Event Planning Continues

Our event planner has been at it again. Having already planned Halloween, her brothers' birthday parties, and Thanksgiving, she is now coordinating the family's Christmas Eve apparel.  But first, some background...

Two years ago I bought a green velvet dress for Ree on clearance after Christmas.  The dress is gorgeous, and I couldn't wait for her to wear it last year.  She kept saying she wouldn't wear it, but I thought she would come around.  Picture day came and Jeff and I were at the hospital with the boys, so my mom took her to have her to see the photographer.  She wouldn't put on the dress at home, but that was alright since it would've been crushed by her carseat.  Ree wore jeans and a t-shirt, and my mom took the dress with them.  Ree still wouldn't wear it.  My mom ended up having to buy Ree an outfit at the last second, and Ree is wearing a striped Christmas tee from the set and her jeans (she wouldn't put on the matching pants) in last year's Christmas picture.  For the record, she did wear her sparkly dress shoes.

As a result of last year's debacle, I decided to skip the dress drama this year, and I bought the kids matching pajamas to wear for their Christmas picture.  Ree was all excited about her jammies.  Hers are pink and green, "Ree two favorite colors!" 

We've learned to normally never mention outings before breakfast the day of the outing, just in case something happens, but I thankfully mentioned pictures to her this year as she was getting ready for bed the night before we went.  I'm glad I did, because that's when she informed me she was not going to wear her pajamas.  I tried discussing it, and realized that if I wanted a picture in which she was not scowling with tears running down her face, I better not make her wear the pajamas.  She told me she was going to wear her "beautiful Christmas dress."  I went to her closet and started to get out the green velvet dress which still fits, since she is the tiniest person in the world.  No, that wasn't it.  She wanted to wear her CHRISTMAS DRESS, MOMMY.  Then she pointed out the somewhat hokey red and white gingham Christmas dress she had picked out at a rummage sale earlier this fall.  It was only a dollar or two, and I bought it just in case we ended up going to church on Christmas since I didn't have much faith in her giving in and wearing the green dress this year.  I noticed that mercifully the gingham dress was already ironed.  But that brought up the dilemma, what the heck were the boys going to wear?  They would like kinda silly in pajamas with Ree wearing a nice dress.

I got lucky on that front too.  They had both just had a growth spurt, and sitting in their closet in the next size were matching white golf shirts.  Jeff had even done laundry that day, so they even both had clean jeans to wear.  Yes, jeans were the fanciest pants they owned at the time.

So we went for pictures with the kids sporting their last-minute, Ree-designed ensembles, and the pictures turned out wonderfully.  Major kudos to the photographer for managing to get a photo of all three kids looking at the camera and even 2 out of 3 smiling.  That's impressive!

But that left the Christmas pajamas.  I figured the kids might as well go ahead and wear them, and I mentioned to Ree that maybe they could all wear them on Christmas Eve so they would have them on for Christmas morning.  And an idea was born.  She decided that we ALL needed Christmas pajamas.  So I am now the proud owner of Frosty the Snowman pajamas.  She's even convinced Jeff to sleep in pajamas pants with reindeer on them.  The girl is good.

Then I checked the forecast over the weekend.  Thursday's low was supposed to be in the 50s.  The boys have fleece sleeper pajamas.  They would roast in them, especially Leon who would sleep naked if we let him.  I didn't know how to break the news to her.  But now it's supposed to be cool and rainy with a low of 44.  Still pretty warm for fleece pajamas, but it's as good as we're going to get.  So here's hoping for rain!

Of course the other wrench in the plans is that both boys are now running fevers.  Since they are both sick, I am hoping it's just viral and will run its course today.  They need to get well soon so we can have a happy, coordinated Christmas!

Shrinking

This post is not about the kiddos.  Sorry.  So if you want to hear about their latest hijinks, you can stop reading.  This is all about me, me, me.  And the fact that when I got on the scale this morning I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight.  Yippee!  Do I look remotely like I did before incubating not one, but two, itty-bitty people in my belly?  Um, no.  But I'm still thrilled.  After all, THE SCALE DOESN'T LIE!

So what do I have to thank for this turn of events?  I'd like to say healthy eating, regular exercise, and plenty of rest.  But that's so not the truth.  The last year has been spent eating every chance I get, which has pretty much been limited to at my desk at work.  I am pretty sure my coworkers are all but ready to report me to Overeaters Anonymous.  Or fear I may be bulimic.  Because since I started working here, I have pretty much consumed food nonstop as I went from being pregnant with twins to nursing them. And I am still back to my skinny jeans (those would be the ones purchased AFTER the first pregnancy.  And that are super low-rise.).

But therein lies the secret of my weight loss.  Nurse.  Twins.  That's it.  Have a high-needs baby attached at the breast for a year and try to take care of two babies at once.  Weight.  Gone.

You would think that this dramatic turn of events would make me want to be all healthy for the next couple of weeks.  To revel in it.  But no.  I won't exactly go on a weeklong holiday bender (oh, how I miss those days!  The drinking and carousing, the time with friends and family, the ability to recover from it all!), but I will be enjoying things.  My in-laws are coming in for Christmas which means fabulous cooking.  It also means enough adults in the house that I will have time to bake.  And I cannot wait to make cookies.  And eat them.  And now that Leon is actually somewhat sleeping (oops, didn't mean to slip in something about the kids!), I might actually be able to enjoy A BEER.

Sweat pants sound like a great idea for January.

25,000 Imported Italian Twinkle Lights

Ree is generally not that materialistic.  A few weeks ago we went browsing through the toy section at Walmart so she could point out what she wanted Santa to bring her.  Instead of greedily wanting everything in the store, my very practical daughter went through and made a list of things she didn't need.  "Don't need Play-Doh.  Got Play-Doh.  Don't need Strawberry Shortcake.  Got Strawberry Shortcake."  And so it went.  She figured that she already had one of everything, so who needed more?  I love her!

But a funny thing happened on Sunday night.  She finally showed some normal three-year-old greed.  It was warm, so we took the kids for a walk after dinner to look at Christmas lights in the neighborhood.  We got to one house that was just COVERED in lights.  And they were set to music.  The kids were all transfixed.  I'm fairly certain Leon never blinked from the moment he spied the house until the stroller turned a corner and he could no longer see them no matter how hard he strained his neck.

On Saturday afternoon Ree had helped me put two strands of lights in our bushes and on our garage.  It wasn't much, but she thought they were great until she saw this house.  Ree looked at the decorated house and thought it was the best thing EVER.  Our two little strands of Christmas lights were sad and pathetic in comparison.  She wanted our house to look JUST LIKE THIS HOUSE.  I gently explained that it took years to get that many Christmas lights (and an inflatable carousel), and that we couldn't just get them all at once.  She said, yes, we could get them all at once.  She added that we just needed to go to Target or Walmart.  And she wanted to go right then.

She truly wants so little, that it's hard to tell her no.  So perhaps this weekend she and I will go shopping for a few more Christmas lights.

A five-minute recap of the past two weeks:

Ree is no longer taking naps.  We tried to give her quiet time each afternoon where she laid on her bed and read books.  Unfortunately, she kept falling asleep and waking up ANGRY.  It would take us 30-45 minutes to calm her back down.  So that plan went out the window.  So now she is up all afternoon just when the boys were getting back to napping on the same schedule!

Leon is now sleeping in his room in his own crib all the time.  This doesn't mean he is actually sleeping through the night, although he did do really well over the weekend.  This also means our bedroom is now baby furniture free!  (The poor garage, however, is another story...)

I wouldn't have pegged him as the chatty one, but Michael now knows 9 different words that I can think of.  His favorite word is definitely "dog" followed closely by "book."  Unlike most kids who truncate words, Michael overenunciates, so when he sees Pru or Max he exclaims, "Dah-Guh!"  Jeff and I still laugh a little every time. 

I'm not quite sure why, but strangers are obsessed with asking us if the boys can walk.  And, no, they can't.  (Well, Leon can, and has taken steps on a few occassions, but he just doesn't know it yet.)  And we are okay with them not walking yet.  So is there doctor whom we saw for their one-year check up on Friday.  Michael is still an inch taller than Leon, but Leon has almost caught up weight wise.  Michael weighed 19.1 pounds, and Leon weighed 18.8 pounds.  However, Michael still looks massively heavier than Leon since Leon apparently carries all his weight in his head.  (It's still 3-4 cm bigger than Michael's.)  Both boys dutifully crawled and climbed and played for the doctor's benefit, with Michael also excitedly telling the doctor "dog" repeatedly when we discussed his vocabulary.  All was well!

Destructo

Although he's actually been somewhat better for the past couple of weeks, throughout the fall Leon has proven to be a destructo, which is our term for those kids who seem to dismantle or otherwise blow up anything that comes within 15 feet of them.

In the course of just a couple weeks, Leon managed to remove a trumpet that was firmly attached to a Fisher-Price music table, a drawer that was fixed on a LeapFrog table, and the wheel of a Tonka trunk.  His disassembly extended beyond mere toys, though.  He also removed the rubber end from all of the door stoppers in the house and took off the caps that covered the bolts on both our toilets.  He managed to do the majority of this while he had the flu and with a big smile on his face.  He is so excited when he figures out how things work by taking them apart.

