. Trust me when I sway I needed a bottle of wine, a spreadsheet and a bank robbery to figure out camps and schedules for all these small people.

Leo and Harry have summer school in July, then Leo goes to camp for all of August, Ellie is attending a variety of camps (art, science, gymnastics) for one week stints but is definitely going to home more this summer than she's ever been before (we shall see about that--she's promised me that she wants this, that she's ready for "down" time--but the jury is out on how this will play). Lucy's schedule is the only one that won't change, she's still doing preschool five mornings a week (though her school becomes a bit more "layed-back" and "camp-like" during the summer months, with water play and theme weeks (camping week, space week, fairy tale week).

Hopefully it will all be JUST FINE and everyone will be reasonably happy, but if not, I am trying to keep this in mind.

It's my mantra for the summer and really should be, even beyond. Erin and I have a running joke that someone is always not quite happy. Eating lunch outside? Three of them cheer and one pipes up, But it's cold! I need a sweater! I want to eat inside! Watching a movie? Three of them agree but one complains, I don't wanna watch that one! We watched it last week! And ask me how hard it is to make dinner (heck, ANY MEAL) for four children and have them all content. It's just not possible. And for a people pleaser like me, it can be exhausting--that endless, constant feeling that something is always not quite right. So, Summer of 2015. Wish us luck!

Newsflash: Not Everyone Likes You

2015-03-28T11:22:00.000-07:00

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

2015-02-23T19:08:00.002-08:00

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.

January Moments

2015-02-04T07:21:00.000-08:00

Snow Day: Still life with outerware.

Let's face it. There's not much that's nice about January.

I forget how much I do not enjoy this time of year. The cold, the unpredictability of snow storms and potential snow days (which I have to admit, I don't dread as much as a I used to, both because I don't have to stress about attempting a commute into the city, coupled with the fact that the children are much better about amusing themselves on a day stuck at home). At least that's nice (trying to find a positive spin, can you tell?).

Snow days: Not what they used to be! (That's a snowman with his scooter and basketball, by the way--because, of course).

Nope, this is definitely not the easiest time of the year. The holidays are over. Spring is a looooong ways away. It's cold. Did I mention it's cold?

This picture was taken back when we could see our driveway. Now? Not so much. Snow, snow and more snow.

We are doing our best to make lemonade out of the snow. Or, in my case, virgin bloody marys (see my glass, above). It was early Sunday morning and I was dreaming about a kid-free, bloody-mary-and-The-New-York-Times-Long-Brunch. Instead, we did a Valentine craft.

I'm going to the library as often as possible. The twins love when I bring home grocery bags of books, devouring them immediately. I usually just take Leo and Ellie with me to the actual library--when I pulled into the parking lot last time they both cheered, so I guess I must be doing something right.

Before the snow and deep freeze pummeled us, the Oregon Grandparents were here for their semiannual winter visit.

We took our traditional trip to our local zoo on New Year's Eve day and it was as magical as ever. For some reason--maybe it's that it's never above 25 degrees when we go, or because everyone has overdosed on the zoo (its "holiday zoo lights" display brings people from far and wide), but there is never anyone else there on New Year's Eve day. Seriously it's like having a private zoo, all to ourselves.

It was just the wolves and us. And yes, they were pretty much licking their chops at these scrumptious children.

One of the best parts about a frigid visit to the zoo is the hot chocolate/donut warm-up that follows.

The next day we feasted on Jewish deli food and watched the big Oregon game. It was fun to have family around to cheer on our "home" team. Most importantly, Ellie and Leo learned the art of chest bumping. (Thanks, Grandpa).

We bid the grandparents a sad goodbye, went back to school and Lucy managed to fall flat on her face and get her first black eye, earning her a new nickname, "Rocky." (I didn't know you could get a black eye wiping out the way Lucy did, but apparently you can).

But by far I think one of my favorite January moments was when Jake and Adam, Leo's buddies from the Friendship Circle, came over for a surprise visit while they were home visiting from college. It took Leo months to stop asking for these guys, who have been spending an hour every weekend with Leo since he was four and they were thirteen. So I thought it would be fun to surprise Leo and not tell him they were coming.

It was better than I could have ever imagined.

