This is a big week for the Wonder Twins. (Cue the theme song from The Jeffersons) They're "moving on uh-uh-up" as the song goes to the Middle Twos class at school. Their last official day in the Young Twos class is tomorrow.
I learned this critical information last week when I found a Xeroxed graduation certificate in each of their cubbies in their classroom. Not knowing if anyone had really shared this news with them, I said, "Hey, girls! Guess who's starting in the Middle Twos class next week?" They roared back "Avery!" and "Lexie!" and began jumping up and down.
From their jubuliant response, I gathered they were genuinely excited about the change. That's a good thing, because Mommy is pretty psyched about the transition and has been looking forward to it for a while. Here are a few reasons why:
First, Ethan - the boy they talk about practically non-stop and the subject of last week's blog post - is moving up. Although they have mentioned other "new friends" like Ezra and Vihaan lately, it seems no one can take Ethan's place on the playground. They would be most upset if they didn't get to work puzzles with him and point at his "Hurricane 'Canes" jersey on a daily basis.
Second, potty time all the time! The Middle Twos teachers really focus on constant potty training. The bathroom wall in the Middle Twos room is covered with large, colorful charts. Each kid has one and gets to put a circular sticker on it when they put their "pee pee" and "poo poo" in the toilet. I never thought I would be so thrilled about potty charts, but I am. Lexie is doing a great job learning to "go like a big girl" and will likely be wearing "big girl underpants" in a few months. Avery is a different story. She has no patience for sitting on the commode long enough to give anything the opportunity to come out, so I'm hoping stickers will encourage her to go, go, go! I'm so ready to be done with diapers!
Third, my girls are smart little cookies. At home, one of their favorite activites (besides throwing the contents of my coat closet all over the downstairs while screaming with delight) is playing with our new opposites (think dark/light, big/little) flash cards. They liked the animal flash cards so much that we bought these at a local school supply store. They're for kids age 5+. With the exception of the cards for right hand and left hand, they can identify them all. What can I say? They're going to be nerds. They sleep with books at night like most kids sleep with stuffed animals. I'm okay with that. I'm sure Steve Jobs and Bill Gates did the same thing back in the day.
That said, they really need more challenging activities than sticking cotton balls to a piece of paper. They've outgrown most of the projects in the Young Twos class. In the Middle Twos, they'll do more work with letters and numbers, which they will love!
With all my excitement for the fun days that lie ahead, I am a little sad that the girls are leaving behind two teachers who they adore. And, the teachers love them just as much in return. Miss Laura and Miss Linda are very special people who do a great job with all the kids they teach, not just mine.
I stopped Miss Linda yesterday to tell her how much the girls have appreciated being in her class for the past few months. She said she was sad to see them go, because they are her best helpers. Especially Avery. She shared how the girls gather up the rest of the class for circle time each day and make things like cleaning up a lot easier.
Of course, I was proud. But, I had to laugh, too, because my mind instantly conjured up an image of Avery - the dominant one of my pair - ordering everyone to sit down. NOW. She's a leader for sure, and God help anyone who stands in her way when she wants something. Avery will plow over them in a New York minute. On the flip side, I was glad to hear Lexie was also showing initiative and not letting big sis (by 8 minutes) boss her around.
The class will certainly bring new things - new friends, new songs to sing and new germs to overcome. But, the girls are ready, and hopefully, the experience will only bolster their love for learning, playing and nerding out.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
No Dating until You're 40 (or How We Turned the Twins into Crazy Cat Ladies)
The day we found out that we were having not one but two little girls, Geof vowed to get a shot gun. Not because he likes to hunt and wanted to bring home extra food for his growing family. (Please! Do we really strike you as the family who roughs it? The only camo Geof wears is for fashion, not function in a deer stand.)
Daddy's main goal in buying a powerful firearm was to scare the begeezus out of any boy who dared look at Avery and Alexa the wrong way. Yeah, he's a little protective of his beautiful baby girls.
Well, it's been about three years since that day in the ultrasound room, and we are still gunless. But, that may soon change.
The twins have developed a strong affinity for a certain boy in their class at school AKA daycare. His name is Ethan. And, they talk about him all the time. Thank goodness, they can't text yet. I might lose my mind.
(Sidebar: I just dropped tomato from my sandwich on my laptop. So go the dangers of blogging on your lunch break.)
