One thing about small children is that they are without guile. They throw themselves into whatever interests them at the moment, with no apology. I’ve discovered in my days nannying, substituting at preschool and mothers’ day out, babysitting and now with my own children, that the thing we adults most wish they wouldn’t do is what is most interesting to a child. It’s inevitable. Especially gun play. In church nurseries, teachers state and re-state their policy that no toys whatsoever are to be made into weapons. Little boys aren’t to run around shooting; it’s a bad precedent. Well, I don’t know that I really agree with that standpoint completely–children play what they see, hear, and know, and our country is currently experiencing wartime. Makes sense that the little ones run around with Lego guns. I did; my brother did–and neither of us turned into killers as adults. Precedent? Ehh.

Then again, simulated violence in childplay can make for rather embarrassing moments for a parent. The other day, I was pushing AK around a bustling Toys R Us in a shopping cart, and she must have seen some toys that triggered a play time memory. “Mom,” she stated calmly, “I want to kill somebody.”

! ! !

“What did you say?” “I want to kill somebody,” she repeated, holding up her ‘gun’ finger. Very, very casually, I asked her to refrain from discussing that any further while we were shopping. “Okay,” she said just as calmly, and put her finger away. I have never been more glad I wasn’t in the security line at an airport at that moment.

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Speaking of airports, I still haven’t finished telling about our trip to Meg’s wedding. She’s been happily married for two months now, but I still have pictures to share. After arriving in Chico, things went pretty smoothly with the arrangements and all. I’d spent the days beforehand thinking out every scenario, and making lists of what we might need, right down to a travel bottle of Dawn soap for washing bottles in the hotel sink. My husband was terribly impressed with my foresight and planning, and never once made me feel like the obsessive overplanner that I am. I just wanted to have a good time. It’s hard to have a good time when you’re running around the whole time trying to remember what you forgot…so I make lists. I have my dad to thank for that.

On Thursday, everyone who was in town by then got together for lunch at Burger Hut, a local favorite. My friend Jess, who’s from there, told me in a note that I had to try it, and I trusted her in spite of the fact that she misspelled it Buger Hut. We were all impressed. I loved the fact that I could build my own burger with all the fixings. This was the first time some of my siblings had seen the twins, and the first time in a while for everyone else, so they were stolen from John and I immediately. Roger and Murray decided it would be funny to watch the boys eat french fries. I didn’t say anything until they started dipping them in ketchup. Steph thought it was hilarious that my complaint was not the sugar content in the ketchup, it was the fact that “I consign those clothes, and they’d better not get stained, you two!” Look, I have three kids three and under. My clothing budget is stretched, thankyouverymuch! Hehe. One day, I’ll learn to let things go. I already am way less control-freaky than I was with AK. Having twins does that to a person.

Steph, my cousin Aria and I had all missed the mani/pedi’s from the day before, so we met up after lunch and had that done. We were alone in the shop, chatting about Aria’s year in Scotland, and realizing with mixed emotions that we’d missed the convergence of “the aunts” the day before at the same place, because everyone knows how crazy our mothers get when they are together. Especially Mom and Connie. Edna is traditionally the more controlled one of the three, but she is still very much a part of the magic that is “the aunts”. Secretly, I think we all wished we’d been there. Our moms are better than t.v. They’re tall, they’re attractive, they’re brash and outgoing, they’re completely charming, completely crazy, and side-slapping funny. They could charm a statue into bringing them tea and cheesecake. Nobody crosses their path without feeling as though they’ve been both privileged and swindled. And everyone they meet comes back for more of the same. Every character trait they possess is multiplied when they get together, like static electricity on steroids. We children watch the show unfold in wide-eyed, mortified fascination. And we feel sorry for anyone who has missed out on being related to us. It’s a trip.

Late afternoon, all the family met up at my cousin Allan’s gravesite. Allan was killed last year about this time in a car accident along with a friend of his. It’s been a very difficult, emotional year for my aunt Edna and uncle Bob, as well as my other cousin Rob. My mom was in Memphis helping me with my newborns when we heard the news, and she with some of my siblings rushed to California to be with her sister. I wished I could have gone, but I was still wearing a belly band to keep my c-section from busting a stitch, and nursing two babies, so I had to stay home. Edna and Bob were able to get my cousin’s gravestone on site the week we all arrived, so they had a special ceremony at the site to give those of us who hadn’t been able to make it before this a chance to grieve there and to say goodbye.

