Everything Happens for a Reason

Around Here

2013-05-22T08:16:00.000-07:00

Why is your soccer playing crying, I asked Ellie. "She's not crying. She's sweating!" Ellie replied.

Open Refrigerator: Siren's call to a pair of babies I know. Because, you know, we never feed them. Savages. Oops, I mean, scavengers. Right.

Ketchup Block. What's that you ask? Why, it's a large box of cereal placed between Ellie and the offender, her most dreaded condiment of all time (ketchup). Feel free to use "Ketchup Block" in conversation as much as possible: I feel strongly that it has a place in our cultural lexicon.

This weekend Leo discovered the Sunday "Funnies."

Harry hitches a ride. Those baby giggles, you should hear them. Best. Sound. In. The. World.

Threadless

2013-05-17T12:59:00.001-07:00

I keep waiting to post these pictures for a time when I have a "real" post. Some kind of thread that ties everything together.

Sorry to say, this is not that post.

Because I realize that if I wait too long, these pictures will be outdated. And by too long, I mean oh, two weeks. These pictures are from just a few weekends ago, and I swear the babies already seem bigger and older now than they do here.

Harry is still a fan of Thomas and can usually be seen clutching one of his little Thomas trains. Recently he's discovered other vehicles: see above. Each morning when Leo's bus pulls up in front of the house, Harry greets it with unabashed enthusiasm, waving and grinning. Last week we he rounded out his vehicle collection with a miniature New York City taxi cab, thus adding a new word to Harry's vocabulary: "Ta-eee."

All hail garage sale season and a recent score: the Fisher Price Popper.

Best fifty cents I've spent in a long time.

Lucy is busting out with sentences: "I like that" and "I think so." (When she doesn't have a mouthful of ice cream, of course.)

I swear that Ellie made this exact expression at this age. I have to dig up some old pictures.

It's the old Sure, Mom. You want to take a picture of me? Picture THIS.

I'll give you two guesses as to who tends to be the messier eater of ice cream.

Happy weekend, all.

The Mother's Day Mother Lode

2013-05-15T13:00:00.002-07:00

The questions started early last week.

From Ellie: "When is Mother's Day? When is it again? How many days?"

Translation: I love you and you will get lots of presents (I think?)

Saturday morning, Ellie greeted me with the following: "Today's going to be a real party for mothers! Hip hip, hooray!"

Do not ask me where she gets this.

At some point on Saturday I was dealing with a behavior issue of some kind and I grumbled about it (note to self: she listens to everything I say, you'd think I would remember this by now) and Ellie chimed in, incredulously, shaking her head: "Yeah! And tomorrow is Mother's Day!"

Early in the week, Ellie began hinting that she had something for me. For Erin.

I'll leave it up to you to decide who is who. Ellie gave us our cards the Thursday before the Big Day. Being five-and-a-half, she has very little patience (shock!) but in this instance it was endearing.

Leo pounced on me the second I walked in the door on Friday afternoon, to give me one of these. Like Ellie, he absolutely refused to wait until Sunday.

Again, this is impatience I can handle. What can I say? I'm flattered. Could it be that we mothers are...maybe...possibly, sometimes...doing something right?

This weekend Erin also introduced Leo to a new phrase, which I have to say I'm a fan of:
"Mommy knows best." He said it throughout the weekend.

As if that wasn't enough, Ellie made me yet another card on The Big Day. She had high hopes for the day.

And of course, Harry and Lucy could not be left out of the party.

Yes, signed by the babies themselves. Erin may or may not have helped. A little.

Throughout the day on Sunday, Ellie kept checking in with me: Are you having a good Mother's Day, Mommy? Are you?

Oh YES, I answered.

I meant it.

I have to say, Ellie's prediction?

Definitely came true. As I wrote last year, for me, Mother's Day can be complicated: simultaneously joyous (how could it not be? Four (!) wonderful little people). But it can also be tinged with some grief.

Not pictured: the best Co-Mom this Mommy could ask for: Erin (who was busy taking the photo).

But I can honestly say, this year, which included coffee served in bed by all four at 6:45 a.m. (yes, it was just as relaxing as it sounds), breakfast at the neighborhood diner at 7:30, Ellie's soccer game under a cornflower blue sky, a neighborhood walk with a serendipitous run-in with the Ice Cream Man (Ellie's been plotting this for weeks), backyard play (the water table thrills all, again) was the happiest Mother's Day I've had in a very long time. I'd venture to say, ever.

You know what else I love about Mother's Day? Wherever I went, if I had a kid with me? Someone wished me a "Happy Mother's Day." From the cashier at CVS to the random stranger standing outside Starbucks with a cigarette and a coffee. It was just sweet.

I hope yours was happy too.

Mother's Day 2013

2013-05-12T00:00:00.000-07:00

"Making the decision to have a child is momentous...

Mama Erin, June 2011

My mom and me, Amsterdam, August, 1999

Grandma Jerry, March 2012

Grandma Linnea, May 2012

March 2013

...It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." -Elizabeth Stone

Happy Mother's Day, to all the mothers in your life.

What Showers? April in Pictures

2013-05-03T13:58:00.004-07:00

Turns out, you're never too old (or too big) for the water table. In other news, I think we're going to have a super fun summer in the back yard this year. No more, two kids, two babies. Look out world, four, fully (sort of/mostly) fledged kiddos!

Two guys at Five Guys.

And just a guy and a girl. Lucy's all, "Where's ma foooood?" Harry, meanwhile? Toy vehicle? Totally content.

In other news, I'm in love with my little bleeding heart plant. So perfect, it doesn't even look real. Swoon.

Speaking of love, these two were in lurve with this toddler sized playground they got to explore while Ellie was at swim class last week. Nobody yelled Harry! No ladder! Lucy Get Away From the Ladder! (The ladder on our backyard playground is way to high for them. Another year and they'll be golden).

But this little number?

A perfect fit.

As you can see.

Sunday morning jam sesh.

Rock on, weekend.

12

2013-04-29T12:40:00.000-07:00

Twelve years ago, Erin and I took the leap. In a little backyard in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

Pictured here, almost twelve years and four kids later, I think we still have it.

If someone would have told me that day, what our future would be and how many wonderful adventures we would have?

I never would have believed it.

"Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends."
-1 Corinthians 13

Here's to many, many more, Sweetie.

Fourth vs. First: Hair Edition

2013-04-29T10:21:00.000-07:00

I could say a lot about the difference between your first and your fourth child. The other day, for example, I realized that now when I hear a crash, rather than rushing to see what I happened, I wait a beat to hear if anyone is crying before going to investigate. Mother of the Year? Perhaps.