In fact, just yesterday when I walked into their classroom at school to pick them up for the day, they ran over to me and immediately started pointing at Ethan. "Mommy, Ethan!" "Mommy, Ethan!"
Now, I don't have great vision, but I could clearly see Ethan and didn't exactly need them to point him out to me. He's been in their class since they were 3 months old, so Geof and I know which kid is Ethan. Their excitement made me laugh.
"Mommy, Ethan have hurricane canes," Avery shared emphatically.
"Hurricane canes" is Avery and Lexie's term for either candy canes or the Raleigh-based NHL hockey team, the Carolina Hurricanes. Ethan happened to be wearing a Hurricanes hockey jersey very similar to the one Geof has. This was not the first time the girls had seen Ethan wear it, but you wouldn't have that known from their level of excitement.
The shirt discussion continued well into the 20-minute drive home.
"Mommy, Ethan come upstairs," said Avery. "You mean, come play in our playroom upstairs?" I asked, thinking at the same time that I might need to start implementing the No Boys in Your Room rule. "Yeah!" exclaimed Lexie.
"Ethan, come eat dinner," Avery added. "You want Ethan to come over and play and then eat dinner with us?" I tried to clarify. "Yeah!" Lexie said again. (She's definitely going to be the cheerleader.) "We all eat together!"
Ok, here's the thing. Geof and I generally know Ethan's parents from the many times when we cross paths in the pick up/drop off process at school. They are incredibly nice and make a very cute couple. But, honestly, I don't remember what their names are (beyond my typical default of "Ethan's Mommy" or "Ethan's Daddy"), and I definitely don't have their numbers programmed into my cell phone. Based on that, I think they might find it a little weird if I stop them in the parking lot and say "Hey, my kids talk about your son all the time. Wanna come over and eat dinner at our house? The kids want to take your son upstairs. By the way, what's your name again?"
So, for now, the twins will have to keep making imaginary plans for Ethan with all his sweet blonde curls to come over and play. And, Geof can keep shopping for the shot gun.
Daddy's main goal in buying a powerful firearm was to scare the begeezus out of any boy who dared look at Avery and Alexa the wrong way. Yeah, he's a little protective of his beautiful baby girls.
Well, it's been about three years since that day in the ultrasound room, and we are still gunless. But, that may soon change.
The twins have developed a strong affinity for a certain boy in their class at school AKA daycare. His name is Ethan. And, they talk about him all the time. Thank goodness, they can't text yet. I might lose my mind.
(Sidebar: I just dropped tomato from my sandwich on my laptop. So go the dangers of blogging on your lunch break.)
In fact, just yesterday when I walked into their classroom at school to pick them up for the day, they ran over to me and immediately started pointing at Ethan. "Mommy, Ethan!" "Mommy, Ethan!"
Now, I don't have great vision, but I could clearly see Ethan and didn't exactly need them to point him out to me. He's been in their class since they were 3 months old, so Geof and I know which kid is Ethan. Their excitement made me laugh.
"Mommy, Ethan have hurricane canes," Avery shared emphatically.
"Hurricane canes" is Avery and Lexie's term for either candy canes or the Raleigh-based NHL hockey team, the Carolina Hurricanes. Ethan happened to be wearing a Hurricanes hockey jersey very similar to the one Geof has. This was not the first time the girls had seen Ethan wear it, but you wouldn't have that known from their level of excitement.
The shirt discussion continued well into the 20-minute drive home.
"Mommy, Ethan come upstairs," said Avery. "You mean, come play in our playroom upstairs?" I asked, thinking at the same time that I might need to start implementing the No Boys in Your Room rule. "Yeah!" exclaimed Lexie.
"Ethan, come eat dinner," Avery added. "You want Ethan to come over and play and then eat dinner with us?" I tried to clarify. "Yeah!" Lexie said again. (She's definitely going to be the cheerleader.) "We all eat together!"
Ok, here's the thing. Geof and I generally know Ethan's parents from the many times when we cross paths in the pick up/drop off process at school. They are incredibly nice and make a very cute couple. But, honestly, I don't remember what their names are (beyond my typical default of "Ethan's Mommy" or "Ethan's Daddy"), and I definitely don't have their numbers programmed into my cell phone. Based on that, I think they might find it a little weird if I stop them in the parking lot and say "Hey, my kids talk about your son all the time. Wanna come over and eat dinner at our house? The kids want to take your son upstairs. By the way, what's your name again?"