Dad and my sisters took the opportunity to love on my kids. It was so hot, everyone was dripping with sweat, but fortunately the pictures don’t show it.

I miss Allan. Anna Kathryn had a lot of questions that I tried to answer, and Connie, Ned, Aria and Yuri had some catching up of their own to do–this is the first time they’d seen Aria since she left for Scotland a year ago.

Edna had us all over to her house (also the site of the wedding) for dinner, and we all took advantage of their swimming pool.

The twins loved it. They churned themselves all over that pool. William would have come out of that float if he could have–he thinks he’s invincible. 

Stephen                                                                       William

Friday night we also spent over at Edna’s for the rehearsal. We hired a babysitter for the night to keep the kids at the hotel. When we lined up in our bridesmaid’s positions, we relized the one flaw in the beautiful outdoor wedding plan–the girls were completely facing the sun and standing right in the heat. It was at this moment that I lost my identity for the first time that week–unbeknownst to me. My aunt Connie, watching the rehearsal with the rest of our extended family, turned to someone next to her and asked, “Now, I know everyone else, but who is that standing between Steph and Aria?” It was me, people. Then the next day at the wedding, Edna didn’t recognize me for a moment. It was a most surreal feeling, and if they hadn’t been so embarrassed about it, I’d have given them a terribly hard time. Instead, I am blogging for all the world to see.  Oh, come on–if I can have a sense of humor about being unrecognizable to my own aunts, they can laugh at themselves, too. Just don’t tell me what’s different about me. I’m now 33 years old and the mother of three young children; I think I can figure it out. 

Soon, I’ll tell you all about the wedding, I promise. It was beautiful. Megan was stunning. Murray was handsome. We melted in the heat. And shoot, I still need to get that bridesmaid’s dress to the cleaner’s…

As I wheeled my five-foot-long triple stroller into Mother’s Day Out today, I was waylaid as usual by passers-by wanting to see the twins. I try to get creative in my responses. Once, an elderly man said, “Oh, look! Double the trouble!” and I thought it was cute enough to repeat. Today, it was a mother talking to the woman at the front desk. As we walked by and she asked, “Are there two of them?” I laughed, and said, “Yes! Double the trouble!” “And double the BLESSING!” the woman behind the desk replied. “Oh, yes,” I looked back, “Double the blessing, too!” She leaned over her desk and called to me, “I’m a grandmother of twins; I can say that!” “Ah, yes!” I nodded, “Their grandmothers feel the same way!”

She wouldn’t correct me if she was her grandchildren’s mother, I guarantee it. But it’s equally true and moreso, that my two boys have been double, triple, quadruple the blessing this past year. They turned one year old last Thursday, September 27th. Here’s a shot of them on their birthday–AK’s teacher gave them “Happy Birthday” stickers that they kept on all day.

We had a little party on Saturday with their older cousins. While the cousins sat outside and ate their lunch, the boys crawled around the lawn. I was amazed–both of them were very curious and didn’t mind the grass and sand a bit.

William the Wanderer

Stephen the Sweet

After lunch, we all went inside for birthday cake. Now, neither of them have ever had cake before. Stephen doesn’t even eat chewable food–he doesn’t even try, and chokes it up when we offer. William wants big people food and we do share with him from our plates, but otherwise both boys are still eating from the mountains of soft baby food we bought for pennies at Target this summer. So we were all interested to see what they thought of chocolate cake and frosting. Our two little Peas in the Pod enjoyed their little party favors–Gerber snacks and Cheerios.

William was far more bold than Stephen with his cake, but even William had reservations at first.

They didn’t last for long, however.

Oh, yeah–the cake passes inspection.

Stephen was so distracted by all the people crowded around him, he didn’t even notice his cake at first.

He finally gingerly touched his piece, then proceeded to spread it everywhere but his mouth.

For birthday presents, we assigned a gift to each cousin to open for the twins.

William was especially fascinated by the hammer boat Omie gave him.

