This one's for the boys baby books I never completed

Over the last couple of weeks the boys have been making substantial progress on their verbal skills, both expressive and the other kind that's name eludes me at the moment...oh nevermind. I'll think of it later. Anyways  seeming overnight they've progressed from only using "choo choo"(Max) and "shtuuck" (Alex) to more sophisticated words like "closed", "open", "help","shister" "cold", "hot" ,"hurt" ,"hi mama",  "dada shoes" and even "uh oh we'd baba go?" or "Dada go bye bye car car!" 

My babies have grown from uttering just a handful of words to stringing together three and four phrases! Give me a moment while I gush with Mommy pride..... Okay Done.  

I've already experienced the joy of watching one child grow from a babbling, cooing baby into a preschooler armed with a lexicon that would put a debate team to shame and still the utter thrill of watching my babies learn to use language never wears off. 

A particular moment of motherly excitement came just a couple of nights ago as Max wrestled Alex to the ground in order to gain control of both his sippy cup and that of his brother. (No, that was not the moment of pride.) Upon finally gaining the upper hand and snatching both sippies he threw both chubby little hands into the air and shouted triumphantly  "TWO CUPS!!". 

What?!?!?!

 You know the word "two" and moreover what it means? I had no idea that he was beginning to grasp fairly abstract concept  like numbers and counting!  And seemingly as though to prove that it wasn't just a random fluke, he lowered one hand and shouted "ONE CUP!". 

Patrick and I were slack-jawed. 

It was as though we went from having a cute, warm, fun little puppy who did nothing but the ordinary things that cute, warm fun little puppies do and then one day that puppy begins to read The New Yorker ...out loud....in French. 

Seriously. We were that stunned.  

(No offense Max. We don't really think of you as a puppy. Mommy was just making a point about how stunned she was. I will say however that little boys are infinitely more like puppies than little girls, what with all the chewing of shoes, leaping onto laps, eating scraps off the floor and utter and total excitement they display every time you enter a room. Come to think of it I seem to remember that just a couple of days ago a certain little boy came into the kitchen on hands and knees barking and growling like a puppy. Can't blame me for making the obvious association!)  

And as if learning numbers wasn't enough of a trick for one week, yesterday at breakfast Max dropped his cup and said what sounded like "oh cup". Not thinking too much of it, I handed him back his cup and went back to engaging the children in a lively discussion on Christmas traditions loading the dishwasher. A couple minute later he drops his spoon and again says "Oh Cup". This time I correct him "No No Maxie Waxie SPOON. Look at Mama's mouth. SPOOOOON. Not cup" and hand him his spoon. I turn around and this time he drops his bacon on the floor and again says "Oh Cup".  And finally it hits me... he's not saying "Oh Cup"! He's saying "Oh Cwap!" 

And rather appropriately I might add.  

Then I think back to the last few days and realize he's been saying it all along. When he drops something "Oh cwap!". When he gets buckled into his car seat "Oh cwap!" When I close the door to their room for naptime "Oh Cwap!". 

CWAP, CWAP, CWAP. I knew it was time to clean up the vocab a little bit. I can't wait to see what he comes away after a few days with Grandpa Campos. 

Oh CWAP!

Hands are not for stabbing

I am too old to run through the house with pair of scissors.

I am too tired to climb up on countertops and attempt a back flip off.

I am too cheap to play with fire lest something of value burn to ashes.  

I am not evidently smart enough to avoid ramming a knife into my palm.

I'll spare you the long (and gory) version and just say that while attempting to scrape caramelized pecans off a plate for the decadent Triple Layer Pumpkin Spice Pie I made for hubby's office Christmas party, I became a little too enthusiastic and more importantly a little careless.  Thus the kitchen knife in the palm. Ouch. 

Blood was lost, friends were called in to watch the kids, stitches were, well stitched, Tetanus boosters were injected and now my left hand is swollen and numb BUT on the upside the pie was a big hit at the office! 

So there you have it. A wife who is hopelessly devoted to her husband outdoes herself to ensure that he has the perfect pie...bloodshed and all. 

Sounds like a certain Stepford wife earned herself an hour long massage tonight. 

And finally a thoughtful response for the girl on the trolley

We engaged in the usual scripted conversation about twins for a few minutes.

Oh they are twins! Wow! Double Trouble, huh?

Are they fraternal?

Do twins run in your family? Your husbands?

What are their names? 

Who's the oldest?

Almost two years into mothering twins and I could sleep talk through the whole thing. Occasionally the questions vary in the order they are asked or if the person is especially nosy they'll ask whether they're natural (as opposed to artificially flavored?) and if they were born vaginally. The ones who ask whether they were born vaginally are typically parents of twins or in the medical field. It's not very often that people are comfortable saying the word vaginally to virtual strangers but for some reason it's socially acceptable if you're discussing birthing multiples.  By that time your vagina is no longer your own business. 

The conversation is nearing it's close. I've answered all the vital statistics and smiled and nodded appreciatively at the invariable "Boy, they must keep you busy!" when she decides to veer off script,

 "What in your opinion has been the single hardest thing about raising twins?"