We are thinking he can eventually leverage this into some sort of interesting career.  He can dismantle bombs or, well, we can't think of many other careers that only involve taking things apart and not fixing them and putting them back together, but we're sure they are out there.  For now, however, we are resigned to know that some day we will look out on the driveway and see the engine sitting next to the car.  And we know that the only explanation will be, "Leon was playing outside," and we will see Leon sitting nearby smiling proudly at his accomplishment.

Who Turned Out the Lights?

During the day, if things get rough, we take the boys outside.  We refer to it as resetting them, and it almost always works.  They love being outside.  They also love going on adventures in the car.  Basically, they love anywhere that's not inside our house.

In the past week, we've discovered that they feel differently about being out at night.  Unintentionally, we managed to never take them out after dark until last Wednesday.  (We run errands during the day, and since the evenings were especially questionable before the boys started eating solids, if we went out to eat, we went out for lunch.)  Since then, they have made many trips in the evening.  We went out to dinner with our Thanksgiving guests, and since the brakes on my car went out on the way to work Monday morning (yippee!), they've been picking me up from work each evening while my car is in the shop.  And throughout each trip, they have cried.  A lot.  Especially Michael.  By tonight, Leon did much better, but Michael still screamed.

We are not sure what this about.  It may just be that things are different, and Michael is not one to embrace change.  The only good news is that as soon as he gets home, he instantly stops crying.  He's learned to "reset" by being inside our house.  I'm thinking that's a good thing.

D-O-Gs

There are two teachers in Ree's preschool class.  Last week they were doing some planning while the students were there, and thought they would be sneaky by spelling things out.  (What parent or teacher doesn't resort to this trick occasionally?)  Among other things, they mentioned a D-O-G.  Ree immediately chimed in, "That spells 'dog.'  What dog?  Where's the dog?  Why did you say dog?"  Of course by then the other kids in the class had picked up on it, and everyone was very interested in the dog. 

The teachers just groaned.  And couldn't wait to tell me about it.

Happy Birthday

Leon and Michael are 1.  We made it a whole year!  Leon is helping me write this (instead of taking a nap), so I will keep it brief for now.  We are having a lunchtime party for our little family today.  We kept it so healthy for Ree's first birthday.  It is so different this time around.  Pizza and cake and ice cream, at least for the parents and big sis.  Zucchini and sweet potatoes for the boys because those are their favorites.  They get pumpkin cupcakes too!  We are having another party on Friday with the extended family.  It is good to be little and loved!

Better Than Ice Cream

The last two weekends (and the days in between) have been nuts.  Lots of crazy, good developments with the kids.  And Round Two of illness.  (I heart preschool!)  More details will be coming one of these days.  Really.  It could happen...hey, at least you know I have good intentions!

I've started running away on Sundays, at least for a little bit, to escape the madness.  A week ago I ran away to the beach.  I only had a 45 minute window to escape, and the drive takes almost 15 minutes each way, so I only had about 15 minutes actually on the beach.  But it was so worth it because I went ALL BY MYSELF.  The weather was in the 70s and just fabulous.  I drove with all the windows down and sunroof open listening to my music, yes, MY music, really loudly.  It was heavenly.  The beach was nice too!

Last night I took Ree with me, and we ran away to Boombalatti's, a local ice cream shop that makes all of their ice cream in house daily.  It is fabulous ice cream.  I'm sure it's because people just don't go out for ice cream on a regular basis in November in Ohio, but I'm not used to seasonal ice cream flavors in the fall.  Graeter's makes pumpkin ice cream, but that's about it.  Here it is a whole different story.  There was an entire case devoted to autumnal ice cream.  There was cranberry apple cider sorbet, and a whole host of flavors made with dried fruits and nuts.  I ended up getting the pumpkin ice cream, which was at least as good as Graeter's, in case you were curious.  Ree picked the cranberry walnut coconut.  She was so excited about it.  She didn't even want to look at the vanilla with sprinkles that was right next to it.  Her order got a raised eyebrow from the college-aged guy working behind the counter.  As we were leaving, he asked if she liked it.  I informed him that she ate every last bite.  My girl is not a plain Jane!

It's a Put On

One of the great things about Wilmington is that independent radio is still alive and kicking.  We celebrate this by keeping a radio on most of the time when we are at home.  In particular, we have a great classic rock station that we have been listening to ever since we moved here.

Lately Pearl Jam and STP have been in heavy roatation, and while I like hearing them, and they are a million times better than some of the 70s crap that gets played, it's still a bit disturbing to realize that the music that came out when I was in high school is now classic rock.

Ree definitely has her favorite songs, and it's always amusing (and a bit scary) when we hear her playing in her room singing Pink Floyd or Queen.  Her favorite classic rock song of all time, though, has to be Eminence Front by The Who.  She LOVES it.  Back when she was barely talking, we would still catch her singing along, "It's a put on!"  If she were on Name That Tune, she could name Eminence Front in one note.

It came on the radio the other day, and she got really excited.  Jeff was in the sunroom and she came running in, all wide-eyed and excited and shouted, "Daddy, it's my JAM!"

Daylight Wasting Time

I think Daylight Savings Time is nothing more than an evil plot against parents.  Seriously!  All the farming these days is done by big corporations.  They have high tech equipment and lights and crews of thousands.  They don't need an extra hour.  And energy savings?  Please.  Time change is a plot against parents.  Just think about it.

In the spring you lose an hour.  Yes, as though the day wasn't short enough already for parents, there is a day that is cut down to 23 hours.  Boo!  And they say that you'll get that hour back in the fall, but they don't say what that hour will look like.

So after surviving the Halloween madness on Saturday, Jeff and I were all excited for our extra hour on Sunday.  We knew better than to think we would actually get an extra hour of sleep (that's a good one!) but we thought we would at least have an extra hour to get things done.

Um, no.

Both boys were up by 5:45, and they were screaming because they were STARVING.  They had been eating breakfast between 7:30 and 8:00, so I'm not sure exactly why they wanted to get up quite so early, but they did.  I think it was our punishment for putting them to bed late on Saturday night.  (No, this does not make sense, but have you ever tried to rationalize with 11-month-olds?  Their responses, at best, tend to be along the lines of "MAMAMAMAMAMA" or zerberts.  At worst they cry.  A lot.  And they just don't grasp the concept that staying up late should be complemented by sleeping in.)

We should've known then that the day was going to be shot, but silly us, we still had hope.  The day did not get better.  The boys spent most of the day crying because Something Wasn't Right.  They were briefly placated when I took them to Kohl's and Dollar General with me, but the happiness ended abruptly when we returned home.  So you know what we did with our "extra" hour that was actually rudely stolen from us back in the spring?  We spent it holding crying babies.  Yay for cuddles!  Babies are so sweet! :)

Since Sunday Leon and Michael have continued to get up between 5:00 and 5:30 each morning.  Oh, and Leon hasn't been wanting to stay asleep, so he's been checking in every 30-45 minutes until midnight.  And twice during the night after that.  And since they are not sleeping at night, they have also decided to cut their daytime naps down from 2 hours to 45 minutes.  Yawn.

The only thing saving me is that I know I am not alone.  I have yet to talk to a parent with a child under the age of 5 who isn't currently in sleep deprivation hell.  Daylight Savings Time, you are the most evil plot against parents...EVER.

Song Birds

Someone in our house is always singing. People may mock my horrific singing voice, but it somehow soothes the kids, strange creatures that they are. While traveling last summer, we discovered that when all else fails, I need to sing. We survived an otherwise tortuous drive through southeastern Ohio back roads thanks to my skills at concocting a 20+ minute medley of children's songs. R took note, and when we got home from vacation, any time both boys started crying she would nag, "Mom, you need to sing."

R unfortunately inherited both my singing voice and my incessant need to sing. She is always belting out some song loudly and off-key. After spending months admonishing Jeff and me when we changed the lyrics to songs, she has started doing the same thing. It is hilarious to hear what she comes up with.

She is not the only singing child. We discovered last weekend that M is a singer too. His favorite song is "Itsy, Bitsy Spider" and last weekend we got out a toy that played it along with two other songs. As inevitably happens when we get out a new toy, L and R spent the first half hour fighting over it. Once they had battled to boredom and moved on, M moved in. He had been studying them, and he didn't even waste time playing the other songs. He sat down, hit the button for "Itsy, Bitsy Spider," and started singing. And he did it over and over again until he realized I was watching. Then he was embarassed, picked up the first toy he could find, and stuck it in his mouth.

L is not there with the singing, but he excels at clapping. His favorite song is "If You're Happy and You Know It," and I sang it in a fit of desperation last Monday night when both boys were miserably sick and screaming. L reluctantly stopped screaming and started clapping along. However, while clapping, he shook his head "no." It looked like he was thinking, "I will clap, because that is what I am supposed to do, but I am not happy about it!"

Ch-ch-ch-changes

So somehow over the past week, even with all the drama of being sick, all three kids managed to grow up. (Yes, I'm sure it's actually been slowly happening, but I hadn't noticed, so you're going to get the more dramatic version.)