Stephen was overwhelmed by the whole process, so he preferred to sit on the sidelines and hold the book Grandma sent in the mail. Here’s Anna Kathryn later in the day, showing her brothers how to play with their drum set. Notice that William, having already examined every gift, had decided to go play with the one thing in the room that is off-limits.

Thank you to Grandma and Grandpa, Omie and Papa Bill, Aunt Jen and Aunt Sarah, Anna Kathryn, and all the cousins for helping us make William and Stephen’s first birthday special. We had a great time!

I’m the kind of person who likes to hear the bad news first. I like to eat my least favorite foods on my plate first. I like setting job goals for myself. Because I love getting to bask in the good news. I love savoring that last delectible bite of dessert, and I love curling up for a good book after I’ve met my goals for the day. Well, fortunately for me, that’s exactly how our trip to California and Megan’s wedding started out. Bad news first.

It’s not that we missed our plane or anything. We were right on time. We got up early, everybody was dressed to match (so we wouldn’t lose anybody at the airport–clever excuse, eh?), and we were at the airport with all our lovely brown matching luggage and one perfectly-fine non-matching garment bag with plenty of time to spare.

No, the bad really didn’t happen until we got on the plane. Mind you, we were all seated together. All five of us. On three purchased seats. FOR FOUR HOURS AND EIGHTEEN MINUTES. Mind you. During nap time. Need I say more? I think I will.

Anna Kathryn wore a pull-up. She’s potty trained, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Not to worry, however, She asked at least once an hour of our four hour and eighteen minute flight if she could go to the bathroom. I was so proud of her. Then she would (every time) stare at the little potty and screach that it was not clean enough, then squeal in terror when it flushed. Not that I blamed her. I brace myself and take stock of all stray fingers, hands, and legs when that thing flushes. I swear the air pressure on the whole plane changes.

The boys did great. They smiled at everybody. People whispered about there being “two of them!” Yes, I said to myself as I walked a sleepy infant up and down the aisle singing “mommy loves you” while holding a blanket over his head. I dressed them alike so you would all ooh and ahh over the idea of twins and perhaps ignore the fact that I have brought not one, but two sleepy infants onto this plane with you.

After getting Thing One to sleep, I handed him over to John, and rescued Thing Two from the helpful grandmotherly lady he’d passed him off to. While I walked a stubborn Thing Two to sleep with one atrophied arm and another one getting there, John woke Thing One up and couldn’t find “the touch” to get him back to sleep. He complimented me profusely on my ability to knock my kids out in an effort to diffuse my frustration at having gone to all that work for nothing. The sweet older lady took Thing One for a while. I wouldn’t let go of Thing Two until he’d fully completed his nap, which meant that we now had about an hour left into the flight, Thing One was now way past his naptime AND hungry, and I was starting to see spots myself. John just kept taking AK to the bathroom. And feeding her snacks. And turning on more movies with the ipod movie player he bought me last Christmas. The stewardesses–gah, flight attendants, sorry–were slightly astonished that we would let a stranger help us with our child. But since they hadn’t offered themselves… then one of them justified our actions for us–”after all, it’s not like anyone can actually ‘go anywhere’ with them!” Right. If I’d thought the sweet little old lady could actually run off with my child I’d never have let her help me. Thank goodness we were on a plane!

So the flight was long. But then it was over and we were there. We gathered up our luggage without mishap, and I gratefully sent John and AK along to get our rental while I found a corner of baggage claim to corral the boys while we waited. And waited. For another three hours. When the rental situation was finally sorted out, we gratefully headed out of San Francisco for Chico. Right in the middle of rush hour traffic. Where we sat for an hour. We finally arrived at our hotel twelve hours after having left our cozy little house, and my mom and sisters rushed over to see us. Well, to see the babies. I realize that I am in the camel stage of my life. I carry the people and the baggage, and hold water for long periods of time until I get a chance to go to the potty myself. The people being my lovely children upon whom their aunts, uncles, and grandparents shower attention. It’s okay. I would rather not be noticed right now anyway. This camel has officially lost her figure.

Grandma loved feeding her grandbaby for the first time since their first month of life. Those white poles behind the bed are the boys’ cribs. I can’t tell you how many times people asked us if we brought those with us. The idea of bringing two non-foldable, metal bar cribs on our flight with us was so preposterous we had to sit openmouthed a couple times swallowing choice words before explaining that no, the hotel provided those. We did have to bring our own car seats, however.