Full Circle or "I Want to Help People"

2015-01-20T17:50:00.000-08:00

It took years--YEARS for me to feel safe letting Leo walk in a parking lot without holding my hand, to leave the front door unlocked with him playing in the living room or mudroom or better yet--the FRONT YARD (fence-less) unattended.

I didn't think the day would ever come that I would go to a birthday party with him and not worry the whole time about where all the entrances and exits were, or that I wouldn't wait for the call to come from school saying he had vanished, walked out of a classroom and down the street, never to be heard from again.

And now, he's helping children cross the street. Of course with some supervision. But still! Talk about Full Circle.

Leo first mentioned safety patrol back in the fall. I admit, I dropped the ball. I don't recall seeing a form or application about it come home school, but it may have. I meant to ask his teacher about it but I forgot. Last week the application arrived in his homework folder, front and center, along with a note from Mrs. W: "Leo wants to be on Safety Patrol. Please have him fill out this application and return on Monday."

OK then.

This afternoon, Leo pulled the the neon yellow Safety Patrol sash out of his backpack as though it was a gold medal from the summer games. "My dream came true!" he exclaimed, practically vibrating with joy and pride.

It's no secret Leo loves to help people. If you have as much as a hang-nail he will lovingly prepare an ice pack (he prefers ice cubes wrapped in paper towels--don't ask) and present you with an assortment of Hello Kitty, Buzz Lightyear and Tinkerbell Band-Aids. He will rub your back and prop you up on pillows and announce, "I want to help people."

Erin and I were talking this weekend about how the perfect job would be something in a nurturing field--who knows-maybe a hospital or nursing home. As long as he's happy, and fulfilled--that's all we care about.

Safety Patrol seems like a pretty great start.

December Days (And Nights)

2015-01-11T11:10:00.002-08:00

Happy 2015 to all. My days of commemorating Christmas in a timely manner and writing an eloquent new year send off are apparently on hold for the time being. But I hope you won't lose patience with me and forget about us. Someday I will be eloquent and timely, but now is not that time.

The kids are back to school after a lovely, noisy, messy, hilarious never-a-dull-moment winter break (what's that you say? You can hear me shrieking with glee all the way from New Jersey?).

Of course I joke. As my dad is fond of saying, "All good things must come to an end." There is only so much familytogetherness and staying up late to watch "Grease" and eating as many M&Ms a little person (and her parents) can take before we all run screaming for 8:00 p.m. bedtimes and wheat grass (probably no wheat grass for the kids).

But before that, there was December. Blissful, hopeful, sparkly, glittery, twinkly, all-wrapped-up in teachers' gifts and homemade chocolate oatmeal cookies and holiday school luncheons and Santa visits and staying in our pajamas all day long. Because we could, December.

This visit to Santa was hard-won. I thought I was so clever to wait until late in the season to take them (less crowds) but we still managed to arrive while the Big Guy was on break. Which meant tacking on an extra fifteen minutes to our wait. Which was totally fine of course since three year olds LOVE to wait in line (said no one never). Also? Super grouchy Santa. Notice how no one is sitting on his lap? Luckily I don't think the kids noticed, but what I noticed is, it's no longer about parking for a spell on Santa's knee and casually chatting with him and telling him what you want. It's about, what size photo package would you like, ma'am? Click. Next. Oh well. We'll still be back next year. I finally got organized and framed all the Santa pics from over the years and it's fun to see the progression (and a little terrifying to see how much bigger everyone is from year to year). I'm big on tradition, even if it does sometimes come with a dose of crabby.

Hanukkah came close to Christmas this year, which is always a treat (although it still snuck up on me as it always does and I was the crazy woman shopping at Target on Hanukkah morning, hysterically throwing "Frozen" socks and Transformers and coloring books and Spiderman tooth brushes in my cart). Speaking of gifts, the twins also now think that the custom is to get Hanukkah gifts in the morning--due to a combination of their early bedtime and the fact that since they would surely would surely want to play with whatever gift they got, I saved their presents for the morning. Let's just say they caught on to this right quick and it took a full week after Hanukkah was over for Harry to stop greeting me with "I want to go downstairs and get my Hanukkah present" every morning.

This was the first year that big kids lit candles "by their own" (as Lucy would say), and the first year that the twins allowed the candles to stay lit (you may recall last year, when Lucy insisted on singing "Happy Birthday" and was furious when I wouldn't allow her to blow them out). This year Ellie and Leo also came close to memorizing the Hanukkah blessing.