The biggest improvement of the week (of the year???) is that L is now sleeping in his own bed in his own room every night. I may jinx it by writing about it, but he hasn't slept in our bed or even in our room in 5 or 6 nights. We ended up having to let him cry it out. I hated it, but when they were sick we realized the boys don't bother each other with their crying. They will check on the other one, and then the non-crier will happily lay down to sleep while the other fusses. Jeff's theory is they actually use the crying to check on the other one, and the non-crier is somewhat comforted by the sound because it means his brother is there.

So last week I started tucking L in with his his blanket, his bear, and his brother (in the crib next to him). He did not like it. The worst was the third night in which he really realized what was going on and SCREAMED for 20 minutes, but by last night he gave up, and he hardly fussed. On the other hand, he did keep getting up all night last night to check on me, and he has been sleeping from 10:30 - 5:30 or just getting up once. Either way, we are finally making progress, and one of these days we'll get him tucked in without a screaming battle and get him to sleep through the night.

L is also desperately trying to walk. The only thing he lacks is confidence. He has been cruising the furniture like a mad man, and one of our favorite tricks is to sit on the couch with our legs out while he is cruising the couch. He gets so caught up in what he's doing, that he will cruise right down our legs. Eventually he realizes that he is in the middle of the living room rug. (Well, if it's Jeff's leg. If it's my leg, he's still pretty close to the couch.) At that point, he looks up and shoots us a dirty look, and then he hurls his body back at the couch. Yesterday, he briefly stood unsupported. He was busy busy standing and playing with the big castle we got for R's first birthday, and he let go so he could hold two things at once. As soon as he realized what he did, he plopped down, and he didn't try that again. As R would say, it was too scary!

L also learned to dance on Saturday. He is doing the typical baby-style dance in which he bends his knees and bounces up and down. It happened on Saturday night while we were watching Sesame Street clips on the computer, and he started dancing every time he heard a new song. Given that he has to hold on to something for support, he definitely looks like a little pole dancer shaking his booty.

The second biggest improvement of the year is that over the weekend R started using the potty ALL the time. No accident of any kind. Actually, the biggest improvement is that SHE started telling us when she needed to go. We didn't have to drag her to the bathroom every two hours and tell her she needed to try. I think she was as startled as we were by this change in events, because on Saturday it was with definite surprise that she climbed out of her "office" that she built behind the couch and told me she had to go as she ran for the bathroom.

While it's much less dramatic, I do have to brag on another R accomplishment. Since we are always discussing family and friends in Ohio and other far-off places, Jeff got R a puzzle of the United States in which each state is a puzzle piece. He got her the puzzle about 10 days ago, and she has been dutifully working on it each day. It's a framed puzzle on a board, and the outline of each piece is drawn on the board. Apparently, that's all she needs to help her, because on Friday Jeff discovered that she had done the entire puzzle by herself.

It kills me that when I have so much to say about one boy, there is not much to report about the other, but that's definitely the case right now. M is in a quiet phase, at least developmentally. But that's not to say he isn't learning. He has turned into our observer, and as a result, he is the first to actually learn how to follow directions. He doesn't like it, but when I tell him to sit down in the tub, he knows what to do. He also knows where to crawl if I tell him it's time to eat, to read stories, to get a clean diapie, or to take a bath. (With two you can't always cart the baby with you. They have to be self-reliant! Even at 11-months-old!) Over the weekend he figured out how to turn the pages of books. It started with just cloth books on Friday, but by last night he was flipping through board books. I caught him staring at a book filled with pictures of food with a puzzled look on his face. After some careful consideration, he realized the book was upside down and he turned it over. Given that a whole pizza looks about the same right side up or upside down, I was really impressed and called Jeff over. That's when M stuck the book in his mouth and started chewing on it.

My favorite M stunt right now is his turbo crawl. He'll be heading towards a forbidden zone - R's room or the dogs food dishes while they are eating (He loves to eat dog food. I'm still not letting go of the theory that he thinks he's a dog!) - and he'll realize that Jeff and I are in hot pursuit. So he will turn on turbo crawl, thinking he can outpace us. It hasn't worked yet, but he keeps trying, and it does make me laugh every time.

It's the Gift That Keeps on Giving

The weekends have been really stressful for me lately. There's not enough time to get caught up on chores, much less to have fun. I feel like I just get further behind with every passing weekend. The pile of unfolded laundry on the couch gets taller and the piles of unswept dog fur on the floor get larger. All I've been wanting is some time to get caught up. Not to get ahead, just to catch up a little. It didn't seem like having the laundry cleaned, folded, and put away and the floors swept, and least for a day, was too much to ask. I should've been careful what I wished for.

Last week R's preschool class was kind enough to give her the flu. Which she has subsequently shared with the whole family. She was miserably sick last Friday, but by Saturday afternoon she was feeling much better and had turned into a full-fledged cranky Becky demanding that we bow at her feet. On Sunday afternoon it was L's turn, and he too went through 24 hours of misery before bouncing back. I was up a lot with L on Sunday night (yes, even more than usual!), and Jeff ended up getting up for the day at 4:00 a.m. with M who wanted to know why everyone else was up.

I had a meeting at work on Monday morning, but I went home after it so I could help Jeff since he was exhausted and it was a struggle to take care of the other two while L wanted to be held all the time. It's probably a good thing I headed home, because M got sick Monday afternoon, and then we had two babies who wanted to be held constantly, plus a very jealous big sister.

Monday night was the worst of it. Both boys wanted to be held. By me. Daddy was worthless. After having them scream from 10:30 - 11:30 p.m., I finally got them both settled down with me on the living room floor. It turns out their big fans of late night TV and love Conan. They dozed off, and I was happy to be able to get some sleep. But then M woke up screaming. And I got him back to sleep. And then he woke up screaming again. It turns out that he woke up screaming about every 15 minutes for the next two hours. Finally, around 1:30, both boys passed out on the floor snuggled together holding hands (it was SO cute!) and slept for slightly longer stretches. They still woke up every 45 minutes to an hour, but that's a huge improvement over ever 10-20 minutes.

I didn't make it to work on Tuesday. But, thanks to being able to strap a baby into the sling at all times, I did get seven loads of laundry washed and the floors swept. I napped in the afternoon while the boys slept, so I didn't get the floors mopped, but I needed my rest. And I ended up mopping that evening anyway because it was Pru's turn to be sick. To be more precise, Pru was sick all over the dining room, living room, kitchen, and hall. (Dogs and humans don't actually share diseases, but the stress of our house may have driven her to eat something she shouldn't have. Or she was worn down from staying up all night with me and the boys playing Nurse Pru. Or she is the first dog to get sick from humans. Who knows.)

I actually went to work on Wednesday. Unfortunately I had a late afternoon sneezing attack that turned into severe aches after dinner and full-on flu by the wee hours of Thursday morning. So Thursday was my day to stay home sick. Since the kids and I had all had seasonal flu shots, I suspected we had H1N1, and that was pretty much confirmed by the bizarre symptoms I had. I went through all the usual flu symptoms - runny nose, aches, chills, and fever, but I went through them one at a time and I felt much, much better after 24 hours. (H1N1 is a much milder flu strain than seasonal flu.)

By Thursday night, Jeff had a sore throat and R had developed a massively runny nose. I don't know if R's sneezing is a lingering side effect of last week's illness (she has been sniffly all week) or if she caught a cold thanks to her weakened immune system. But either way, we aren't done being sick yet!

Meanwhile our TV, the wonderful, fabulous electronic babysitter that it is, died. Completely. It won't turn on. It's old, has been moved to eight different residences that I know of, has made multiple cross country trips, and has been trying to die since Labor Day Weekend, so this was inevitable. But the timing sucks. And, yes, we only had one TV. Last night I was alone with the kids and thought, no problem, I will just pop a DVD into the computer. Only it turns out our computer is so dang old it doesn't have a DVD player. Noooooo! After watching an episode of Max and Ruby on youtube which someone obviously recorded off their TV screen, I started looking around for higher quality, legal children's programming. I couldn't find anything other than 2 minute clips. Aaauggh.

But things will be better. And I will never again wish my house clean. Ever.

10 more days to Halloween, Halloween, Halloween

I am looking forward to Halloween. A lot. Last year our lives exploded on Halloween, the day I was admitted to the hospital with preterm labor, and they haven't settled down since then. Something tells me we will get our lives back this Halloween. (Please, Please, PLEASE let us get our lives back by Halloween!) Things may be crazy up until the 31st, and we may be carving the pumpkin and assembling Halloween costumes that afternoon, but I think we really will be okay. After all, we already have candy for trick-or-treaters which is clearly the most important part.

R is very into Halloween this year, especially when it comes to dressing up. She is wearing a pink, ballerina princess dress with Barbie on it.
She says she is going to be dressed as Sleeping Beauty (and has asked that we call her by her new nickname of "Sleeping Beauty")


and is going to be pretending to be Angelina Ballerina.


Alrighty then. I hope you can follow that because I'm a little lost, although there is a definite pink theme!