So, I still have wedding pictures to post, I still have summer pictures to post, and I still need to take last year’s Christmas pictures off my pantry door. I was reminded of that this morning, when Anna Kathryn discovered a picture of Grandpa on there.

AK:     Mommy, look! That’s my Grandpa!!! Grandpa loves me.

Me:     Yes, Darling. He loves you madly.

AK:     No! Grandpa loves me HAPPY.

Stephen soiled his fuzzy blanket last night. It’s become a dillemna. Not because I can’t seem to find a diaper that’ll keep everything in, although that’s a problem, too. The dillemna is that I have two boys, two blankets, only one clean, and it’s naptime. I stood there a moment ago looking at both boys and trying to decide which personality could handle sleeping without his blanket.

I decided on William. He’s my explorer, my matter-of-fact one, who adapts to any situation and calmly goes through life. Surely he could handle falling asleep sans fuzzy blanket. I grabbed the clean one out of his crib and tossed it to Stephen, who pounced on it with a grin. Stephen likes to sleep on top of it. If we pull it out from under to cover him up in his sleep, he’ll grab it with his eyes closed and put it back underneath. Stephen is a sentimental lover, and I’m pretty sure won’t handle a nap well with no fuzzy blanket.

William likes to sleep with it on his head. I don’t like that one bit, since I often find him completely covered by it, breathing loudly underneath and surely suffocating himself. When I grabbed it off his head and tossed it to Stephen, I quickly covered William with a substitute. He immediately sat up, stared closely at the substitute, then pulled himself up in his crib and gazed longingly over at Stephen with a wimper. So that’s not going to work. It’s William’s fuzzy blanket, after all. I tossed it back to him, and grabbed AK’s softest blanket–one covered with little hearts–and threw it at Stephen.

Stephen grabbed AK’s blanket, and snuggled it, wiggled his bottom, flashed his pearly baby teeth–and sat up suddenly with an inscrutible expression on his face. He looked at the hearts on the blanket, looked behind him for his fuzzy, then decided he would forego his nap altogether and play. Five minutes later, William was sound asleep under his blanket, so I gently took it off his head, handed it to a grateful Stephen, and replaced it with the subsitute. William didn’t budge. Alright!

It’s too late, though. Stephen is lying on his back with William’s fuzzy blanket, squealing and gazing at the ceiling.

I bought those blankets at Costco last winter–they came with a Winnie the Pooh sleeper for the boys, and I thought they were sweet and adorable. If I’d known the boys would chose those blankets as their favorites, I’d have bought several sets, but I did not have such foresight. I assure you, I will be cruising anxiously through the baby clothing section in Costco this fall, hoping to see them again. I could really use more than two of those. My washing machine just doesn’t spin quite fast enough to make it with one for each boy.

Sorry it’s been so long since I’ve posted. I have tons of pictures to share, but it’s been a very busy month. We’ve been getting ready for the MOMC Everything For Kids consignment sale, which is this weekend. I’ve tagged over 400 items of clothing, and several bags full of other items that we’re getting rid of to make room for the next size up for our three kids. The sale is this weekend. We’ve also been engaged in our own personal Operation: Stick it to Target, which my husband has informed me I’m not allowed to share about on the blog. “They will hunt you down, baby! They will hunt you down!” Okay, he didn’t actually say that. Suffice it to say that we are all set on baby food for the rest of the year, thanks to some generous coupons the store probably now regrets offering.

Next week, we fly to California for Megan’s wedding. I have three matching chocolate brown suitcases lined up in my bedroom waiting for the rest of the clothes I am still hunting down in my neglected house. I informed my husband that having all of them match would help us keep track of everything between home/airport/hotel/airport and back home again. I even have a matching chocolate brown satchel for me, and a lovely little matching carry-on bag for him. He is mortified at my decision (?), so we will also have a “perfectly fine” garment bag with us that doesn’t match at all. Hmph. I have five days to clean my house, find a double umbrella stroller for the airport, pack the luggage, do any last minute shopping, and pack enough toys and snacks to keep my three small children occupied on the 4 hour and seventeen minute flight. John has a headache already.

I stifled a rueful laugh in the driver’s seat of our van this morning, trying to decide just how much I miss those days when communication from my daughter and consisted of one-word exclamations.