So, for now, the twins will have to keep making imaginary plans for Ethan with all his sweet blonde curls to come over and play. And, Geof can keep shopping for the shot gun.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
The Big Stink about Potty Training
Avery and Lexie are almost 2-and-a-half years old, and that has good ol' Mom counting the remaining months until they need to be potty trained. Oh crap. (Pun intented)
Our daycare center, or "school" as we call it, officially requires its students to be proficient on the potty at age 3. Now, I've heard through the mommy grapevine that some of the kids in the Young 3s class do not meet that stipulation, and as far as I know they haven't been permantly pulled off the playground. Yet.
But, my innate obessession with following the rules has me mildly stressed about meeting this milestone. Not so much with Lexie. She regularly goes "pee pee" and "poo poo" in the potty at school and at home. She doesn't do it every time, but she does do it most of the time. It's Avery I'm a little worried about.
Avery will tell me that she needs to go, but she never delivers. In fact, she'll barely sit down on the special Sesame Street character seat that fits on the "big potty" for more than five seconds. Apparently, Geof's self-diagnosed Attention Deficit Disorder is hereditary.
So, since Avery won't sit on the toilet, she won't go in the toilet. We definitely don't want to pressure her or force her in any way if she's not ready. (I've read that only results in really bad bathroom issues later on. No thanks!) But, we do want her to get on a path to potty success sometime soon. It's what's best for everyone's bottom line. Seriously, do you know how much money we've spent on diapers in 2.5 years? Bring on the Yo, Gabba! Gabba! panties!
To help, we plan to institute a sticker reward system for the twins this month. It seems to work really well with Lexie at school, so we think it should work well at home, too. After a successful session on the potty, they can pick out their sticker of choice and put it on a chart. When they get a set number of stickers, they get a prize. From the dollar store. Remember, we spend all our money on diapers and wipes. :)
There are two other key things that are challenging about potty training my twins. First, they're little. Lexie weighs just over 25 pounds. Avery weighs just under 25 pounds, thanks to a tough bout of pneumonia last month. The smallest training pants I've found (that don't cost as much as a car) are 2T. The girls just don't have enough junk in the truck to hold up 2T bottoms. So, we're a little stuck in the diaper department as far as up-and-down ease is concerned.
Second, the girls fight over whose turn it is to sit on the potty. And, by the time I've dried the tears and determined the potty priority, they aren't interested in going. This funny (and irritating) competition takes forever, especially when we're getting ready for bath time at night. The girls race constantly back and forth between the garden bath tub in our bathroom (it's big enough for two girls to "swim" in at the same time) and the guest room bathroom where we keep their Sesame Street seat, vying for prime potty position. It takes a solid 20 minutes for me to referee the contest and get everyone in the tub, which by that point is nearly overflowing with scented bubble bath.
Good times. Just imagine if we'd had triplets! Geez!
Although the potty training trials may not always be fun (or smell good), they will make the time when Avery and Lexie are able to go on their own that much better. Please, let that be soon.
Our daycare center, or "school" as we call it, officially requires its students to be proficient on the potty at age 3. Now, I've heard through the mommy grapevine that some of the kids in the Young 3s class do not meet that stipulation, and as far as I know they haven't been permantly pulled off the playground. Yet.
But, my innate obessession with following the rules has me mildly stressed about meeting this milestone. Not so much with Lexie. She regularly goes "pee pee" and "poo poo" in the potty at school and at home. She doesn't do it every time, but she does do it most of the time. It's Avery I'm a little worried about.
Avery will tell me that she needs to go, but she never delivers. In fact, she'll barely sit down on the special Sesame Street character seat that fits on the "big potty" for more than five seconds. Apparently, Geof's self-diagnosed Attention Deficit Disorder is hereditary.
So, since Avery won't sit on the toilet, she won't go in the toilet. We definitely don't want to pressure her or force her in any way if she's not ready. (I've read that only results in really bad bathroom issues later on. No thanks!) But, we do want her to get on a path to potty success sometime soon. It's what's best for everyone's bottom line. Seriously, do you know how much money we've spent on diapers in 2.5 years? Bring on the Yo, Gabba! Gabba! panties!