It is also very important to her that we ALL dress up for Halloween. All seven of us, including the dogs. Jeff is recycling a prisoner costume, and she is okay with him being "jail man." She spent a great deal of time pondering my costume and has decided that I am going to be a butterfly for Halloween. This is not a choice. So it looks like I need to get wings and antenna so I can dress up to take her trick-or-treating. She wanted the boys to be Hansel and Gretel, so we explained that Hansel and Gretel are actually a boy and a girl. She then pointed out that Bert and Ernie are dressed up as Hansel and Gretel in one of her books. So we told her that Bert was just pretending to be a girl. She said, "No, Bert IS a girl." Then she added that Ernie was too. She thought Ernie was pretending to be a boy. Those silly Muppets!

So once we got that cleared up, she decided that Pru and Max can be Hansel and Gretel. The boys, if we can get organized, are going to be Mario and Luigi from Super Mario Brothers since this may be the last year we can torture them with coordinated costumes. We haven't decided yet who gets the moustache! And if it turns out that I am too busy trying to locate butterfly wings and figure out how to turn our giant, furry dogs into German children of the 19th century, the boys can go as babies who are up past their bedtime. I guarantee they will be convincing!

Surprises

The boys are always surprising me.

They surprise me at how differently they can approach things. A couple of weeks ago, they were playing in the living room and I turned on the water in the bathtub. Bath time is a very exciting time in our house (!) so they both came crawling into the bathroom as quickly as they could. They reached the bathroom door at the same time. Then they spied the gigantic pile of stuffed animals that was separating them from the beloved bathtub. (You are probably wondering why there was a gigantic pile of stuffed animals on the bathroom floor. So was I. But I take these things in my stride these days.) M decided the best thing to do would be to clear a path, so he started throwing stuffed animals behind him, and he quickly made it to the tub. L managed to arrive at the tub at the same time, but he took an entirely different approach. He decided he was mightier than the stuffed animals, so our little tank went up and over the pile. (In a related incident, L was in the dining room and Pru, our 65 pound Border Collie/Lab mix was separating him from the living room. Rather than crawling AROUND Pru, L spent 10 minutes climbing up and over her. And she just laid there and let him do it. She takes a lot of abuse from the "puppies!")

They surprise me with what they can do. In the past few weeks, M has suddenly started "helping" me dress him. If he's on his changing table, he lifts his legs one at a time to put on his shorts and pants. (If he is on the floor, I still have to tackle him as he crawls away.) M has also started following commands. He gives kisses, high fives, and always comes when called to dinner. (Further proof he's a dog???) L's strength is always amazing. Last weekend I was sitting at the computer in the sunroom, and M was playing in the doorway between the sunroom and the living room. Suddenly, M came by pushing their LeapFrog musical table. Both M and I were startled because
1) The table does not have wheels and isn't designed to move
2) The table weighs about 6 pounds, which is a lot when you only weigh 17 or 18 pounds
3) L was walking and pushing it. Who knew he could walk???

They also surprise me with their needs. The Sleep Wars rage on (more about these soon) and in last night's battle, I put both boys in M's crib together. I did it mostly for L, because our little cuddle bug prefers to always be touching one of us when he's asleep. Both boys were crying, but M was the first to lay down, crawl over to his brother, and snuggle in right next to him. And L totally freaked out! HE didn't want someone touching him. Who knew????

Monkey Man

L and M are such different little people. They always have been. The differences were noticeable even when there were still in my belly, but it's still amusing to me when I see the differences pointed out clearly.

Jeff had soccer stuff all day Saturday, so I took the kids to the mall because they are little demons at home and little angels in public. (Seriously! I wish I could explain, but this has been the case since R was a baby.) We ate lunch at the food court and then I took the kids to the play area to run/crawl off some steam. M is such a flirt. He spent the whole time smiling and batting his eyelashes at two girls who were about 3 and 6. He kept trying to kiss the 3-year-old. They were both enchanted with him, but the couple of times they tried to do other things, he crawled after them and made sure they paid attention to him. He is way too much like his daddy!

Meanwhile L, our little monkey man, wanted nothing to do with people. (Jeff later reported that he actually cries when people smile at him at R's preschool.) At the play area he wanted to CLIMB! And that's what he did. On everything there. The boy has no fear. This is also the way he acts at home.

We never would've guessed it when they were newborns, but our monkey man is so much more physical than his brother. He is just going, going, going all the time. Although he was slower to develop gross motor skills, over the past couple of months he has surpassed his brother being the first to develop many physical skills. Although we somewhat feared that L might never do anything other than lay on his back and eating his toes, he was the first to sit unsupported, to really crawl (although M moved first with his crazy worming), to pull up, and to cruise furniture.

Monkey man mostly uses his new found locomotion to "explore" which translates into trouble making. Both boys are happiest when in the forbidden mecca of their big sis's room which is filled with all sorts of delightful shiny, princessy choking hazards. While M prefers to play with the dollhouse and eat all its furniture, accessories, and inhabitants, Monkey Man is partial to the Betty Crocker baking set. He has even figured out how to crawl under R's train table to get out the bin in the event that it is actually put away. One day, a couple of weeks ago, I caught the boys playing in there. Monkey Man must've realized he wasn't supposed to have it out, so as soon as I said his name, he chucked the baking set piece that was in his hand at his brother. M then dutifully picked up the plastic stick of butter and put in his mouth. Oh, I suppose the boys do have one thing in common. They both LOVE eating Barbie doll sized plastic doll shoes. I got to extract them from each of their mouths over the weekend.

Again, we never saw it coming, but L is just such a boy. When he is not crawling around and climbing, he is beating on things. His two favorite toys are the mallet that goes with their xylophone and an old fashioned style rattle. With both he alternates between chewing on them and beating on the floor. The only time he sits still is to beat on his drums. Over the weekend we pulled out R's talking ABC drum, and he loves the fact that it makes noise every time he hits it. I suppose to really mess with him we could permanently leave it on the Spanish setting.

Being the much older brother (!), he is the leader of the group. He is the first to try new toys or new experiences and he always jumps right in where M prefers to study things and learn about them first. L also thinks he is entitled to the best, and he is contantly stealing his brother's toys. Interestingly, he has yet to discover he can steal from his big sis, even when they are in the bathtub together. It probably helps that he worships her, and the feeling is mutual. Even if he was stealing her toys, she probably wouldn't complain, however, if M tried it, she would tattle in a heartbeat.

Like all truly boyish boys, L is SUCH a mama's boy. Anyone who has been around him knows he is still ticked that the doctor's cut his umbilical cord. He could be the poster child for attachment parenting. It's ashame he has a twin because he really doesn't like to share HIS mommy with that other baby. I know he thinks I'm cheating on him. For the past month or so, we've been letting him sleep with us for at least part of the night most nights, and that seems to make a big difference. By having that security at night he is actually sleeping some, and that frees him up to be a secure, crazy little monkey man during the day.

Becky

When I think about it objectively, R is a pretty amazing kid. In the last year she's had her entire world rocked, and she's come out mostly unscathed. She's survived me going on bed rest, having two new brothers in the hospital, having two new brothers at home, having one of those brothers back at the hospital, me going back to work, moving, and two long vacations.

Not only has she survived it, she’s mostly thrived, amazing us regularly. There was one day a couple of months ago where we sent her off to play with a sheet of alphabet stickers while we were busy with the boys. She came back with a sheet of colored paper on which she had used stickers to write her name, by herself, using both upper and lower case letters. We didn’t even know she knew lower case much less how to spell her name!

Another time last spring I was getting the boys ready to go to the beach and she was driving me nuts. To get her out of my hair, I told her to go pack her stuff. I told her she would need her swimsuit and an extra shirt and pair of shorts. I also told her to put books and things to do in her backpack so she could play while we were visiting with grown-up friends. I didn't expect her to comply. But she did. Not knowing where to put them, the swimsuit and clothes were piled together on her floor. Her backpack was crammed full of the other items. If only she could reach the faucet to refill her own sippy cup, she would’ve been ready to go.

And there is nothing like listening to R play. She has a vivid imagination, and it is always entertaining to hear the adventures of her stuffed animals, dollhouse family, and the menagerie of plastic characters that live in the bathtub. Lately she has taken to giving all the characters voices and nothing cracks me up like hearing her do male voices (well, aside from the voices of the mice in Cinderella which she can imitate disturbingly well). There was a night in the bathtub a couple of weeks ago in which Ariel (that’s the Little Mermaid to those of you not indoctrinated into the madness of Disney princesses) was fighting with her dad, played by a large plastic duck that was oozing a bit of black mold from his bill and looked like he had an unfortunate medical condition.

They had the following conversation:

Daddy Duck: (Somewhat chipper and in his deep, daddy voice) Ariel, time for bed!
Ariel: (In a girl voice even squeakier than her own) I’m not tired.
DD: I said it’s time for bed.
Ariel: But I’m not tired.
DD: (Growing impatient) You need to go to bed.
Ariel: But I don’t want to go to bed.
DD: (Angry) Go to bed.
Ariel: I don’t want to.
DD: GO TO BED!

And then Ariel stomped (splashed) off to bed.

It was pretty hilarious, especially since she has never fought us about going to bed or taking a nap. She occasionally sneaks a few (dozen) extra things on to her bed, but she cheerfully goes there.