Take first haircuts. Lucy (aka Baby #4), clearly needed one.

Many moons ago, so did Baby #1 (aka Leo). Sidenote: OMG his hair was gorgeous but OMG What Were We Thinking with that hair?

I clearly remember taking Leo for his first haircut. It was at one of those places that specialize in kid's cuts. A lot of pictures were taken (though curiously I can't seem to find any of them). There may have even been a video. Precious, first shorn locks were carefully and lovingly tucked away into a special "commemorative" envelope, sealed for posterity.

Lucy's first haircut? Let's just say it happened around 8 a.m. in our backyard on Sunday morning. I grabbed the scissors on my way out of the kitchen where I'd dashed to grab a bowl of Pirate Booty for the gang to share (what? Isn't that what you crave at 8 a.m.?). I managed to get Lucy to sit for a minute.

Before.

After. She seems pleased, yes?

For the record, I did save those little blond wisps and sealed them in an envelope. I wrote (with crayon of course, because it was there): "Lucy First haircut (Bangs), 4/28/13" (so I don't wonder someday why her first haircut was such a small little swirl). Because you know what? First haircut at Fancy Place? First haircut on the back deck? It's still important.

I may have taken off a bit more than I would have liked but it's growing on me. I look at the new 'do and think: Short and Sassy. Best of all it's out of her eyes. I was a big fan of the long bangs pinned to the side in a barrette. She...was not: "Don't want it! (pointed to adorable purple poodle clip) No!"

Anyway, the new cut seems to suit her. I didn't know someone under the age of two could actually strut, but Lucy can. And she does. Short and sassy, that one is. From head to toe.

According to the Girl With the Yellow Head

2013-04-26T10:41:00.000-07:00

After more than a few days above sixty degrees, after a bounty of daffodils and tulips and forsythia and an explosion of cherry blossoms and plum blossoms and I-don't-know-what-they're-called-blossoms, I hereby declare, spring has finally arrived (here).

She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbor:
"Winter is dead."
-A.A. Milne, When We Were Very Young

Good weather can make people kinder, more generous.

Have you noticed this?

"In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt."
-Margaret Atwood, Bluebeard's Egg

Just ask Harry about the dirt. He is our in-house Dirt Expert.

Spring means the return of dining al fresco.

Goldfish just taste better outside, don't you agree?

The view from inside isn't bad.

The company is pretty good too.

"When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people, and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness, except for the very few that were as good as spring itself."
-Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

Student of the Week, Otherwise Known as Mommy Panics and Feels Guilty For No Reason

2013-04-22T13:24:00.000-07:00

In January, a few days after school resumed following the winter break, Ellie came home with a hand-out about a future assignment: "Student of the Week." Starting that month, each kindergartner would be assigned a week in which they would prepare a presentation (and design a poster board) about themselves and their family, depicting their likes and dislikes, and their family's customs and traditions.

I put the paper aside, relieved that Ellie was assigned a week in April. Nothing like good old procrastination.

Don't get me wrong: I think it's a wonderful project. It's a wonderful exercise for kindergarteners to write about their favorite topic (Themselves!). And what fun it will be to look back someday on a five year old Ellie and her favorite foods and places to travel and activities.

My concern was finding a chunk of time to help her. As much as I love the open floor plan of our downstairs, it doesn't provide a place we can go and close the door and work without the prying fingers of the fearsome twosome Harry and Lucy. Oh sure there's morning nap time, but Saturday Ellie has swimming and then Sunday morning is soccer and blah blah blah. Also, I didn't want to have to rush through this project with her. I wanted to really be present (I know, gag, but you know what I mean) with her while we did it.

I also know what you're thinking. Why did you wait until the day before to do it? Well, in a different world, or, more specifically for me, in a world pre-twins, I'm sure I would have not left it until the last minute. I was, after all, the college student who frequently wrote the essay the week it was assigned (even if I had three weeks to do it), so severe was my anxiety of impending deadlines. Yes, my name is Maya, and I'm a planner.

But those days, as we know, are loooong gone. At least for now.

So there we were yesterday afternoon, Ellie and I, sitting in our sunny kitchen during the twins' 4 p.m. nap(time). Their voices on the monitor started out innocuously enough with Lucy's adorable banter: "Herry! Herrrrry!" And there were Harry's mumblings and garbled babbling. Books were tossed and mattresses were jumped on.

As we worked, the sounds over the monitor became more urgent. Playful banter dissolved into whining. Then crying.

I did my best to block out the noise. They're fine, I told myself. They need the "quiet" time even if they don't rest and there's no way on god's green earth we can get this done if they're downstairs, what with Harry's prediliction for stealing pens and running crazily through the house, not to mention Lucy's insistence on sharing a chair with Ellie and scribbling on whatever her big sister is drawing/writing.

Then came the wailing. It was mostly Harry, who can cry so loud it's as if he himself is two babies. I can only liken him to an ambulance-and once he starts, he doesn't stop and only gets louder and louder.

Ugh, I thought to myself. This stinks. I wish I could do something, ANYTHING in my life right now wherein I didn't feel like I was rushing to finish it, where I felt like I could never do the best job possible since at any moment the babies would need something. Oh sure, it's no where near what it was like when they were newborns, the needs are less constant but still omnipresent and these days, involve safety: there is Harry climbing onto the window sill. There is Lucy, teetering off the edge of a chair. It's a constant challenge, trying to balance the big kids' needs with the needs of the babies. Ellie must be so annoyed. And frustrated. They always need something. So much of the time they take attention away from her and her older brother.

Ellie picked through the stack of pictures I'd presented her with, to illustrate her "All About Me" poster and paused on a picture of Harry and Lucy from our trip to Disney World, more than a year ago. The babies looked like different people, so squishy and little-they both had the telltale chunky thighs of babies who are not yet walking.

"This one," she said, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. "This is my favorite part of my family," she said quietly, gazing at decidedly baby versions of Harry and Lucy, rosy-faced and flushed, hair poofy from the Florida humidity.

Ellie reached for the tape and started to make little tape donuts.

So much for annoyed and frustrated.

Ellie drew and wrote and cut and taped. I helped with some layout ideas and suggested we add some stickers to fill in the negative space. But Ellie basically did the whole thing herself.