Really? The single hardest thing... in my opinion. We're bumping along in the freezing dark on a horse drawn trolley ride making small talk and suddenly I'm to sum up the all the struggles of parenting twins for a girl who looks all of 19 with only one block between us and the drop off point. 

So I open my mouth and out drops one of the stupidest responses I've ever had the disdain of answering.

"They feed off each other."

And then I go on and try to explain about the times when one boy is crying and other starts for no reason other than that his brother is crying. All the while she's nodding her head knowingly as though that's exactly what she expected all along and just like that we're at the end and I can't take it back. 

And by then it doesn't matter. She's wished us a good night and is talking to her curly headed boyfriend about how nice it's been to have snow and cold weather for a change.  Meanwhile I'm reluctantly stepping off the trolley wondering where the hell that ridiculous answer even popped out from, desperately wanting a chance to revise my answer. Not because she cares or could ever fully understand it no matter how poignant my response but so that I can go on the record as a mother who's greatest challenges have amounted to much more than just babies that "feed off each other". 

So trolley girl let me back up a bit and start over again.

In my opinion the hardest thing about raising twins has been not ever being enough. When both babies are crying out for you, or want your undivided attention, or unlimited affection or simply want to snuggle in your arms and pretend  that only the two of you exist there is never enough. Not enough time. Not enough space on one lap. Not enough you to go around. Try as you might to create "individual time" so that each child has the opportunity to feel special, feel like in that moment they're the center of your world, the total sum of all their other moments has been experienced as a part of a pair. When you shift all your attention on one, invariably another receives less. Try and dole it out equally and everyone gets slivers. 

I'm cognizant of the fact that parents of more than one child probably feel the same. It's definitely not unique to twins. And in truth since they've never known any different it may not matter to them at all. The boys will never know what it's like to have me all to themselves, like Sophia once did.  But I always will. It's a feeling of wanting to give each of them your all and falling short most of the time.

So there you have it trolley girl.  Having limitations on how much of yourself you can give to the children who you love without limits is the hardest part of parenting... in my opinion of course. 

Thanks for asking and have a nice life.

It's Good To Be Me Today

BECAUSE my children have had three consecutive days of naps plus a bonus return of the "normal" bedtime routine.  In what has been our hardest experience of raising twins to date the boys daring escape from their cribs and subsequent replacement of said cribs with toddler beds has been BRUTAL. 

And when I mean brutal I mean nights in which the boys refused to even lay in their new beds preferring instead to wander aimlessly throughout their room, wailing for hours until they collapsed from blinding exhaustion (no, they will not permit us to rock or soothe them to bed), to be proceeded by what can only be described as night terrors, and THEN 12 hour days in which no nap occurred despite the utilization of every sleep charming trick in the book (short of whiskey). All that sleep depravation could only lead to days upon days of explosive, unpredictable, inconsolable tantrums (them, not me).  

It was bad. 

You don't always get the full impact of having two kids the same age until they are mean, angry little kids that have a full on conniption every time you so much as walk across the room in a direction that displeases them. Then it's just ugly. 

The good news is that in a stroke of sheer genius (yes, I said genius) I decided to move Sophia's bed into the boy's room. Can you say brilliant?!?! Now she's not alone at night (which she just luvs) and we have a safety monitor in the room to keep the running into walls PLUS she has been known to say "Okay babies, Time to sleep.  Get into your beds NOW!" And they do. Ha! I knew having a child with the personality of a Marine Drill Instructor would pay off one way or another.  Naps, or "quiet time" as we like to call it around here, have worked out better when Sophia is back in her room (we now have four toddler beds set up in our house) and admittedly the boys still play for an hour or so before they drop to sleep by the door but hey, at least everyone's napping again right?  

Last night I was able to tuck three sweet babies into warm, cozy beds, read Good Night Moon, whisper prayers and kiss three little heads good night and then just walk out with no protesting, screaming or crying following me out.  What more could you ask for? 

So what was the point of all that? Oh yea.. with three well rested children at home it's good to be me.

BECAUSE I am super mom. Yup, super mom.  I realize I shouldn't brag or define myself as simply "Mom" (quick shot out to all the feminist out there) but seriously I am good.  How many people would brave taking two one year olds (who are probably closer to a one year old level verbally and cognitively but a three year old level physically) and their "high spirited" four year sister on a 90 minute grocery store expedition AND then find the wherewithal to turn it into a math/science/vocabulary/history/nutrition lesson. Raise your hand.  Just awful to sound so self-important but life's too hard not to shout your own praises from time to time, right? And in truth it is still such a challenge to take them all out that I always feel so good after a successful outing. Even better if I get the Oh-please-tell-me-you're-babysitting-and-they're-not-ALL-yours looks. Just confirms what I already know. Yes, dammit they are ALL mine. And despite taking an entire morning to do what might have taken an hour without little kids in tow, it's still good to be me. 

Because yesterday I worked hard, did projects, cleaned house, organized, did laundry, decorated for Christmas, scrubbed toilets but TODAY I have time to sit. And read. And write. And just enjoy.   

Definitely good to be me today.