These are the things I have to remind myself of, because often, she is not this much fun. It has only recently come to my attention that three-year-old girls can be a million, bajillion times worse than their two-year-old counterparts. They are conniving little demons cleverly disguised as Disney princesses with fake plastic tiaras on their heads. You think I'm joking, but I read it on the internet, so it must be true!*

Jeff and I have nicknamed this strange little alter ego Becky, and we never know when Becky will show up. We certainly weren’t expecting her last Friday morning.

I was working a half day from home on Friday, so Jeff suggested that we take a family trip to the aquarium on Friday morning. At breakfast, we told R of the plan. She was all excited and started naming the things she thought she would see at the aquarium. When we told her she probably wouldn’t see any mermaids, Becky emerged. Becky told us she would be watching videos when we got home. We told her maybe. Then she decided that we needed to do crafts RIGHT THEN. We told her no. She was not happy.

We had fun at the aquarium with just one minor breakdown. When we got done, we needed to stop and feed the boys before getting into the car. We headed to the museum café, and Jeff and I each grabbed a baby. Normally she is fine just hanging out with us or talking to us when we are feeding the babies, but this time Becky had other things on her mind. She ran around. She climbed on things. She played with the vending machine. She was an all-American brat. We finally resorted to bribery offering her a sno-cone if she just sat with us while we fed the boys. She sat. So then we got a blue sno-cone to share, and she was happy with the purchase. Then she threw a fit when we finished the sno-cone because she also wanted ice cream.

After we left, she battled us in the car because she wanted to pick where we ate lunch. Thankfully, it turned out she was just hungry, and she felt much better after consuming a platter of fried shrimp. (I did joke with Jeff that our kids are going to be so confused when we travel and the kids’ menus in other places don’t all have fish and shrimp.)

Things were actually okay when we got home, but Becky popped up again after dinner. At that point Jeff looked at her and asked if she was acting like a Becky. She looked at him confused, as we haven’t let her in on the nickname. Then she answered, “I’m not a Becky. I’m a girl.” And for the rest of the night, she was just a girl, and a sweet little one at that.

*It was recently discussed in Parents magazine and was referenced in this post at dooce.com. And just FYI, if you aren’t a Dooce fan, I think she is fabulous, but she is a little rough around the edges, so reader beware.

Pigpen

I actually, theoretically, have a few free minutes to write this morning while M is playing and everyone else is sleeping. Yet where to start? I need to be FAIR to all my kids. Hmm, perhaps it is time for an update on each kiddo. Since M was the first one up this morning (as he nearly always is), he gets to go first.

His current nickname is Pigpen. The child is ALWAYS dirty. This has a couple of causes. The first is that our floors are always dirty. We have two large, hairy dogs, and we live in a warm climate. They are always shedding. I could easily sweep every day. Probably more. At our old house we had vinyl floors in the bathrooms. Dog fur sticks to vinyl. Really sticks. There would be times in that I would finally get all the dog fur swept off the bathroom floors, leave the room to get the mop, and come back to discover a new layer of dog fur had settled on the floors. Given that I am clearly not the Martha Stewart of cleaning, there is always dog hair on the floor. Living on the coast, rather than having dirt for soil, we have black sand. Have you ever looked at a particle of black sand? They are really little. Really, really little. And they cling to everything. We try to be good and always take our shoes off at the door, but that isn't always possible when we are outside with the kids and need to run in to get something. And the dogs track it in. We clean their paws, but Pru always wants to go lay in the nice, cool sand in the shade, and so it clings to her fur. So despite cleaning the floors at least once a week, there is always a fine layer of fur and sand on the floor.

And Pigpen has is own special way of crawling. He worms around the house on his belly, using his arms in a swimming motion. He rarely pushes up on all forms. It is the perfect recipe for a messy baby.

Last Friday I CLEANED the floors. They looked good. Seriously! Then on Saturday morning, Pru decided to roll on the ground outside. When she came in, she left a trail of sand. Thankfully, I noticed it while all the kids were eating breakfast, so I quickly swept it up. But that didn't stop Pigpen. No, he managed to find the areas that I had somehow missed (and you would think that I would find most of the black sand on white tile in broad daylight). Before I could put him down for his morning nap, he had to have an emergency bath. The child looked like he had just swept a chimney with the front of his body. The front of him was covered in black from head to toe. The back, aside from his bottom, was miraculously clean.

But Pigpen does do more than crawl around getting dirty. He loves to sit and play, and he is very content to play independently as long as he knows where Jeff or I am. His favorite place to play, of course, is his big sis's room since it has nice soft carpeting to crawl on and is filled to the brim with choking hazards. We now close the door to her room whenever she is not in it since every time we put him down he heads straight to her room.

Baths are one of his favorite activities. All I have to do is start running the water in the bathtub, and he will come race-worming through the house in an effort to be the first to take a bath. He usually wins since his sis is not a fan of the all-sibling baths and is brother isn't at his best around bath time. One of his favorite games (and mine) is played most nights while undressing him. As I take off his shirt or onesie, he grabs it and starts playing peek-a-boo. He will pull it over his face when I ask where he is, and then he quickly pulls it up and grins when I see peek-a-boo. This came never gets old, at least for me. He is probably completely sick of it.

He is great in the tub too. He crawls around a little, but having wiped out twice, he is a smart little guy and crawls only to reach toys and knows to keep his head high above the water. He mostly sits and plays or watches his sis as she "cooks" or acts out crazy adventures in the tub.

M remains the most scheduled of our children. He takes two naps a day, at prescribed times, and always goes to bed between 7:30 - 8:00. Always. We have learned not to push him. The same is true for dinner when he eats no later than 5:45 each night. We do NOT serve him food at 5:46. It is too late! There will be a price to pay for such foolishness.

As much as I love his peek-a-boo, the most amusing fact about Pigpen has to be that he thinks he is a dog. While L wants to be just like R, we are almost certain M aspires to be a dog. He spends his time worming around looking for crumbs on the floor, and he can spot a fallen Cheerio or frozen pea from 10' away. (Not an easy trick if you have ever held your head six inches off the floor and tried to look for things.) M always comes when called, and if he had a tail, we know it would be wagging. He also loves to chew on rugs and shoes. We cannot leave shoes on the floor. Last weekend my brother and his wife were in town, and M was in heaven. With guests around, there were always shoes to chew. Hopefully, he will outgrow this, and if we catch him trying to chase his tail, we'll know he's gone too far.

Abandonment

Okay, so I know I've abandoned all of you by not writing for two weeks. (And I know there is at least someone reading this. My fabulous friend Stacy admitted to it. Crazy girl, but it totally made my day, and for that, she is my Number One Fan!)

As always, long gaps without writing mean lots of great things have been happening preventing me from taking the time to write. But the new plan (I seem to have a new plan every 10 minutes these days) is to take home my 'puter and start writing at night. I actually did that last night but didn't get very far with my writing. Here's hoping for a better night for writing tonight. In the meantime, here's a quick R story.

In one of R's favorite Baby Blues comics, Wanda, the mom, is in the bathroom with the kids. Zoe is in the tub, and Wanda is holding baby Hammie in her lap and trimming his nails. She accidentally cuts his finger with the nail clippers, and he starts crying. Of course Wanda starts crying too and laments, "I'm a terrible mom!" (We all know that feeling!) We haven't read that comic in awhile, but R has a freakishly good memory. Two Saturdays ago R and I were in the car in the drive-thru at Chick-Fil-A. I placed our order, but it wasn't until I got to the window that I remembered to order a sandwich for Jeff who was at home with the boys. Jeff's mom was with us, and I joked to her that I was a terrible wife. As we were driving home, R says in all seriousness, "Momma, you are a terrible mommy!" I nearly burst out laughing. As I struggled to compose myself, she went on to recite the comic and compare it to my near-disaster. Our little English major conducted a very thorough analysis.

Happy New Year!

My year always starts in late August/early September. I spent two years in the real world trying to operate with a year that starts in January. I was miserable. I had previously spent my entire life working on a school year. It worked for me. I saw no reason to change. So I was very happy when I returned to the safety of operating in school years. I plan to stay on this schedule for a long time.

That being said, today is the first day of a new year. For the first time ever, the school year is no longer all about me. It doesn't start on my first day of class as either student, teacher, or administrator. The torch has been passed down, and the new year really begins on the petite princess's first day of preschool.

Getting ready for preschool has been an adventure. It started with clothes shopping. I've never really cared how I dressed any of the kids, but suddenly I panicked. I didn't want R to be The Weird Kid at school, so we went shopping. But she's so teeny! At 3, she is just starting to wear size 24 months/2T clothes. This didn't seem like a problem until we went school clothes shopping. Shirts in those sizes sometimes still have snaps at the neck. Snaps at the neck are for babies! Not to mention have the shirts we found were onesies, and those just don't work for potty training kids. And everything in the stores is long sleeve. Do the stores not know that our high temperatures are in the 70s and 80s most days until Christmas? Do they want her to roast? She is too young to suffer in the name of fashion! Finding pants that fit was no easy task either. Pants in her size are designed for big ol' diaper-covered bums. But R wears pull-ups or panties. Saggy butt has never been a very fashionable look. Thank goodness for the return of leggings!