My Family (pictured)
Favorite Place to Travel: Disney World
Favorite Food: Cake with chocolate frosting
Favorite activity: Bike riding
Favorite animal: Rabbit
Favorite television show: Ninja Turtles and Care Bears
Favorite color(s): pink and blue

(She also brought her favorite books to school, along with her favorite toy (Stuffed animal, a pink teddy bear from Build-a-Bear) and will instruct her class on how her family lights the menorah during Hanukkah).

And yes, she picked the color of the poster board (I'm sure you're simply shocked to learn this).

We bought it last weekend at Target on one of our excursions with the whole gang while Erin was away in London (Last weekend. See?! I am capable of some advanced planning!). I was so proud that I'd remembered it and of course we got it toward the end of our shopping trip and of course someone was fussing while we looked through the poster board options. I'd wished we'd had more time to ponder the selection but I felt hurried by babies, anticipating (and hoping to avoid) the proverbial cash register meltdown. Once again, Ellie rallied and seemed completely oblivious to my concerns.

As we lay in bed that night talking about our weekend (it was the second one with Erin away, so things were hectic, to say the least), I asked Ellie what her favorite part of the weekend had been.

"Buying my poster at the store!"

Kids can be remarkably, almost heartbreakingly easy.

And oh so very forgiving.

After the Din

2013-04-16T12:52:00.003-07:00

Lucy, mid-run; Leo with his ever-present ball, mid-flight. They are in constant, constant motion.

I'm coming off of almost 72 straight hours of children. My children. Whom of course, I adore. But dang. I'm spent.

You know how when you go to the beach and you're there all day and then you come home and you lie in bed and you hear the ocean, the waves crashing? You're not actually hearing the waves, it just seems like you are because there has been that constant din of waves. That's a little how I felt as I collapsed onto the bus this morning, en route to work. Though not there, I heard the hum of little children. The shrieks. The commands. The demands. The crying. And of course, the laughter. The actual silence that followed was almost disorienting.

My (unplanned=Monday=sick nanny) long weekend. To say nothing of the ten days Erin was gone for work. It was the best of times, with just a couple of "worst" thrown in. I feel a bit like a contestant in the parenting olympics and think I at least scored a silver. Ellie might say it was more like a bronze. But all in all, I'm very proud of everyone, including myself.

If anyone had told me two years ago that I'd be able to take four children, alone, to two separate stores, I would have been shocked. But there we were, bright and early on Sunday morning, my little gang and me at Trader Joe's. It was there that I discovered if I let Leo push the shopping cart? He makes it his Mission and Does Not Stray. Perfection. Oh yes, with Leo pushing that cart and me trailing behind with the giant stroller and Ellie tailing us, I got the usual looks of pity/horror/bemusement. "Four kids at the store? You win!" came the greeting by a Trader Joe's employee when the gaggle of us walked through the door. Later, we went to Target for a (fruitless) quest for curtains. And would you believe I even remembered everything on my list? (Money saving tip: bring four children with you to the store and I guarantee you will not spend much--two word: In and Out).

No child labor laws were broken here. Ellie actually asked if she could mop. I KNOW. I knew these people would earn their keep some day!

The last time Erin was away for two weekends (and the weekdays between them), my sister and brother-in-law came to visit for that second weekend (I'm ok for the first weekend. By the second? I am definitely losing steam and possibly some patience. And brain cells.). Of course it was wonderful to see Norah and Ryan when they visited, but they were also extremely helpful. Extra grown-up hands allowed us to do things we can't normally do when it's just me and also provided me the opportunity to do something absolutely crazy like, oh I don't know, leave the house without four children in tow? Or maybe with just two?

So this time on my own was a little different. But you know what? We made it. And had plenty of fun
(as well as some tears and ok, fine, I may have lost my temper once or twice (but not my mind! Yay!). At the end of the day, bedtime always comes and there's always coffee in the morning (except for when your coffee pot breaks, ahem).

Over the weekend, Lucy discovered the joys of seltzer in a cup. Harry remains unsure about that whole thing.

And when the text came in yesterday with the news that my nanny was sick (meaning I couldn't go to work, she only works weekdays) I was too tired to have an emotion about it. Part of me couldn't believe I didn't get the "break" of going to work. But part of me is always a little grateful to have a few hours of just Baby Time. Harry and Lucy are growing up so fast, growing and changing every day and it's hard to pick up on the little intricacies when I'm alone with all four.

I haven't been alone with "just" the babies for about a month and yesterday I was shocked by how much they'd changed in a just a few weeks. For one, they're starting to play together more. There's the ever-popular close the glass mudroom door on your sister and then open the door on your brother and Squeal! You're still there!

Lucy steals Harry's trains and he pads after her furiously, tackles her and she rolls over onto him and there is breathless laughter that turns from giggling to crying, back to giggling. I reach for the camera but it's all over almost as soon as it's begun. And I'm nearly frozen with indecision: should I intervene? Is it ok for one baby to sit on another baby's head (they're light, right?), even if the baby on the bottom is giggling and clearly enjoying himself? Mostly, I just can't believe all of this bustle, that these two tiny twin people are here, in my house. That I get to be witness to them.

Photo taken by Uncle Ryan, a little over a month ago (note the snow). The babies already seem so much more giant than they appear here.

I'm experimenting a little with the naps (Lucy is definitely trying to drop that afternoon snooze) and yesterday Harry went Against The Plan and fell asleep after morning errands in the car, which meant no after lunch nap, which meant incredibly rare 1:1 time with the Hare-Man. Which meant for thirty blissful minutes yesterday, I lay on the couch while Harry played with his two new Thomas Trains (we'd gone to the store (again) in search of new curtains (again) and ended up spending the bulk of our time in the toy section trying to soothe a fussy Harry, which meant guess who scored two new trains?). This boy loves his Thomas trains (but not just any Thomas trains, they have to be the "real" (metal)) ones, not the flimsy plastic ones. He is perfectly content to line them up on the couch and chatter away at them. Unless he's lining them up on the top of the kitchen garbage can, where he can see himself, where he can alternate between lining up trains and kissing his own reflection or cackling at himself as he dances around. And no, I'm not kidding and yes, I almost died from the cuteness.

Amid the exhaustion and the relentlessness and the "Look Mommys!" and Lucy's whines and Leo's roaring "NO's" and Ellie's "It's your fault!" there are these little blisssful pockets when being home just feels good and right and unbearably brief and fleeting. And then of course, there are the loooong weekend afternoons where I begin watching the clock at 4:30. Is it bedtime yet?

But it's not every day I get to pick Ellie up from school and, upon discovery that I brought the dog with me, see a look of pure joy and happy surprise wash over her face as she shrieks: "You brought Ruby?! I didn't expect to see Ruby!"