Once upon a time, Leo's school hosted an annual "holiday lunch" for students and parents. It's been a few years since they held one but I was happy to learn it was back on for this year. Harry was already home from school by lunch time so Dudes in Holiday Sweaters, it was.

There were also preschool holiday concerts (with the requisite Santa visit with the suddenly "shy" Lucy).

There were painted Christmas cookies (edible egg wash).

And more cookies.

There were cards sent home from school that made my heart swell and my eyes tear (see above, from Leo): "I love our family." SOB.

Right before Christmas (two days before winter break) Ellie was felled by an atrocious stomach bug (is there such a thing as a non-atrocious stomach bug?) that she was kind enough to give me as an early Christmas gift. This made the last minute Christmas crunch (teacher gifts, wrapping of and delivering of said teacher gifts), shopping, meal prepping quite, um, challenging?

Fortunately, I was much better by Christmas Eve and able to mostly participate in one of my favorite activities, which is staying up late, watching the beloved "It's a Wonderful Life" and wrapping ALL the Christmas presents with Erin. Usually this is accompanied by Bailey's, but with my body still not being at 100 percent, I skipped it this year. I KNOW.

We were busy, busy elves.

Christmas dawned early (as it does every day). Within seconds the living room was a wrapping paper battlefield (note to self: we need a better Unwrap the Christmas Presents System. Anyone have any recs for "big" families and small, impatient children?). The bouche de Noel (see above) didn't fair much better than the presents.

Later in the day, my trusty assistants and I (eager to test-drive new gifts) fetched Chinese takeout (Nobody felt like cooking and I hardly felt like eating so it was perfect).

As night fell, we did something I'm sure no other family in the world did on Christmas (see above). PS., if you didn't know already? Leo IS Elsa (he doesn't allow anyone in the room to speak when he performs "Let it Go" alongside her).

Ellie stayed up late on Christmas night painting (with a new easel and paint set from Grandma Jerry).

Lucy asked to bring "just a few" of her gifts to bed.

Harry fell asleep with one of his favorite presents (that was of course, actually Leo's).

And it was, the Best Christmas Ever.

Greetings From a Very Grateful "Fifth Wheel"

2014-11-30T20:05:00.000-08:00

Yes, this already happened. We may be a little excited.

I refuse to let a whole month go by with no posting.

Time marches on. Fall is a blur. We've already had our first snow fall.

Did I mention we had our first ever (that I can recall) white Thanksgiving?

Speaking of Thanksgiving, its spoils (the crafts and cards that the children bring home) never get old: Oh Leo, how I love YOU!

We are still trying to figure out Leo's placement for next year. More on that to come. I am in deep, deep (did I mention DEEP?) denial that this year is his last year of elementary school which is another way of saying that next year means middle school. Change is hard (for me). Leo has had a good few months, just finished up his first season of soccer on a special needs team and he's excited about the upcoming basketball season (same league).

I am ridiculously late to posting just about everything that happened in the last few months--this picture feels like a million hundred years ago but Ellie had a blast playing soccer this season. She was incredibly spirited and excited and I think just genuinely loved being a part of a team. She cried when the season ended ("I won't get to see any of the girls on my team anymore!"). She's devouring books (Dan Gutman is her favorite author) and leading us all in holiday craft time (my favorite of late is the ornament she made today, composed of red and green construction paper that said simply: "2014: I was 7.")

This girl continues to push every button of my soul, even buttons I didn't know I existed. She barrels through her little life as her twin brother does, but in a different way. I've never known someone who could be so gleeful as she was being insistent. Often it seems like there simply are no rules in Lucy's life. When I tell her not to do something I'm met with, "Oh MOMMY," and I can almost hear her cluck her little tongue at me as she goes about her merry way, fetching her loaf of bread and jar of blueberry jam out of the refrigerator even though it's only 9:30 am, not lunch time or even snack time and LUCY PUT DOWN THE STEAK KNIFE PLEASE. She's in that challenging "Uppy MOMMY!" phase--it's stunning how she can be so needy and yet so mind-numbingly independent at the same time. Case in point: Tonight I marveled at her ability to put on her own pajamas--she meticulously layed them out on the green shag rug and slipped each miniature leg into a sleeve of knit lavender polka dot legging. "I did it ALL by myself!" She squealed proudly.