To help, we plan to institute a sticker reward system for the twins this month. It seems to work really well with Lexie at school, so we think it should work well at home, too. After a successful session on the potty, they can pick out their sticker of choice and put it on a chart. When they get a set number of stickers, they get a prize. From the dollar store. Remember, we spend all our money on diapers and wipes. :)
There are two other key things that are challenging about potty training my twins. First, they're little. Lexie weighs just over 25 pounds. Avery weighs just under 25 pounds, thanks to a tough bout of pneumonia last month. The smallest training pants I've found (that don't cost as much as a car) are 2T. The girls just don't have enough junk in the truck to hold up 2T bottoms. So, we're a little stuck in the diaper department as far as up-and-down ease is concerned.
Second, the girls fight over whose turn it is to sit on the potty. And, by the time I've dried the tears and determined the potty priority, they aren't interested in going. This funny (and irritating) competition takes forever, especially when we're getting ready for bath time at night. The girls race constantly back and forth between the garden bath tub in our bathroom (it's big enough for two girls to "swim" in at the same time) and the guest room bathroom where we keep their Sesame Street seat, vying for prime potty position. It takes a solid 20 minutes for me to referee the contest and get everyone in the tub, which by that point is nearly overflowing with scented bubble bath.
Good times. Just imagine if we'd had triplets! Geez!
Although the potty training trials may not always be fun (or smell good), they will make the time when Avery and Lexie are able to go on their own that much better. Please, let that be soon.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Car Karaoke with Mommy and the Little Song Birds
Whenever the Levine family piles into my green Ford Escape hybrid to travel near or far, I always feel a little bit like a deejay. It's not because the girls are particularly interested in the running mix I have on my iPod but haven't used in roughly two years or want to hear my burned CD collection played in perfect rotation. They want me to sing. Loud and long.
Typically, they're most interested in singing "Old McDonald Had a Farm."
"Mommy, sing it!" exclaims Avery from the backseat on the way home from daycare. "Mommy, sing Old McDonald!" I respond, "Oh, I want to hear you sing it." Lexie chimes in, "Nooooo! Mommy sing it!"
At that point, am I going to do? Disappoint my biggest (and only) music fans? Not a chance.
"Ok, which animal is on the farm?" I ask. "Cow!" yells Avery. "Zebra!" shouts Lexie. I pick the cow, because it has an obvious and easy to imitate sound unlike our striped friend, the zebra. I sing most of the words in a slightly off key voice while attempting to cross three lanes of rush hour traffic on I-40 in Raleigh. The twins fill in the pauses.
I lead them: "With a...." "MOO! MOO!" they sing in unison. I jump back in: "here and a..." "MOO! MOO!" they sing again. My turn: "There. Here a..." "MOO!" You get the picture.
This goes on and on and on and on until we run out of normal sounding farm-ish type animals. I gladly embrace the lions, monkeys and dolphins, which I know don't likely live on Old Mickey D's farm, but at least they have good sounds that are easily repeatable. By Mommy. Who's driving.
When we run out of those, the girls always gravitate towards the animals that they see in our many books at home. The ones that don't really make any noise at all. Let me share an example.
"What other animals live on the farm?" I inquire. "Ladybugs!" shouts Lexie from her side of the backseat. "Uh, ladybugs?" I ask. "Yeah!" she yells emphatically. At this point, I've done enough singing to really rile up the girls. I can't shut down the singing now. So, I start the verse, drop in ladybug request and when it comes to the point when they say the sound, everyone is silent.
Crickets. (At least, that would've been a sound.)
I can't think of anything, so I suggest "crawl." "With a crawl, crawl here and a crawl, crawl there..." Not brilliant in the least. But, it's the best my brain could conjure while driving 70 mph past the I-440/I-40 split.
And, now, it's stuck. My kids think the sound a ladybug really makes is "crawl, crawl." Oh well. At least, it's not an explitive or something worse, right?
Thank heavens, interest in Old McDonald's farm generally wanes within about 5 miles of our home, and I can transition into the other twin favorite: "Alice the Camel."
"Mommy, sing camel," pleads Lexie. Avery follows with, "Mommy, FIVE humps. Camel have FIVE humps!"
Counting humps I can do. No problem. Even though I'm a journalism major, and I don't do math. But, if you ask me to imitate the sound a camel makes when it's on the farm, we're going to have issues. At least until I can park in the garage.
Check out this video of the girls singing in the bath tub and totally dissing my Old McDonald song:
Typically, they're most interested in singing "Old McDonald Had a Farm."