There are times, when I sit next to Lucy in her high chair as she plays footsy with my arm as she drinks her after lunch milk, eyes half closed with a contented sleepiness, those are the times that I get that Pang and feel like I'm missing so much by not being home with them every day. There are countless little moments that I miss when I'm not with them every day. But the fact that I'm not home with them every day, I think, gives me the ability to see the specialness of the little moments. Nothing is perfect.

Ellie's homework yesterday: Draw the number of family members you have and illustrate.

And It Happened on Friday the Twelfth

2013-04-12T12:29:00.000-07:00

This is, um, not what a typical cup of coffee looks like at my house, but hey, a girl can dream, right?

Though not a coffee snob, I take my morning beverage seriously. I've been known to actually fantasize about the first cup of the morning--the clink of the cup, the splash of the cold cream, the toasty warm mug and the feel of the soothing steam as I raise it to my lips. It's not just something I look forward to, to start my day, I require it.

But mornings at our house are just a touch circus-like (imagine!) and so making coffee is never the first thing I do (though it probably should be, to protect the innocent from harm HA HA). If I were really smart I'd program the coffee pot the night before (because what's that old saying? Put on your own oxygen mask first?), but unattended appliances make me irrationally nervous. And so I hurry through my to-do list as quickly as possible: Breakfast, milk for the babies, get the big kids going on getting dressed. More often than not I have a baby (Hi Lucy!) on my hip as I rinse the pot and filter out and grind the beans. But as long as I'm that much closer to coffee! Coffee! What's a little company?

I'd sensed something was off about the coffee maker the other day. Was it the odd smell of burning plastic that tipped me off? But it worked just fine on Wednesday, so I forgot about the plastic smell. Then, this morning, as I breezed through my check list and finally paused to pour that long awaited First Cup, it happened. There was no coffee. The pot was on, plugged in, little red "power" light on, but alas. Dead.

Ellie watched me tinkering with it and muttering and when I told her I thought it was broken she said, "The coffee of living? You can't live without coffee!"

Between that and the red Annie dress? Seriously, my work here is DONE. (Side note: New gummy grin: this child lost two teeth in one week and now has almost a whole row of just gum).

Meanwhile I'm wondering how much I'm willing to spend on same day shipping on a coffee pot. Because, another morning without it? Just, NO.

Harry clearly hasn't had that first cup of coffee either.

Tuesday Snippets

2013-04-09T08:49:00.000-07:00

Rare, blissful moment of calm. Exhale.

Erin has been traveling a lot for work. Which means I have been even more outnumbered than usual. It has made for some intense, exhausting, but of course, hilarious moments.

And if I ever hope to blog again, for now we'll have to make do with some snippets of life, because right now, that's all I got:

Me: OK Ellie, you're going to help me this weekend right? It's just going to be Mommy and I need everyone to work together and be good listeners.
Ellie: Right! So...let me get this straight. There's gonna be one grownup and four kids, and two of them who just mess around.
Me: Who messes around?
Ellie: The babies!

And speaking of hilarious: I'm slowly unloading (via Craigslist) a bounty of baby items that have been cluttering our basement (swings, exersaucers). On Friday a very pregnant woman came and bought my remaining swing. She took one look at barefooted Leo and Ellie zooming around the front yard and Harry and Lucy, pounding on the glass storm door (Let! Us! Out!) and asked me, stone cold serious, "Is this a daycare?"

I mean. You have to laugh.

We've been the benefactors of some recent delightful spring weather (high 70s today--as Ellie would say, what the what?). Of course that means I throw everyone outside as much as possible. On Saturday, Leo and Ellie concocted a new game called Worm Town, in which they found worms and made a tiny village out of found objects (plastic containers from the recycling bin, old chalk, rocks and sticks) for them in the dirt (see one of the residents above, along with a Harry photo bomb).

Ellie lost her second tooth on Sunday, rather dramatically, as we were walking into Costco. Later that night after a lot of discussion about how the tooth fairy gets the tooth, what she does with it, why you have to give your tooth to her (you don't, I assured her), Ellie announced that she did not, in fact want to give her tooth up. The reason? Ellie has "enough money."

These babies are doing their darnedest to drop their afternoon nap and I am doing my darnedest to prevent this from happening. I still put them in their cribs around 4 p.m. and usually there is a lot of chatter (Lucy: Harry! Haaaarrrry! Ellie! Ellllie!). In other news, did you see what those babies did to my beloved tree mural? It used to look...different. Sigh.

Here are my teenage girls watching a little TV after school. Honestly, doesn't Lucy look thirteen? Sometimes I see these two girls and how their relationship is growing and I'm not going to lie...I'm absolutely teary. Happy teary.

The babies are seeming more giant and kid-like every day. Dare I say they are listening a little better and are slightly able to be reasoned with (emphasis on slightly--and don't get too excited, they still take great glee in ganging up on me by climbing onto the kitchen table at precisely the moment I'm trying to cook dinner).

Evidence of said giantness: One little girl thinks she is too big for the high chair and prefers dining at the table. Ai Yai Yai. Mommy prefers the security ~~confinement~~ of the high chair, thankyouverymuch.

When in doubt? Wear a big hat.

Stairs: Check

2013-04-01T12:57:00.000-07:00

In other news, it's confirmed: Lucy likes chocolate. (You'll notice she was also offered berries but opted for the chocolate cookie. Good girl).

There I was, yesterday afternoon, mindlessly washing dishes. There were Leo and Ellie, playing Legos in Leo's room. There were Harry and Lucy, wait...where were Harry and Lucy?

I don't know what made me stop and think, in bright flashing lights: "BABY GATE," but I'm here to tell you that mother's intuition is alive and well because "BABY GATE" practically screamed in my head at just the right moment and dash I did.

Yes, I forgot to resecure the baby gate after the twins got up from their morning nap. And so there was Harry and Lucy, the co-conspirators at the top of the stairs, giggling at me in tandem and giddy, visibly bursting with pride (tiny puffed shoulders and grins, oh the grins!) for what they'd accomplished. It seemed like they'd been just waiting to be discovered.

I suppose one could argue that mother's intuition would have had me remember the neglected baby gate before they reached the top, but that would have robbed them of quite the little (thankfully, benign) experience and us of a great family tale to be recalled for years to come.

And in case there was any question? Those two can definitely get up those stairs all by themselves (coming down is a work in progress but thankfully they didn't try that yesterday). Ahem.

In other, other news: Happy twenty-two months, guys! You exhaust me and complete me. How is that even possible?