“Look!”

“Truck!”

“Red!”

Say goodbye to those days forever. At least until the twins start trying to talk. Anna Kathryn and I have now graduated to practicing poetry and Bible verses together, singing songs at the top of our lungs, and learning what the lights mean at intersections. Today, though, AK’s training came out in a shocked exclamation from her as I cruised under a yellow light.

“Mommy! Orange means SLOW DOWN!”

“Red means STOP, Mommy. You have to stop. Stop!”

“Yes, Dear. I’m stopping. See? Look, I’m stopping.”

I did that to myself.

At the water sprinkler park.

At the play yard in the mall.

John’s three kids went all out for their daddy this year for Father’s Day. I’m sad that I haven’t had time to post anything about it before now, but I thought you’d all enjoy seeing what they gave him, anyway. Anna Kathryn and I went to Paint-A-Piece and made Daddy a plate to bring to work and showcase on a stand. And all three of them posed adorably for a collage photo I found a frame for at Michael’s. Daddy was pleased. He had been sure he was getting a tie.

William has no hangups about sticking to tradition and reaching his milestones along with everybody else. He’s on a mission to discover the world, and if that means he needs to get up and moving, he’s going to do it. Rather than attempt to stifle his exploring nature, John and I are scrambling to put dangerous cords out of reach, and blockade the kitchen and bathroom so he can’t hurt himself. We still haven’t put up a gate between the living and dining rooms, but that’ll be happenning within the next couple weeks. It’s going to take some screws and elbow grease, because our doorway is too wide for the usual tension gates. There’s always the crib–we keep dropping it a few inches every couple weeks to keep him in.

Recently, we let William play around on the jungle gym at a picnic…

…John stook next to him to avoid any broken baby teeth or nasty falls, but William explored everything with no mishaps. Here he is trying to do pullups and show his daddy up.

Stephen, my shy lover, feels that he has nothing to prove to anybody.

Except that he can get a laugh if he wants to!

Saturdays are usually reserved for outside work. I put the twins outside on a blanket with an umbrella for shade while I trimmed back my roses. When Anna Kathryn was a baby, the blanket plan worked. She couldn’t stand to touch the grass even a little bit. Not so with my boys. William prowled the yard like a lion seeking his prey, and Stephen inched himself to the edges of the blanket and fingered the grass tips. Anna Kathryn flitted about the yard rescuing leaves and sticks from little mouths, until I gave up and brought them all back in.




William Stephen

Anna Kathryn is finished at The Little Gym for the summer. She had her grand finale a couple weeks ago with fanfare and a medal ceremony. She’s done well in her little class; she can pull herself up on the parallel bars and flip around. She can walk on the balance beam without help, and she knows some simple floor exercises. She also learned a lot this year about following directions and listening in class.

Here’s my little champion.

Stephen and William watched the proceedings with rapt attention. William tried to get in on the fun.

This little hula hooper looks more accomplished than she actually is. She knew what to do with it, but it invariably ended up at her ankles. The children also use these to practice positioning and floor exercises. Plainly speaking, she could lay it on the floor and jump her feet in and out of the circle, or do “donkey kicks” out of it.

Here are the little Champions!! The yellow wall opposite the children was lined with parents, cameras and siblings. It was quite a show.

In place of The Little Gym this summer, we’re putting our $$ into the YMCA. They have toddler arobics classes that incorporate a little bit of Kindermusik style and a bit of Little Gym’s style. This morning, AK and I tried it out. They told me she had a great time, and acted as though she had been in the class forever. I’m glad, because it gives me a chance to work out at the same time.

When Anna Kathryn learns a new word, she tries to associate it with words she already knows, and what she spits back out ends up sounding pretty funny. For instance, “flip flops” didn’t make any sense to her, so she grabbed two words she knew, and called her new shoes “foot locks.” She didn’t understand me when I explained we were going to “the gym” but she recognized the sound of what her friend Emerson calls his grandmother: “Gin-Gin”. So this morning, I handed her the YMCA ID card with her picture on it, and as she carried it into the gym, she laughed to herself, “This is such a silly picture, Mommy. This is a picture of my friend, Anna Kathryn. It’s my friend Anna Kathryn for the Gin-Gin!”