"Mommy, sing it!" exclaims Avery from the backseat on the way home from daycare. "Mommy, sing Old McDonald!" I respond, "Oh, I want to hear you sing it." Lexie chimes in, "Nooooo! Mommy sing it!"
At that point, am I going to do? Disappoint my biggest (and only) music fans? Not a chance.
"Ok, which animal is on the farm?" I ask. "Cow!" yells Avery. "Zebra!" shouts Lexie. I pick the cow, because it has an obvious and easy to imitate sound unlike our striped friend, the zebra. I sing most of the words in a slightly off key voice while attempting to cross three lanes of rush hour traffic on I-40 in Raleigh. The twins fill in the pauses.
I lead them: "With a...." "MOO! MOO!" they sing in unison. I jump back in: "here and a..." "MOO! MOO!" they sing again. My turn: "There. Here a..." "MOO!" You get the picture.
This goes on and on and on and on until we run out of normal sounding farm-ish type animals. I gladly embrace the lions, monkeys and dolphins, which I know don't likely live on Old Mickey D's farm, but at least they have good sounds that are easily repeatable. By Mommy. Who's driving.
When we run out of those, the girls always gravitate towards the animals that they see in our many books at home. The ones that don't really make any noise at all. Let me share an example.
"What other animals live on the farm?" I inquire. "Ladybugs!" shouts Lexie from her side of the backseat. "Uh, ladybugs?" I ask. "Yeah!" she yells emphatically. At this point, I've done enough singing to really rile up the girls. I can't shut down the singing now. So, I start the verse, drop in ladybug request and when it comes to the point when they say the sound, everyone is silent.
Crickets. (At least, that would've been a sound.)
I can't think of anything, so I suggest "crawl." "With a crawl, crawl here and a crawl, crawl there..." Not brilliant in the least. But, it's the best my brain could conjure while driving 70 mph past the I-440/I-40 split.
And, now, it's stuck. My kids think the sound a ladybug really makes is "crawl, crawl." Oh well. At least, it's not an explitive or something worse, right?
Thank heavens, interest in Old McDonald's farm generally wanes within about 5 miles of our home, and I can transition into the other twin favorite: "Alice the Camel."
"Mommy, sing camel," pleads Lexie. Avery follows with, "Mommy, FIVE humps. Camel have FIVE humps!"
Counting humps I can do. No problem. Even though I'm a journalism major, and I don't do math. But, if you ask me to imitate the sound a camel makes when it's on the farm, we're going to have issues. At least until I can park in the garage.
Check out this video of the girls singing in the bath tub and totally dissing my Old McDonald song:
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Bum-Bum-Que and Other Delicacies
When you have children in the south, there are certain things that you must expect as you raise them in this culture. Number one: They will say "y'all" at some point. Number two: They will like sweet tea. Number three: They will love barbeque. And, if you are part of our household, there is only one kind of this sweet, tangy meat treat - eastern North Carolina barbeque made with a vinegar base.
I mention this, because Geof brought some home the other night from our favorite local barbeque joint, Knightdale Seafood and Barbeque, and we served it up to the girls for dinner. Accompanied by a variety of other butter-laden sides like mashed potatoes, green beans, macaroni and cheese, and hush puppies, we assumed that Avery and Lexie might poke at the barbeque a little but really chow down on everything else.
Not so.
They dug into the barbeque like it was their job. It was as if their southern roots were guiding their fork to pleasure their 2-year-old palates. Don't get me wrong. They also ate plenty of the other stuff. I'm pretty sure Avery had thirds ("more 'tatoes!") on the mashed spuds and gravy.
Because Geof thankfully thought with his stomach while ordering, he bought enough barbeque to last us for at least a week. Or through the zombie apocalypse. Whichever comes first.
Not wanting to waste any of the delicious delicacy, we served some up to the twins today for lunch. When we put their plates down in front of them, Avery said, "Bum-Bum-Que! Mommy, I have bum-bum-que!" Geof and I started laughing. Of course, Lexie immediately repeated her sister. She wanted in on the laughter, too, even though she didn't quite understand what was so funny.
You see, Geof and I call diaper cream "bum bum cream." So, when they called the barbeque "bum-bum-que," we couldn't help but chuckle.
We tried to correct them, but I'm not sure it sunk in. We fully expect more orders for "bum-bum-que" to come. Thankfully, Chef Mommy knows exactly how to serve that speciality!