Spring Breakers

2013-03-29T12:10:00.000-07:00

Leo introduces Harry to the Best Movie Ever (in Leo's mind).

Last night, after the babies were in bed and the big kids were pajamaed and drawing idyllically at the kitchen table, it dawned on me:

The kids start spring break tomorrow. No school. I don't have to make school lunches for ten days.

Let me repeat that: I DONT HAVE TO MAKE SCHOOL LUNCHES FOR THE NEXT TEN DAYS.

Now that's what I call spring break! My friend Cate says she thinks there's an episode of "Girls Gone Wild" that has to do with moms not making lunches and I'd believe it, because while it doesn't take me that long to do it at night, it's the knowing that my evening is that freed up. I can never truly relax when I have that monkey of Must Pack Lunches on my back. But with no lunches? Once Ellie is in bed (Erin usually puts Leo to bed), I'm a free woman! I can...oh I don't know...throw in a load of laundry! Organize a closet! Or watch ~~"Smash"~~ bad television, play Words With Friends and drink wine. You know, just hypothetically speaking.

The reason for the packed lunch respite is this the first year in the history of, ever that the kids haven't been in daycare during a school break. For the last few years, Ellie's preschool stayed open year round and ran a camp for school age kids during school holidays, which Leo always attended. Before that, Leo and Ellie were both in daycare.

I wish I could be home with the kids every day (well maybe not every day all day, ahem). But we're cobbling together some fun(ish) plans. Next week I'm bringing Ellie and Leo to work with me on separate days and I'll take a day off here and there where I can. There were some long faces and tears when I left this morning, but we rallied. And I guess at least Ellie recovered, because when I called to check on everyone at lunch Ellie asked me, "Can we, um, not be talking on the phone?"

Alrighty then.

Spring Break means playing outside in your pajamas on the first day that really "felt" like spring. In other news, I think it might be time for Ellie to get a real bike.

It's amazing how much fun can be had before 9 a.m.

They have the entire driveway and yet, here they sit, tush to tush.

Equal

2013-03-27T12:21:00.000-07:00

May 24, 2011. Leo was our ring bearer, Ellie our flower girl.

Erin and I had a commitment ceremony (we called it a wedding and always will) on April 29, 2001, in Brooklyn, New York. On May 24, 2011 we had a civil union in the great state of New Jersey (and no, I didn't just have a big burrito for lunch, the twins were born a week after this picture, taken outside the courthouse, was snapped).

I always knew I didn't need a piece of paper to be considered married. But equal rights sure would be nice.

The "Everything" Store

2013-03-25T13:29:00.001-07:00

There was a time when Sunday mornings meant one thing: Thrift Store.

It's hard to even conceptualize a time in my life when I could wake up when I wanted to (!), start my day with a run and a leisurely cup of coffee, and have no one but myself to worry about. But once upon a time, that was true. I'd cruise out to 82nd avenue where a few of the best thrift stores in Portland, Oregon were, or if I was feeling especially adventurous, 162nd Avenue. Sundays, after all, meant everything was an extra 25 percent off, to say nothing of whichever color tag they discounted that day.

I love SO many things about thrifting. I love the challenge, I love the element of surprise--what will I find today? I love the aspect of nostalgia, of coming across little things that remind me of my childhood or people who have come and gone from my life.

Every once in a while I still get the itch to go "thrifting." It's complicated because it's not the kind of thing you can rush, and the only decent thrift store I've found relatively nearby is still a good twenty minutes away. Our weekend errands are not usually what I would call "leisurely" and they almost always entail dragging a kid (or four) along on. I brought Leo and Ellie to a thrift store a few years ago and it was a confirmed disaster--we spent way too much time looking at broken and in some cases altogether scary looking toys. Neither one of them would stay in the same place and they were touching everything.

But it dawned on me that at 5 1/2, it might be time to try again with Ellie (Leo would probably be fine now too but we've been trying to give them plenty of time apart on the weekends whenever possible as we've been deep into Def con Level Nine with the sibling rivalry lately, not sure why).

So last Sunday, Ellie and I set out to Goodwill in Springfield, New Jersey.

"What kind of a store is it?" Ellie asked me from the back of the mini van.

"Well, it's kind of...an everything store!" I replied, knowing the tone in which I delivered this information was key. "Imagine a store where you can find almost anything, and you never know what you're going to get. It's sort of like...a treasure hunt!"

Ellie's eyes grew wide. "Are there toys?"

"Yes," I answered weakly.

When we arrived at Goodwill I appeased Ellie by going straight to the toy section. Luckily she was unimpressed and agreeably moved onto the clothes. She immediately began scanning the racks for me, asking me what size I was. Bless her heart, she held up one hideous skirt after the next, asking me if this one or that one was "fashiony enough?" You have to give her credit for trying.

In the end, she was the best thrift store shopping buddy I could have asked for. She was patient and kind and complimentary, albeit perhaps a bit too enthusiastic (everything I held up to myself in the mirror she pronounced "Oh Mommy that's SO pretty on you!").

And I think there was something special about sharing this little pastime from, well, my past, with one of my children. At some level, I feel like when I shop at thrift stores (OK, stop snickering) I reconnect at some level with the "Old Me," the one who had lots of outside interests and plenty of time to actually indulge myself in them. In the end, I wound up buying something for literally everyone in the house but myself (I'm not complaining, sometimes that's just how it goes when "thrifting" and you just have to be very zen about it).

But I think you'll agree that Ellie garnered the best "score."

Because one picture of this gorgeous little beauty (the dress!) just won't suffice. With that second shot, I was trying to get a better view of the flower appliqué. Instead you get blurry Harry and some bonus homemade cardboard glasses/goggles.

I can't be sure of the date but I'm guessing from the look of it 1970s? I need to get a good look at the

label (Saks Fifth Avenue) and do some serious Googling.

Red is hands down my favorite color (especially on my little girls!) but it took me a while to figure out what I loved so much about this dress.

Of course! It's almost exactly like the dress worn in "Annie."

It made me extra happy that Ellie was so excited to actually wear this dress. I think she latched on to the fact that it's red and she knows that's my favorite. Lately, whenever we're in a store she'll point out the red items to me. But several times in the past I've bought things for her and brought them home, only to be met with a look of disappointment or disinterested shrug (I'm hoping that was a snippy four-year old phase--almost six years old is, dare I say...quite entertaining, she's morphing into quite a little considerate companion these days).

And this morning she practically skipped to school (the red cowboy boots were her idea) wondering aloud, "I wonder what Miss M. will think of my dress?"