R has a study guide for every occasion, and she read and reread Elmo Goes to School in an effort to get ready for today. Unfortunately, last Friday we found out that at her school backpacks are banned and the kids are required to use tote bags (so that all ages can get stuff out and put it in by themselves). She was not happy about that change. At all. Not only does Elmo have a backpack, but she does too, and she packed hers for school weeks ago. But, last Friday she and I went shopping and get her a tote bag, some Strawberry Shortcake fabric, and lots of pink puffy paint. On Sunday she went crazy decorating her new bag which she proudly carried today. She even requested that I write her name "the real way" using both upper and lower case letters, rather than in all capitals.

There were a couple of other deviations from the book that threw her. One was the lack of school busses. She REALLY wants to ride a bus to school. We talked about her school not having enough kids for busses. She was also devastated that she was going to have two teachers in her room. Elmo only has one. She was really hung up on this. Who knew it would be so dramatic? But we discussed "same" and "different" and I think she was okay with it.

Dropping R off at school this morning was almost non-eventful. Because she is not yet fully potty trained, and because she isn't the most social, we switched her to the two-year-old class which is a teensy class with 4 students. We were able to meet 2 of the other kids from her class at the open house last Friday. They arrived at school the same time we did this morning. When they got to their classroom, each found something to do and were completely engrossed in their activities. Not one of them even cared about saying goodbye to their parents.

I haven't gotten all the details yet, but it must've been a good first morning at school. From what I hear, one girl cried (probably the fourth child who hadn't been there yet). For snack they had bananas, the one food on earth R doesn't eat, and Goldfish crackers, which thankfully she loves. She also managed to hit the little boy in her class during dodge ball. (Thankfully she got her father's athletic abilties and not mine.) It sounds like a successful day and a great start to a new year.

The Crying Game

After going out of town, the kids clearly suffered from what we decided to call Post Vacation Disorder (PVD). They whined, cried, refused to eat, and generally tried to will us back to vacation where they got to eat whatever they wanted and were lavished with attention. (While PVD is annoying for us, I can't say that I blame them. I would love to eat whatever I wanted and have attention lavished on me.)

What we didn't realize was that PVD can also refer to Post Visitor Disorder. Last weekend my parents were in town in honor of R's birthday, and we had a fabulous time. The kids got to eat whatever they wanted and were lavished with attention. And they have been absolutely horrible ever since.

We last saw my parents on Monday evening, and by Tuesday, the boys decided to cry all day. Yes, all day. Jeff wasn't even able to get them to stop crying to take naps. Instead, he had to put them in their beds and let them wail until they passed out.

As a result of the drama, I did have a truly fun greeting when I got home from work on Tuesday. Last week, the boys were still technically immobile. On Friday, L started crawling. On Saturday, M figured out his own version of forward locomotion. Rather than crawl, he moves his whole body up and down in a forward motion. He basically looks like he's doing the worm.

I guess M was done with his dad and the madness, because when I walked in on Tuesday, he power-wormed the 30 or so feet from the living room to the front door before reaching up for cuddles. I couldn't resist.

I scooped him up, which just encouraged L to cry harder since I was cheating on him with another baby. We then attempted one of their favorite activities. I call it "recreate the womb" and I sit down and hold both boys in my lap. They stand and hit and bash each other and me, and in all its violence, they are content because everyone is touching and it IS just like the womb. But, on Tuesday, it did nothing.

Jeff had actually managed to start dinner despite the crying, and so while it cooked, I made a quick trip to the library with the boys. (We realized we had turned in a DVD case on Monday without the DVD inside. We ended up getting fined $2 for being one day late for one DVD. Ridiculous!!!) The boys were FINE the whole time. Happy, even. So we had hope.

We shouldn't have, because Tuesday night was horrible. They were overtired and exhausted from crying all day. Their teeth seemed to be hurting too. Wednesday was more of the same. So was Wednesday night. When I left for work on Thursday morning, both boys were sitting in the pack and play, surrounded by toys, and crying. Jeff was sitting on the couch and he looked like he was ready to cry too.

So I spent much of the day fretting about the situation. Finally concluded that the boys were mostly overtired and were also doing with a healthy amount of separation anxiety. Came home ready to plan. The parents may have lost a few battles, but we would win the war! I was all ready to rally. And it turns out the boys had a great day. Go figure.

But we are not done with drama just yet. Last night I went to the parent meeting for R's preschool (more on that to come, promise!), and the boys cried the whole time I was gone. Rough night too. But we are not done yet. The parents will win and the boys will be happy again. Whether they like it or not!

Generation Gap

R, L, and I were in the car on Sunday when "Ball and Chain" by Janis Joplin came on. It had just ended when we got home. As I was getting R out of the car she asked, "What wrong with song?" I told her there was nothing wrong with the song, and told her the title and who it's by. So then she asked, "What wrong with lady singing?" I said that's just how she sang. R had to think about that one for awhile.

M Man

In thinking back, it's hard to remember that until they were five months old, M was the more difficult child. He did not want to sleep alone. He wanted to sleep in bed with us, preferably face down. He was in constant motion and got really angry if we tried to do something silly like swaddle him or tuck him in. We were still trying to figure out his sensitive belly, and he was always miserable due to gas or constipation. And he seemed to be slower to catch on to thing, but when he got them, he really mastered the new skill.

But things have really changed. These days, he is a relatively happy, easy-going guy. He keeps himself on a schedule, and if you mess with the schedule, there is hell to pay. But meet his needs, and he does just fine.

I've been so busy writing about the other two, that I haven't had a chance to write about some of the great things M does. He has become the chattier one. His words, said in his own special way, include mom, hi, and yum. He was calling me "eh-mahm," and I was hearing it lots when he was upset. In the last two days, he has started referring to me as "mahhhm" which was his sis's favorite way of calling me as well. He says "hi" whenever Jeff or I walk into the house. We also occasionally hear it when he wakes up for the day or from a nap. And "yum" is one of his favorite words. Anything edible is yum, and the word can be heard frequently when he is in his high chair.

And the boy loves to eat. Over the weekend he figured out how to feed himself Cheerios. This is huge! While L will happily sit in his high chair and chew on a baby spoon or use a couple of spoons as drumsticks, if M is in his high chair, he wants to eat. Due to space limitations, the boys' high chairs are situated directly behind my seat at the table, and I have spent a good part of the last 6 weeks facing backward so I can shovel baby food at the boys in an effort to keep the M man happy. Now he can feed himself for part of the meal.

When meals are over, M tries to take off his own bib. The boys have a few bibs that fasten on the side of the neck rather than at the back. These are designed to make things easier for parents. We're learning that they also make it easier for babies to remove them and should be avoided at all costs on nights when we know he'll end up finger painting with sweet potato and pea purees. Last Sunday I also noticed that after M took off his bib, he tried to unbuckle himself too. While I appreciate the fact that he wants to be independent, he doesn't need to be quite that independent!

All the food he is eating helps fule his motion. After weeks of only moving in revense, on Sunday afternoon he finally started crawling forward. He was supposed to be napping, and I was sorting a huge stack of old bills and documents on the living room floor. Rather than going to sleep while I worked, M screamed until I took him out of his crib. I then put him down to play on the other side of the living room while I sorted. Apparently all those piles of paper were the incentive he needed to finally go forward. He charged at my papers and had lots of fun destroying them. I have to admit, watching him was a lot more fun than organizing bills.

I think my absolute favorite thing about him right now are his kisses. Without us prompting him, he learned to give kisses. Now I get a big, sloppy, open-mouthed baby kiss when I get home from work and when he goes to bed at night. What is there not to love about that?

Birthday Drama Epilogue????

R has been carefully studying the books Elmo's Birthday and the Berenstain Bears and Too Much Birthday. After careful consideration, and with no prodding from us, she has determined that she will have kids at her birthday party when she is, "a little bit older," like, "when me turn 4!" So we are off the hook for one more year. Phew!

Today we did go out and buy party supplies. Her birthday isn't for another week, but we have guests coming in next weekend so I thought we'd shop while we could. You know those themed birthday party supplies? Matching cups, plates, banners, streamers, balloons, etc.? R would have none of that. While we are not having a green birthday and avoiding paper products (I chose to pick my battles!), R did pick out only what she liked. So there are Hello Kitty plates, Disney Princess cups, and we almost got Elmo party hats. Her individualism makes me smile!

Worst Mommy EVER

We all have our strengths and weaknesses. One of my weaknesses is I completely suck at making friends. I really do. Others meet new people and make plans and hang out together. That somehow never happens for me.

But this isn't a pity party. I really am okay with it, because when I meet someone I click with, we REALLY click. Over the years I've collected a small group of really close friends, and while I may have longed for a gaggle of girlfriends in junior high, I like this arrangement. So much less drama this way.

So it's no real surprise that when we moved to Wilmington I didn't instantly make friends. It didn't help that between work and taking care of R and growing two more babies I didn't have the energy to really get out to meet people. And with the cost of moving here and saving up to buy a house and paying for those two babies I was growing, we didn't really have money for me to get out and do much either.