And then barely missing a beat, she announced she didn't want to wear those pajamas. She wanted her CHEETA pajamas. Because, of course!!

Sometimes when I get truly desperate, I remind myself that she just wants attention--there's a lot of competition in our house and everyone has a different tactic in getting theirs. And just when I think she is going to throw herself on the ground or burst into tears and refuse to acquiesce, she'll shrug her tiny shoulders and say Oh, OK. Three year olds. They are just little mysteries aren't they?

Harry holds court at the traditional (preschool) feast of chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese.

Harry is thriving at preschool. His language is exploding and his sentences are becoming more complex. "Mommy, I want to go downstairs and eat my dinner. Pick me up!" (This is his command to me every morning--by the way, dinner=breakfast). He continues to have a predilection for falling head first off of chairs and spilling the equivalent of buckets of seltzer (Oh HARRY! is still heard several times a day at our house), but it's partly how he barrels through his little life that makes him so irresistible. When he and Lucy are not having complicated conversations about who has which body part, and disagreeing about who ate all the Pirate Booty, they are telling us they love us. In the last few months Harry and Lucy have become confirmed playmates (they have been all along of course but the "parallel play" has officially graduated into more detailed, organized activities and scenarios. Ellie is often the ring leader: "Let's play Superheros! Let's play Evil Fairies! Let's play Snow Queens!"

I've been meaning to mention this for the last oh, three months (sorry, blog): More and more I feel like the most giant Fifth Wheel in the history of wheels around these four. They play and play and oh sure, fight and bicker and squable and someone bursts into tears and then someone yells and then someone apologizes. And then they go back to playing Snow Queens.

When they asked to do Play-Doh this weekend I cringed inwardly (it usually takes longer to set it up and clean up the mess than the time it takes to actually play it) but with no better ideas to offer (it was 29 degrees outside), I agreed. What followed was an unprecedented TWO HOUR PLAY-DOH MARATHON. I know.

It's amazing. And I never thought I would like being "left out" out of anything. But the other day I took a shower in the morning while they were all downstairs, just playing. I think it's fair to say I never thought that day would come. Life, it does go on.

Middle School Trepidation, (Happy) Conference Tears and My Accidental 31 for 21 Post

2014-10-25T07:38:00.001-07:00

The middle of October? GAH!

This is the first year since I've kept this blog that I have not participated in 31 for 21 (blogging for 31 days in honor of Down syndrome awareness/October as Down syndrome Awareness month).

I am not happy about this. I miss this blog. I miss reflecting on this crazy life. It's not that I'm NOT reflecting, I just don't have the same kind of time to compose my thoughts on said crazy life.

As I always do, I will blame them.

They are so helpful while raking leaves, said no parent of preschool twins EVER.

Fall is in full swing. Our neighborhood is awash in orange twinkly lights and porches are bedecked with pumpkins, hay and mums. There also seems to be a proliferation of zombie decorations this year (or as the twins call them, "b'zombies," to which I echo, "pastrami?"). Don't ask--this is what happens when you spend WAY too much time with two three year olds.

We are almost two months into school (what?) and this week was parent teacher conferences.

I met with Leo's teacher first. It was...ok. He's doing FINE. Math is still his biggest struggle and I'm trying to figure out if it has to be this hard. I mean, I'm not looking for some kind of miracle but I have to wonder if part of it is the way it's being taught. We discussed my interest in him using a more visual math program. I brought up (TouchMath) a program I'd heard good things about and was met with blank looks. I will continue to pursue this. One lightbulb moment though: I don't have to help Leo with his homework. In fact, according to his teacher I shouldn't be doing so. I can't tell you how huge this is. Up until this point I've been sitting with him, dictating some words when he asks, helping him form sentences. The teacher's response: Stop it. He can do it himself and SHOULD be. And guess what? She was right. Of course Leo is not happy about this new development but he'll get used to it.

Our annual visit to...the apple farm parking lot. Ha ha kidding. We did go apple picking, it was just so hectic that I forgot to ask Erin to take a picture until we were about to pack it up go home. Be assured it was scenic!