Yesterday as we set off on a walk to the park she noticed a flyer on the ground by our driveway, it was a notice saying that a Goodwill truck would be in our area picking up donating items.

"Look, Mommy!" she said pointing to the Goodwill logo, "It's the everything store! When can we go back there?"

Folks, my parenting work is done.

As It Should Be

2013-03-22T12:00:00.001-07:00

It's so rare that I get time with just the babies. When the big kids are at school, I'm at work.

And then I come home and it's instantly four against one. The "Mommy! Show" begins: as in "Mommy can I have cheese crackers? Mommy will you play ball with me? Mommy will you draw fairies me?" And that's just from the two out of four who can speak in complete sentences.

When it's big kids + babies, much of my time is spent doing damage control. Lucy and Harry have officially entered the stage of wanting to do exactly what their big brother and sister do (Newsflash Lucy: You are not, I repeat NOT ready to climb the ladder (see above) to the outdoor playhouse, sheesh).

These babies and their love of chair standing will be the end of me, I'm telling you.

And when I'm not trying to keep Harry from standing on Leo's train table (no, Leo doesn't stand on that table but Harry, well, let's say he really gets into playing trains), then I'm monitoring Lucy as she caps and uncaps everysinglepen in the marker bin, all while balancing on a chair at the kitchen table (next to her big sister Ellie, the master fairy artist/princess colorer).

Then there's the ever important detail of making sure the comforter-on-Leo's bed-turned-parachute-game doesn't dissolve into something requiring a visit to the ER.

I like to think (I hope!) that every one's needs are met at more than just the minimum. But I will be honest. Sometimes the din of constant demands becomes too much. I just want to stop. I am the proverbial only child that wants quiet and order and our house is...neither quiet nor terribly orderly (I try my darnedest though, I do!).

"I don't feel like I've been able to get to know these babies the way I got to know Leo and Ellie by this age," I wrote in an email to a friend (also a mom to twins) when the babies were about ten months old. I had just returned to work after an extended maternity leave and was feeling completely out of sorts. "Sometimes I look at them and I still can't believe they're here! And that there are TWO of them! Do you think it's because there are two of them or because they're the third and fourth and there's just so much going on?"

My friend replied that it was probably a combination of things but probably more a virtue of the fact that I now I had four children. Over time, she thought, I'd feel "closer" to the babies, especially as their little personalities began to emerge.

Fortunately, my friend was right. And those little personalities? Have become big ones.

Lucy adores her big brother and sister, walks from room to room looking for them when they're at school. "Hi! Hi Leo! Hi! Hi! Hi Ellie," she chirps and waves, when her older siblings emerge from the basement playroom. Harry meanwhile, pounds on Leo's door whenever it's closed, so desperate is he to play with not just the train table, but his big brother (he is, after all, the one with all the cool action figures).

Earlier this week our nanny was sick. With a quick 6:45 a.m. phone call from her, my day shifted gears. There would be no commute into the city, no need for the skirt and sweater I'd set out the night before. I would stay home. With just the babies.

First Leo left, then we dropped Ellie at school. And for a few hours, there was relative quiet. (Well, as quiet as things can be with twin toddlers).

Of course Lucy spent much of her day going from room to room and calling, "Ellie? Leo?"

As I folded laundry, she stood by me and named each item of clothing by who it belonged to. "Ellie!" she cheered, when she saw Ellie's well-worn light blue kitty cat nightgown. "Leo!" she announced confidently, at the sight of Leo's beloved Angry Birds t-shirt.

I will give these ~~babies~~ toddlers baths in the sink for as long as I am able (we save actual bath tub baths for the weekends when we have time to throw the whole lot of 'em in the tub).

Like clockwork: sweet potatoes at lunch = post lunch bath.

Harry is now moonlighting as an eyelash model. Inquire within.

It never ceases to amaze me how quickly the days at home go by. Breakfast, morning nap, play, lunch, play, l~~aundry~~, and before I knew it, it was time to get Ellie at her dance class. At 4:00 I zipped and buttoned babies into fleece and coats and into the stroller.

In the blinding, late afternoon sun, we waited for Leo's bus to chug down the street. When he hopped off, we made our way down the avenue, toward Ellie's school. It was a perfectly cold wintry spring day, with the final vestiges of last Friday's little snow storm still piled up high enough that I had to push the stroller on the street in some places.

When we reached the school, Ellie, expecting our nanny, screamed happily (as only five year old girls can) when she saw us.

And just like that, two became four, once again.

As it should be.

This is 40

2013-03-19T09:15:00.000-07:00

A little over a week ago, I turned 40. I haven't had much time to really think about it. You're only as old as you feel, age is just a number, blah blah blah blah.

Of course I'm late on this post. Life, these days, wouldn't have it any other way.

This was the scene when I returned home from work on the evening of my birthday. Our babysitter took these pictures. Erin was away on business, so the celebration was simple: vanilla ice cream for the kids that I picked up on the way home. Erin sent me those flowers, half of a flower shop. Amazing.

I hyperventilate a little, to think that my life could be more than half over.

And it's more than a little weird to now only be nine years younger than my mother ever was.

I don't have a lot of profound things to say about being forty years old (It's only been twelve days! Give me a minute!). But I figured for posterity, I would record, in no particular order, a few things I have learned about life and myself, at this milestone:

1. When I get the chance to sit, I take it. I have four kids. I'm tired.

2. I'm finally not self-conscious about eating. During the week it's usually the only time I get to sit down and finish a meal (or a thought, for that matter). I usually eat my lunch at my desk and I used to shove my food aside when people came into my office. Not anymore. When I get the chance to eat, I take it (see #1).

3. I really like the way my finger nails look painted. It's hard to maintain (I don't) but fun to try.

4. Pick your battles. Really. I read something not long ago that I loved:
Before you speak, THINK:
T - is it true?
h - is it helpful?
i - is it inspiring?
n - is it necessary?
k- is it kind?
(Again, I make no claim to be perfect in this department, it's a definite work in progress).

5. Forgive people. Give them the benefit of the doubt. I struggle with this every day (and believe me, I do not always succeed) but I really try. I can always do better.

6. Smile. You never know when another person really needs to see a happy face. And if you're not feeling so good yourself? The whole "Fake it (in this case, happiness) until you make it?" It often works. Not always, but often. Hey, it's worth a shot.

7. Trust that things have a way of working out. This is another tough one for me, but one I have really improved upon. There was a time, I'd say, from my early twenties to mid-thirties, that I could have probably powered a small town with the amount of energy I expelled, worrying. I have come to realize that although worrying is inevitable, it will not change the outcome. And sometimes, you have to go through the bad (and I do mean the bad) to get to the good.