But in the age of internet and free long distance calls on cell phones, it didn't seem to matter. I still emailed or chatted with my two best friends daily. I didn't think this little quirk about me had any impact on anyone else. Until recently.

Due to my lack of friends, since we moved here, R hasn't been on a single play date. I've always felt bad about that (although obviously not bad enough to really do anything about it thinking it would eventually take care of itself). At her birthday party last year, she was the only kid. No silly hats, no goofy games. Just a bunch of grown ups. As horrible as I felt, I rationalized that she was only turning two. I knew for sure things would be different by this year, but, with her third birthday looming, they are the same. (I do actually have a friend in Wilmington now, but her little one is only two months old and a bit of a lump. I suppose we could play pin-the-tail on the baby, but that's about it for party games.)

Lately, R has been very stressed out and a bit melancholy. I think she is pretty anxious about starting school and having to use the potty there and making friends. She was particularly sad the other night, so I asked her what was wrong. It never occurred to me that her third birthday was contributing to the stress. Our conversation:

Me: What's wrong?

She curled away from me and hid her head, so I asked again. She finally mumbled a response.

R: Need another gehhhl.
Me: You need another girl?
R: Yeah.
Me: What for?
R: For me birthday. (Despite the sadness, I laugh inside at her pirate-speak every time. It's actually the result of too much Dora the Explorer and confusing "mi" in Spanish for "my" in English.)

I had to think about this one. I finally figured it out.

Me: What? Do you need another girl for your birthday party?
R: (hopeful) Yeah!
Me: (feeling like I've just been kicked) I'm sorry, sweetie. We don't know any girls to come to your birthday party...but you'll go to school soon and you can meet some other kids there.

I can't remember exactly what she said, but I remember she was very excited about taking her lunchbox to school. That's when I had to break the news that she wouldn't be eating lunch at preschool; she would have to come home for lunch. That didn't go over too well. So I changed the subject back to (gulp) her birthday.

I mentioned that everyone in her family would be here for her birthday and even her grandparents would be here. That's when she asked (hopeful again) if the sons of my two best friends, who each live hundreds of miles away, would be there. I sighed and told her no.

Worst mommy EVER.

Muppet Madness

Haneen and Karim are two of the Muppet stars in "Shara'a Simsim," the Palestinian version of "Sesame Street."

Hurray for Muppets!

http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/meast/08/13/generation.islam.gaza.muppets/index.html

Aha!

When it comes to sleeping, we've been having to look at L's relative success. We've been focusing on little milestones to keep from bashing our heads in. On Sunday night he actually asked to go to sleep. I was holding him and he started arching his back. I laid him down, expecting disaster. But instead, he went right to sleep.

On Monday night he did not go to sleep so easily, but he did sleep in his own bed for a two hour stretch and for a three hour stretch. This might be the most sleep he's ever had outside of a baby swing.

Then on Tuesday I decided to check askdrsears.com one more time for sleep articles. As it turns out, I realized I hadn't read the one entitled 5 Reasons Why High-Need Infants Sleep Differently. As I read it, everything seemed very familiar. So I decided to do a little more research on high needs babies.

You know how Oprah discusses Aha! moments? This was mine. It was seriously like a light bulb had been turned on. L is not a bad baby. We are not bad parents. L is just a high needs baby!

The whole term "high needs baby" doesn't imply that there is anything wrong with him, it's just a group of personality traits. High needs babies cannot self soothe. Just can't. So you can't leave them to cry because they will not stop crying. They have a hard time going to sleep and a hard time staying asleep. They are easily stimulated. (Really easily stimulated based on our experience!) They eat frequently. Really frequently. They want to be held ALL THE TIME. Unless they are having a mood swing in which they decided they want to be DOWN - NOW. And they can turn at the drop of the hat.

But, and this is huge, IF you meet their needs, they grow out of this. They are only asking for what they need at the time. There is hope for the future.

So, armed with this knowledge, we have approached the last two nights differently. If L asks for his swing, he gets his swing. He may be eight months old, but he is still well within the weight limit for it. And in his swing, he has slept. Tuesday night he only got up twice. Last night he didn't do as well, but M woke him up one time (remember, easily stimulated!) and Max may have woken him up another. But I think the biggest changes is our attitude. Suddenly it doesn't seem so bad. We are not the first parents to have a child that needs to be held. Nor are we the first that has a child that cannot be left with a sitter. And we realize that this too shall pass!

Now Accepting Reservations...

Although we got off to a late start, our bed and breakfast has officially opened for the season. Last weekend we welcomed our first guests, our friends Liz and Andy. They drove up from Atlanta with their boys who are two-years and eight weeks. Yup, they traveled with an eight-week-old baby. As my boss said, "They're as crazy as you! Traveling with ones that little..." and then she shook her head. Perhaps that's why we've been friends so long - mutual insanity!

To an outside observer, the weekend was probably utter chaos given that the petite princess was the oldest of the five children in the house. But honestly, it was the best weekend Jeff and I have had in a long time. Definitely the best weekend since the boys have been born. (We've had good moments, but never a good weekend.) We mostly just kicked back and had a great time.

On Saturday at R's request (i.e. demand), we put the kiddie pool in the backyard. She and their oldest had a great time that morning splashing and running around. It turns out that he likes pouring water from one container to another as much as she does, so they were content for quite a long time with just some old yogurt containers, measuring cups, and random plastic containers from the hospital. After his morning nap, M wanted in on the fun, so he and I even joined them in our massive, 4' diameter pool for awhile. I haven't seen the pictures yet (I'm kinda scared) but I'm sure we looked pretty hilarious all scrunched into that little pool.

The kids actually all took afternoon naps, and even I was even able to sleep awhile. It was heavenly. We were able to make fajitas for dinner before we started the group's bedtime madness. It's all hazy now, but I think we were even able to enjoy some grown up time with just their itty-bitty before passing out for the night.

On Sunday, we had a Big Adventure. We took everyone to the beach. All of us. Although we lacked baby beach supplies, they came armed with a giant beach tent that provided shelter on three sides, and we were able to pop all three babies in there. They all played in there, mostly happily, the whole time we there. Jeff and I were as delighted as our boys to discover that they sit really well in the sand, so we kinda scooped out spots for them. L especially sat and played almost the whole time.

Meanwhile the big ones were in the water. They couldn't get enough. At one point, Jeff was off swimming, and we had all the kids up near the tent. I was busy with a baby and realized I hadn't heard from R in awhile. That's when I looked up and saw her - she was a good 50 yards away and getting dangerously close to the water. Apparently she as going to head right on in by herself. I took off running and reached her just before she got there. She didn't seem phased...perhaps she has become a bit too independent!

With all the adults in the house, we were actually able to cook again on Sunday night (real food two days in a row!) and had a fabulous lasagna dinner. For the night, R was no longer eating any of the components of the meal, but these things happen. The rest of it enjoyed it.

After dinner, we watched the movie Cars, which is their little boy's favorite movie of all time. R had never seen it, and in typical fashion, she asked a million questions. At one point, Andy gave up and just began narrating the movie. This was good. Unfortunately, by this time I was exhausted (I had only slept 3-4 hours Saturday night) and not a lot of fun, but as Jeff said, "I'm so used to it, I didn't notice anything was different."

The biggest reason for my grumpy mama bear behavior is that L has not been sleeping. At all. He has been getting up to check on things a lot, sometimes once an hour. So we decided this had to end. We flirted with the cry-it-out method, but I just couldn't get into it. It just feels so wrong. And it didn't seem to work with him. Where we used it (reluctantly on my part) with his two siblings, and they did fine, L prefers to scream until he vomits. No kidding. So our newest strategy is from a book called The No Cry Sleep Solution. No word yet on its effectiveness, but at least we are trying.

And we need our sleep. Not only to function, but so we can actually enjoy all the guests at our crazy little hotel this fall. In the next two months, we will be visited by my parents, Jeff's parents, and Alex and Reiko. Crazy times!

Independence Day

At times I am completely amazed at the independence of our kids. The other night I was attempting to get the kids in the bathtub. All three had been corralled in the bathroom but were still clothed when I got distracted and went to talk to Jeff. I came back to find that R had undressed, used her little potty, taken the top of the potty off, and emptied the bowl into the toilet (without spilling!). When I walked in she was standing naked at the sink trying to figure out how to reach the water so that she could rinse out the bowl.

I was so impressed by this that I again left to tell Jeff who was just outside the bathroom door. When I came back I found that the boys had spied the pile of toys on the floor and had each maneuvered to get a toy and were happily munching on their respective ones.

When it comes to the boys, M is generally more independent. The most amusing is when he feeds himself. We lay him on a blanket on the floor to eat, and if he is hungry enough, he will hold his own bottle. When he is done, he throws the bottle to the side, rolls over on his tummy, and burps himself before scooting off to play.

L is not nearly as independent, but that doesn't mean he doesn't try to do things for himself. When he decides he wants to eat, he wants to eat NOW. I am used to this by now, and I know all his crazy tactics for attempting to nurse, but the first time caught me totally off guard. He was a little over five months old, and we had just moved into our new house. It was bedtime, but instead of nursing him to sleep, I was foolishly talking to my dad who was helping with the move. Rather than getting frustrated, L, who was in my arms, leaned over, lifted up my shirt, and attempted to latch on by himself. He knew what to do. He had been learning about this all his life!