I can't go into too much detail here but I will say that I am getting VERY NERVOUS about the upcoming transition to middle school. Preparations are already beginning. We are touring a prospective school on Monday and another the following week. This is a time I've been dreading for years, leaving the safe, familiar comfort of his sweet elementary school. The rumor has always been, as one of my dear fellow "special needs" moms puts it, that middle school is "where it all falls apart." Let's hope (OBVIOUSLY) that's not the case. Stay tuned.

Ellie is really into Halloween. Talking about Halloween. Drawing Halloween (seen here: haunted house).

Ellie's conference felt decidedly lighter. When I walked into the room, the teacher welcomed me to a little table and announced that "this is a conference I've been looking forward to."

Swoon.

Of course I teared up. I almost always do at conferences. Yes, Ellie is doing well and fine academically. She's reading at grade level. Math-wise, she's right where she should be. But what her teacher remarked on is Ellie's sensitivity and helpfulness, her compassion and innate ability to recognize when other children need assistance. She detailed how Ellie will help another child, but do it in such a way that she's not drawing attention to herself or seeking out commendation, nor does she in any way make the child feel inferior because they need extra help.

Hmm. Wonder where this comes from? Could it be, that all those articles and studies about the benefits of growing up with a sibling with special needs might actually be true?

Another small example: Ellie's teacher told me that the other day she asked Ellie to bring something to the office and told Ellie she could choose a "buddy" to accompany her. All arms went up in the air. Rather than choose one of her little friends, Ellie, by her own volition, picked a child that is one of the most troublesome, who requires a lot of attention (for behavior). And Ellie's teacher thought that was a pretty impressive choice.

Last night Ellie was asking me about middle school (she listens to everything I say. When will I actually digest this?). "Will Leo and I go to the same middle school?" She asked. I told her no, that it wouldn't work out because of the age difference, but then I did the math and realized they could potentially be in the same high school (OMG. HIGH SCHOOL?).

"But we wouldn't be in the same class, right?"

I said no, not the same class. And then I paused and asked her why she thought that was. I wanted to know if she was going to say something about special needs (she does know the term and she does know about Leo's Down syndrome).

"We won't be in the same class because they don't allow brothers and sisters to be in the same class," Ellie announced with certainty and pride and just a tinge of irritation for my not knowing this.

Swoon again.

So there you go. And maybe this is my accidental "31 for 21 post."

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

2014-10-03T08:24:00.001-07:00

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.

September, So Far

2014-09-21T18:10:00.000-07:00

Monday morning means the return of the pile o' packs.

Waiting. And waiting some more for Leo's bus. His afternoon bus? Is of course early. Twice last week I had to call to the bus to wait and I rounded the corner on the way home from picking Ellie up. "That's my kid!" I yelled, as I saw the bus begin to pull away. Ellie thought that was pretty funny.

Pretty much fulfilled a major parenting dream here: tiny, old school Sauconys.

"Look Mommy," said Ellie, "I'm dipping Harry!"

This is what a non-napping three old looks like. He falls asleep in anything with wheels (car, stroller). That day he stayed asleep when I went to get him out of the stroller. RARE. It was sweet to have a sleeping "baby" on my shoulder, even if it only lasted a few minutes.

Another view of a non-napping three year old. She pretty much just goes "splat" when her head hits the pillow at night.

I am unreasonably excited about the crisp mornings and cool evenings we've been enjoying since almost the first week of September. This of course means the return of knee sock season. Summers here can be horrific, winters are interminable, spring is two weeks long. But fall? Oh east coast fall I adore you.

Harry and Lucy Lebowitz, the old married couple spending their Golden Years at the Catskills (actually it's Harry and Lucy eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Goldfish for dinner while they watched Ellie at soccer practice).

I need a flow chart. Seriously. Every day is different (but all hail Friday, aka pizza day when no one needs a lunch packed). Ahhhhh.

"Back to School Night," the Harry edition.

"Back to School Night, the Ellie edition.

(Due to scheduling conflicts, and our inability to clone ourselves, we had to miss Leo and Lucy's back to school nights. Otherwise known as the plight of having four children and back to school nights that are held on the Same Day at the Same Time. Sigh.)

I pretty much just put my face into this entire box after making it through the first week of four kids in four schools, oh yes I did.

5, 2, Pre-K, Pre-K: Ready, Set, Go!

2014-09-07T17:39:00.001-07:00

And just like that, summer was over.