8. Focus on the things you are grateful for. There is always something to be disappointed about, there is always something to nit pick. But there are always, always things to be grateful for.

9. Expect less. That way, whatever you get? You can just consider it a bonus.

10. Never underestimate the power of a good cry. It's a cure for (almost) anything.

11. Never underestimate the power of laughter. It's a cure for (almost) anything.

12. Never underestimate the power of a good night's sleep. This can actually cure anything. (Or so I'm told).

13. Things almost always look better in the morning.

14. Wine, chocolate and coffee also help. Bread and cheese are good too and should be on hand, whenever possible.

15. This too shall pass (probably my most favorite parenting mantra of all time but it can really apply to every aspect of life): Whether it's a sleepless night with a sick baby or a fight with a loved one, nothing is permanent; everything is always changing and evolving. This is both wonderful and absolutely, positively devastating, depending on what you are referring to.

Four days after I turned forty, Erin blessedly returned home (with pastries! All the way from London! Yippee!). And we celebrated again (after all, she turned forty too).

Because in this life? You just can't celebrate too much.

By Any Other Name

2013-03-04T12:34:00.001-08:00

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

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

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

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

Mommy?

Mommy!

Mommy!?

Mommy?!

I took a deep breath.

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

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

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

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

Of course, I laughed. How could I not?

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

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

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

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

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

Love Note

2013-02-27T13:05:00.000-08:00

Leo's, to Lucy:

Weekend Update

2013-02-25T11:42:00.001-08:00

For some reason, this was the first weekend in recent memory that I haven't collapsed into bed on Sunday night and felt like I had been hit by a truck. A truck driven by four, small people.

I laughed a lot. I mean, we always laugh a lot in our house. How could we not? But this weekend I seemed to more than usual. Was it Ellie's calls of: "Last one upstairs gets a rotten egg?" or was it Lucy, padding around the house and singing (in quite a good tune, I might add) Barney's "I Love You" song? Over. And over. And over.

Anyway I am not questioning the laughter. Laughter is good, since I also spent an inordinate amount of time keeping these people (the smaller two, obviously) from falling headfirst off chairs.

Speaking of laughing...

...Harry, at his first haircut was...decidedly not doing so.

Pre-haircut, big brother Leo (who knows a thing or two about haircut trauma) was clearly concerned for his little Hair-Bear.

Ahh. Much better. And I didn't even cry! There is something about official "first" haircuts that always makes little boys look so transformed, so "old" (where's my bay-beeeeee?!) yet this time, I just thought Harry looked perfect. And clean. Did I mention this is the boy who likes to rub oatmeal/pasta/yogurt/anything he can eat, into the back of his hair? This new do' should make life a bit tidier.

At least, in theory.

On Sunday we went out to brunch with the gang. I'm always struck by the leaps the babies make in just a month. Most times, brunch with all four is akin to dining with four escaped convicts, but for some reason, yesterday was different. Of course it was still anything but relaxing, but I always feel very accomplished when we do anything that involves leaving the house for a few hours.

Lucy at brunch was a character. Are you familiar with Bread and Jam for Frances?

"He took a bite of sandwich, a bite of egg and a drink of milk. Then he went around again. Albert made the sandwich, the egg and the milk, come out even."

This is what she reminded me of. There was Lucy, sipping her water (cup with a straw), taking tiny, delicate bites of her biscuit and finally, pinching miniature finger-fuls of scrambled eggs.

Now if I can just keep everyone upright in a chair, we'll be good.

Stop Making Sense

2013-02-22T10:23:00.000-08:00

It all started with Hurricane Sandy.

Surveying the damage across the street from our house, October, 2012.

Two weeks after it blew through our region and darkened our home for ten long, cold days, I was driving the kids to swim class and we passed a cavalry of electric company trucks. I burst into tears. Our power was back (it had been restored for a glorious three whole days!) but seeing that army of trucks was a stark reminder, as were the massive overturned trees that could be seen, well, everywhere. People were still suffering. Things were far from normal.

Then came Newtown.

I still find myself tearing up, more often and unexpectedly. I still think about Sandy Hook, every single day when I take Ellie to school. Amidst the bedlam and chaos of elementary school children, weighed down by backpacks and winter coats and hats, shrieking and giggling and hugging and wrestling--life and death feels close.

Ellie and my bedtime ritual used to include me reading her a book, rubbing her back for a few minutes, tucking her in and saying goodnight. Since December 14, I have stayed with her until her breathing slows and deepens, until she starts to snore adorably (as only those under age ten can make snoring adorable). Staying with her until sleep comes for what she calls our "Snuggle Time," it seems like the least I can do.

I still cannot wrap my brain around what happened at Sandy Hook. It is the epitome of unthinkable. How can any of us begin to grasp it? It simply does not compute, still does not seem possible. Yes, we hug our children tighter and we sign petitions and we give money. What else can we do?

Finally, less than a month ago, half a dozen of my co-workers lost their jobs (and hundreds more, within the company). Friends and esteemed colleagues. Here one day, gone the next. Empty boxes sat outside offices, poised to be packed. Name plates abruptly came down and now hang blank. This was another kind of "does not compute" but still a very real one, to look around at our morning meeting and feel the void of so many faces. Then: Last week came the rumor that our company may be sold. Who knows what will happen if that transpires.

A hurricane. An elementary school massacre. Hundreds of people out of work. Hardships and horrors of different degrees of course, but tied together by one thread: You never know what's going to happen. You may think you have control, to some degree. But you really don't.

And so, I throw up my hands. Again.

I learned to throw up my hands for the first time, thirteen years ago when my mother died. And again, when Leo was born, when I was reminded once more of our powerlessness in all of this, in this gift of life we have. You try to prepare and you just can't, no matter how much you think you can. The best you can do is hang on and hope for the best, hope that things are going to work out the way they are supposed to. That's what I'm doing. What choice do I have?

But for the record? I don't like this out of control feeling. Does anyone? I may try to keep things "tidy," with my organizer boxes for everything from toys to linens to Tupperware tops, but in my heart I know that I can't really control much at all.

I just can't recall a time where I have felt that so many things were so very much out of my hands.

Looking Back and Laughing: Ears and Donuts Edition

2013-02-20T13:44:00.004-08:00

The big kids had the day off on Monday (President's Day). So of course, they played school. By the way, don't let this placid little scene fool you. These moments of calm are few and far between (but I do treasure them). Check out Lucy, who seems to think she's a first grader (shhh, don't tell her the truth).