At Last

On July 17th, we marked five years of wedded bliss. Note that I said "marked" and not "celebrated." We did try to celebrate, it just didn't quite happen.

Long before our anniversary, we knew we couldn't leave the kids with a babysitter at night. There are nights when the two of us can barely keep up with all three. Often, we could really use a third person to help since, as Jeff puts it, they need man-to-man coverage, and not zone defense. Knowing that, we decided we would get a babysitter and head to the beach for the afternoon. If we got crazy, we might get some food too while we were gone.

That was the plan, at least until our last outing without the crew. We had R with us and we had two sitters for the two boys. It seemed like a good plan. They lasted 15 minutes before calling us back. L was screaming. Reaaalllly screaming. He stopped as soon as I picked him up. Ugh.

So, based on that experience, we scrapped the beach plan and decided to just go out to eat with the kids. The kids actually tend to be okay when we go out to eat, so this plan wasn't quite as horrible as it sounds. (It's just the separations from us that cause the breakdowns, and at a meal we are all sitting at a table facing each other. ) Knowing how scheduled M is at night, we thought we would even further increase our odds of a good outing by going out to lunch rather than dinner.

On our anniversary we managed to get ourselves and all three kids ready and out the door by lunchtime. Aside from me not having the time to wash my hair, we looked pretty nice. (And who is looking at my hair when we are out with our whole crew???) And no one was screaming. Got in the car. Headed to lunch. Got to the first restaurant, got everyone out, and realized that they no longer serve lunch. Got everyone back in the car. Tried to quickly regroup. As we were listing possibilities, R threw in "Olive Garden" between every suggestion that Jeff and I made. So we decided Olive Garden it would be. When we arrived at Olive Garden, there were no parking spaces. We didn't even bother stopping. So we moved on to Plan C which involved heading to the grocery store to pick up things for a fried chicken feast. We all went in, which meant R had time to eat all the samples, and she was quite happy. Actually, everyone was doing quite well, so at least we were enjoying the time together.

We had a fairly nice lunch at home, but we hated to call grocery store fried chicken our anniversary celebration. We tossed around the idea of going out to dinner, but at dinner time we were still stuffed and the weekend meltdowns were beginning. (There is a certain part of every weekend in which all three kids dissolve into hysterical, crying, screaming messes. This will be explored further in another blog...)

Due to the meltdowns, I've blocked out the rest of the day, but I'm pretty sure it was non-eventful and possible quite painful.

On Saturday, Jeff decided to try again. He got up early and headed to the grocery store. He got stuff to make an Italian feast for dinner. He also picked up champagne and our favorite chocolate cake to enjoy after all the kids were in bed. This sounded great.

He made dinner, and it was delicious. R, who is afraid of everything since vacation, refused to eat the marinated chicken. M fussed much because he was off schedule and had refused to take a second nap. But we survived. M went to bed at 6:30 and R was tucked in by 8:30. But then there was L. He did not want to sleep. I can't remember if he was happy or sad about it. Either way, by the time we finally got him to bed, we were way too tired to do anything other than gorge on chocolate cake and pass out. We decided to save the champagne for an occasion when we were awake.

So fast forwarding to the weekend that just ended, Friday was another awful night. Saturday morning was more of the same. By Saturday afternoon, Jeff and I were done. But apparently so were the kids, because they all went to bed without too much fussing on Saturday night. We even had L tucked in by 9:00. And then, miraculously, we had the house to ourselves. Even the dogs seemed to be on their best behavior. We got to kick back and watch a DVD and finally drink our champagne. It was an anniversary celebration with two dogs and three kids under three. It was heaven.

Kiddo Update

This is mostly for the grandparents and other folks that want to know all the details of our crazy lives. I decided to just start posting excerpts from emails thinking that will help me post more often, so sorry if you run across things you've read before.

Here's what each kid did last weekend:

The Girl
Friday was too much of a "regular day" and R had a meltdown. We are not supposed to have regular days when I am at home. So come Saturday, it was time for weekend fun! There was a brief window on Saturday morning in which both boys were asleep, so she and I used that time to make apple pies using a recipe from her High Five magazine. The recipe was very kid-friendly, and it simply involved putting apple pie filling and cinnamon on tortillas and rolling them up to create McDonalds's-style apple pies. While R enjoyed eating them, she wanted to put "more ingredients" in the pie. This girl is not ready for Sandra Lee's Semi-Homemade. She is all about cooking from scratch.

On Sunday, we had girl time. She and I went shopping yesterday for big girl undies for her, and then she got her first professional hair cut. Not knowing what to do with her rat's nest, they ended up giving her a shag cut. It's really cute but it looks kinda odd on a little one. She looks like a cross between Joan Jett and Carol Brady. Each night at bed time, she and I share our favorite parts of the day. I thought she had a great time on our outing, but when it came time to share, it turns out her favorite part of the day was playing outside with the whole family in the afternoon. She is a simple kinda girl.

M Man
Over the weekend, M discovered kicking in the bathtub. He is a big fan. When he gets in the tub he kick, kick, kick, kick, kicks! It is much fun to watch. Poor M spent a great deal of the weekend screaming. I know he was hurting, but we never figured out exactly why he was hurting. We are thinking something disagreed with his belly, but he may have just been tired. Or, like his sis, he wanted more Mommy Fun Time since he seemed to be perfectly content any time I was touching him. Who knows. He definitely established himself as our morning child. He was up at 6:30 every day, and completely happy to just play on the floor til everyone else woke up. As a result, he was also the first to bed each night. On either Friday or Saturday night, after not really napping all day, he went to bed at 6:30 p.m. The boy likes his sleep.

Little L
L mastered sitting over the weekend! Despite refusing to do anything other than lay on his back and play with his toes for so long, he actually mastered sitting before his bro. He is now very happy to sit and play. It is great. He also wanted to learn how to crawl over the weekend. He figured out how to get up on all fours, rock back and forth, and lurch forward with his hands. He's not quite ready to move, but he wants to be. He has also given up on sleep. He is now the last kid to bed every night. He won't even try to nurse until he knows his sis is tucked in. (M is not even a factor.) Once the girl is tucked in, L is fairly happy to go to bed, so we are just working on getting her to bed earlier so that we can all get to bed earlier.

Mt. Laundry Lives

As anyone with kids knows, there are just not enough hours in the day. Not enough hours in the day to clean the house, not enough hours in the day to play with the kids, not enough hours in the day to sleep, and certainly not enough hours in the day to blog. (But I thought I would squeeze a quick writing session in. I'll call this "morning wake up time" and argue that it will make me more productive at work because my brain is already working. Yeah, that's it.)

I have a sneaky suspension that laundry could be the big time thief. I remember back in the days before dogs and children. I would do laundry every 10 days or so, and Jeff would do his once a month. (Seriously!) Then we got Prudence, and then Max, and suddenly we were doing laundry once a week. (Jeff's laundry also started mixing with mine at this point, increasing the frequency.) Then R came along, and while she certainly added to our laundry, her itty-bitty clothes just don't take that much space, and we started doing laundry every 4 or 5 days out of convenience, but it was certainly not a necessity.

We actually stayed at that level of laundry for a long time. But now laundry is at a whole new level. I like to blame it on the fact that we have a puker, a pee-er, and a pooper. (In addition to generating laundry, kids and dogs also make you very comfortable discussing bodily fluids!) Poor little L, with his acid reflux, is our puker. Food goes in, and at least three times out of four, spit up comes out. Not only does he generate a lot of laundry as he spits up on his clothes and on burp cloths, but he usually gets us, so Jeff and I must add our clothes to the laundry pile. There are also all the associated towels, blankets, and household items that must be cleaned as a result. He is probably our worst offender.

Close behind is M, the pee-er. These days, you cannot survive pregnancy or having a young infant without being inundated with reminders that you should put your baby to sleep on his back, as back sleeping cuts the risk of death from SIDS by 50%. M refuses to listen. He always has. Now that he can roll over, if we do something as foolish as put him to sleep on his back, he will immediately roll over on to his belly. Even if he is asleep when we put him down, he will slowly roll over in his sleep. He wants to be on his belly. Not only is this not good for him with the whole staying alive thing, but it inevitably leads to diaper disasters. He gets really relaxed when he sleeps on his belly. His system flushes all the extra fluid. He quickly runs out of room in his diaper, even though we bumped him up to R's diapers weeks ago. And so at least twice a week, he wakes up during the night having soaked through his diaper, his clothes, his sheets, and his mattress cover. We change him, and then we add all of that to the laundry pile.

And last, but not least, is the pooper. R is pretty potty trained and has even been staying dry at nap time and overnight for weeks. But she is still having issues with, as she puts it, numero dos. She just doesn't like putting numero dos in the potty. So then we have her undies. And her shorts. And occasionally the bathroom rug. The only good part is that she loves helping with the laundry. I wonder if we can remind her of this in 10 years?

And for the record, that isn't a photo of our laundry pile. But I bet we could beat it!