All in all, it was a good one. It was not without its complications of course (working part-time from home with four kids? Not for the faint of heart-By the way, I think I need to just go ahead and pre-order that line on my grave stone: Not For The Faint of Heart). But considering all there was to balance, I think it went well. It was the first I spent with the kids since The First Summer (that would be, when the twins were born and GAH I think I have basically repressed that by necessity). Needless to say life at home with four that includes twin three year olds is a little different than newborn twins (newsflash!).

I want to say this was our last "hard" year (stop laughing). Maybe next year I will be able to manage more daring outings solo? In the beginning and middle of the summer we were still haggling with naps so we were limited schedule-wise--oh but those days are all in the past now (SOB). Harry could definitely still use one, a fact which he makes particularly clear around 2:58 pm each day when suddenly all the Lego structures start falling apart and he wants cheese crackers right! Nowwwww! And whyyyyy can't he have MORE Batman Legos? But instead, he chose to fall asleep on the way to picking Ellie up from camp. For a whole ten minutes. On particularly long days, Lucy would usually snooze on the way home. Because, tandem naps? HA!

It was Ellie who had this genius idea when we went school supply shopping last week. Two carts! One for Twins, one for Stuff. Brilliant. Everyone was happy, reasonably calm and well-behaved. Also? Contained. WIN!

By Labor Day everyone was clamoring to get back to routine (or start one). This was at 7:30 in the morning. Ellie playing school with her eager students.

Ironically, the littlest one was the first to go back. Lucy started preschool last Wednesday (a day before the other three returned). So far (all two days), so good! Her teacher has picked up on her "stubborn streak" (a kind word for Lucy's tendency to uh, bulldoze her way through life), but we shall see how it all shakes out. She is certainly ready, that we know.

First day of second and fifth grade. No idea what was going on with this little love fest here. I think they were both so thrilled to soon be rid of each other that they decided to show a little last-minute affection.

I know, I know, Harry was in preschool for much of the summer but he was "off" the whole month of August and he had an official first day just like the big kids.

Day one had Ellie very excited to impress her new teacher (or maybe she was just eager to try out the Mr. Sketch markers I had to go to two different stores to find-they were on her supply list as "required.")

Ready! Set! Everyone say, Back to School!

And that's just what they did.

Big Summer Blowout: Odds & Ends

2014-08-24T18:27:00.000-07:00

'

Summer is winding down for us. Though I did make the terrifying discovery last week that school doesn't start for the big kids until September 4 (for some reason I had it in my head that it was the Tuesday after Labor Day). I know, I know, it's only two days. But it's--TWO DAYS. Leo and Ellie both finished camp last week so this will enable us to have, um, lots of last minute togetherness.

Leo LOVED his camp. I can't say enough great things about his experience there this summer. He came every week with new pottery creations, he scaled the rock wall, he travailed the zip line, he swam twice a day and had private swimming lessons. It's just a shame he couldn't have been better prepared for Rainbow Day.

As mentioned previously, Ellie enjoyed a variety of week long camps. Just like last year, she loved art camp (she's asked to do two weeks next summer).

I might be just a little proud of the work she did there.

The Eiffel Tower was my favorite, of course.

She was so inspired that week that as soon as we could clear the breakfast dishes away she was asking to paint. She then led the twins in a 7:30 a.m. painting clinic.

These two. This was in the waiting room of the pediatrician's office (Ellie insisted I take her in after she suffered a week with a cold--she was convinced she had the strep throat that Lucy had a few weeks before--"I think it's pretty obvious I have strep," Ellie informed me, not even trying to mask her impatience--Spoiler alert: she did not have strep). They just seem giant to me lately (see above). Like, who stole my babies and replaced them with these big kids? (Not that they are acting like big kids or anything).

Speaking of camp. Lucy's tights fared about as well at "ballet camp" as Lucy did. We got a call the second day to come pick her up because she not only refused to participate but was being "defiant." Apparently she enjoyed the craft and snack portion of the camp but seemed to not like the actual "dance" element of dance camp. Whoops.

No Jedi Camp for Harry. Just a lot of backyard light sabering and Lego playing and Batman Lego and Super Hero book reading.

I don't even know what to say about these people. Did I mention all of this happened before 8 a.m.?

A pretty great summer, if you ask me.