Certain days, well, you just know they're going to be one of Those Days. One of those days you will look back on and laugh and also think: We made it through. And we managed to laugh a few times and? We even got donuts.

Lucy and Harry had been growing increasingly fussy in the last few days. I'd chalked it up to teething or maybe the cold that had trickled down from one big kid to the next had finally caught up to them. I'll be honest. I don't usually call out the big guns (pediatrician) unless sleep is interfered. By Sunday night, that's exactly what happened. By mid-morning Monday, Lucy and Harry were confirmed miserable human beings: beady, teary red eyes, arms outstretched for almost constant uppy (Lucy), while others stumbled around the house, aimless and frustrated, a slobbery, whiny tangle of drool and fingers (Harry).

I knew it was time to trek to the doctor. This week, among the many things I am grateful for are days off and pediatricians that remain open on legal holidays.

There are a few things in life I try to avoid at all costs and one of them is taking all four children to the doctor. Between the enormous double stroller and the other two kids, oh I get the pity stare. The waiting can be interminable, even with the endless loop of Disney Jr. But Monday? The Waiting Gods smiled upon us. I didn't even get a chance to sit down before the nurse called us into the biggest room they have (we needed it).

Lucy and Harry had immediate, confirmed ear infections (Yay!). I realize that might be a strange reaction but I'll be honest: I'm always a bit relieved when "off" behavior is confirmed and the trip to the doctor is not for nothing. As the doctor stood at the sink writing up the prescriptions, I started packing things up. That's when Leo climbed up on the exam table and demanded a work-up.

"Eh, he has a cold but I think he's fine," I said. "He's old and sturdy."

Everyone at the pediatrician's office loves Leo (whenever I go in without him, everyone asks for him) including this particular doctor. She set the prescription pad down and went to him, calmly listened to his chest and looked in his ears. It's been over a year since Leo magically shed his doctor fears. The fact that he placidly sits to get his ears inspected (volunteers to do it, even!) still almost takes my breath away, after all those years of tears and getting kicked in the shins trying to restrain him during a simple ENT visit. I am so proud of him and so very relieved for those difficult days to be behind us.

And then: "He actually has an ear infection too!" the doctor announced.

And the award for Number One Mom goes to...

Of course Ellie stepped up next (she checked out just fine). Hey, three out of four isn't a terrible ratio. I guess? (Although it is a new family record.)*

We gathered our coats and hats and gloves and various stuffed animals and walked toward home in the blinding sun of a bitterly cold February afternoon, the big kids scaling snow drifts leftover from last week's storm.

There's a Dunkin Donuts on the way and I knew there would be a request for it --I immediately said yes (lemons out of lemonade, anyone?), even though the twins were teetering precariously on the edge of nap time. Of course we couldn't make it through a simple donut stop without massive fussing (Hi tired, sick babies!). And since Leo's slow eating is the stuff that legends are made from (I knew he'd be there a while), Ellie and I took the babies outside and parked the stroller in front of the window where Leo was sitting. He finished up his strawberry frosted with sprinkles and we were on our way.

2/3 of the sickies, Monday morning.

*Edited to add that Ellie woke up this morning complaining of a sore ear so it looks like we are officially four for four. Yesssssssssssss!

Tricks

2013-02-13T10:14:00.001-08:00

Lucy has a new one.

Hey, what's that you got there? A zipper? Hmmmm...

Who me? Right. SO innocent. And Harry? He is the perfect victim, crying and whining and collapsing into a little whimpering puddle of SAVE ME! whenever Lucy strikes. Which is...often.

Yes, she's taken to attempting to disrobe her big brother. She had already started ~~trying to strangle him~~ pulling off his bibs (ouch!). Now, if the poor guy is in possession of a zipper (footy pajamas, coat), forget it.

She's also moved on to Houdini-like antics herself. Last night I went in to check on the twins before I went to bed and sure enough, she'd made good progress in unzipping her own sleep sack. It wasn't completely off but I did spot a little naked pink foot, so she'd clearly made some headway. This morning? There sat the sleepsack in a little pile. She's the first kid to successfully escape one of those sacks. She certainly won't keep a blanket on, so not sure what we're going to do about that.

Speaking of tricks, someone is very excited about his new keyboard. This is "his" musical instrument for the year and he gets to keep one at home to practice.

Leo's teacher emailed me in advance to let me know he'd be bringing it home and that it was just for Leo's use and to let me know if it was a problem having it in the house (does she know our crazy family, or what?). Leo was very good, waiting until after dinner to haul it out. He even performed a little "concert" for us. Note: I use the term concert loosely. Ahem.

He's especially a fan of the "outer space effect" (think 50's alien movie soundtrack) that his little keyboard features. He calls it "solar system" music.

He is very proud.

Snow Day(s)

2013-02-12T12:07:00.000-08:00

The snow started falling on Friday morning: tiny, fast flakes. By afternoon the roads were getting dicey and it was definitely sticking.

By evening it was a confirmed and beautiful blizzard. "Look Mommy!" Ellie squealed, "It's a Winter Wonderland!" (Earlier in the day I overheard Ellie asking Leo if he was "Gonna freak out if we lost power"--yes, she was full of zingers on Friday).

When it was all over (it snowed for about twenty-four hours straight), we had about sixteen inches.

Snow rendered the usually gutsy and outspoken Lucy quite...irritated. The funny thing is, this snowsuit is a hand-me-down from Ellie and I have pictures of her at around the same age with nearly the identical expression of disgust. Ah, sisters.

Harry was much more game about the snow business. Here he is attempting to stand and ending up...doing a sort of variation on splits. It was just impossible for these two to do much of anything.

Erin had the best idea of all, which was to take the twins (and the big kids) for a walk around the neighborhood since our backyard was just one big snow drift (probably three feet high in snow, in some places). By Saturday afternoon most of the sidewalks were shoveled and semi-clear and Harry and Lucy reveled in the novelty of walking the streets, free from the shackles of the stroller. There was enough snow that they were still hesitant and therefore weren't taking off at their usual breakneck speeds.

If you asked Lucy, I think she'd be most excited about the fact that the weekend snow storm forced me to seek out my boot stash and lo and behold I found this little pink pair (again, Ellie hand-me-down). Lucy is now seen, most often, clomping around the house, always with the one boot. She loves her boots.

It takes a lot of outerwear and organization to get all these people out the door and warm.

By Sunday, the roads were clear enough to head into the city where we took Harry and his big brown eyes (and the rest of the family) out for brunch.