I mention this, because Geof brought some home the other night from our favorite local barbeque joint, Knightdale Seafood and Barbeque, and we served it up to the girls for dinner. Accompanied by a variety of other butter-laden sides like mashed potatoes, green beans, macaroni and cheese, and hush puppies, we assumed that Avery and Lexie might poke at the barbeque a little but really chow down on everything else.
Not so.
They dug into the barbeque like it was their job. It was as if their southern roots were guiding their fork to pleasure their 2-year-old palates. Don't get me wrong. They also ate plenty of the other stuff. I'm pretty sure Avery had thirds ("more 'tatoes!") on the mashed spuds and gravy.
Because Geof thankfully thought with his stomach while ordering, he bought enough barbeque to last us for at least a week. Or through the zombie apocalypse. Whichever comes first.
Not wanting to waste any of the delicious delicacy, we served some up to the twins today for lunch. When we put their plates down in front of them, Avery said, "Bum-Bum-Que! Mommy, I have bum-bum-que!" Geof and I started laughing. Of course, Lexie immediately repeated her sister. She wanted in on the laughter, too, even though she didn't quite understand what was so funny.
You see, Geof and I call diaper cream "bum bum cream." So, when they called the barbeque "bum-bum-que," we couldn't help but chuckle.
We tried to correct them, but I'm not sure it sunk in. We fully expect more orders for "bum-bum-que" to come. Thankfully, Chef Mommy knows exactly how to serve that speciality!
Monday, January 16, 2012
Heave! Ho! Ho! Ho! (How the Levines Disposed of the Family Christmas Tree)
When Geof and I started dating, we launched a tradition of always getting a live tree for Christmas. Since then, the only time we've ever deviated from hunting through tree farms or hardware store parking lots for our trusty tannenbaum was in 2010. We were concerned Avery and Lexie - who were barely one year old at that time - would eat the needles. Considering they put everything within grabbing/crawling/toddling distance in their mouths, that was a valid concern. So, we put a short, pre-lit fake tree on a table taller than they were and called it good.
In 2011, however, the possibility of the twins' dining on Douglas fir wasn't nearly as great. Therefore, we reinstated our tree tradition and bought a beautiful 7 footer from the farm down the road. We decked it out with our least prized ornaments (just in case a cat or kid sent them all crashing onto the hardwood floor). It was wonderful to see the twinkling lights on the tree's fresh boughs, and we enjoyed the delightful smell only a real tree can offer.
The girls really loved the tree. Every morning, they would come downstairs and say "Light on. Mommy, tree on!" Same drill after coming home from daycare in the evenings. If we didn't hop to it and flip the switch to turn on the dancing white lights, tantrums would surely ensue. Trust me. No degree of Christmas caroling can effectively drown out my kids yelling in stereo.
Despite the tree's beauty and the girls' fascination with all its decor, there is only so much Christmas clutter that I can take in my house after the happy holiday has passed. My need for organization forces me to instate serious Christmas clean up before the New Year arrives. And, that's exactly what we did.
We took off all the ornaments, unwound strand after strand of lights and put them all in our big (now overflowing) storage boxes. Avery and Lexie "helped," which really means that they took more stuff out of the boxes than they put it them, but they were so proud of themselves in their Santa's helper hats that I couldn't possibly be mad. See!
Don't let their cuteness fool you. I did have to break up one near fight when Lexie tried to wrap up her sister in tissue paper and put her in the box just like "Jesus and his family" from our manger scene. Of all the things I thought I might have to reprimand them for during the packing process, this was not one of them. Oh well... Now I know for next year!
Because the girls had loved the tree so much, we didn't want to tell them, "Yeah, sweeties, we're just gonna chuck it with the trash." The screams would've been deafening. Instead, Geof came up with a brilliant idea: "Let's tell them we're going to take the tree back to its family." Perfect.
Before the sun set on 2011, we bundled up Avery and Lexie in their warmest coats (think Ralphie) and convinced them to wear their new winter hats for a great journey into the woods behind our house. Avery will not keep anything on her head - except maybe a blanket when she's pretending to be a ghost at Halloween and inevitably runs into something - for more than 3 seconds. The fact that she wore the purple hat with the pom pom for the entire outing shows that she would abide by any rules to send the tree off on a high note.
Appropriately dressed for the chill outside, the girls and I watched as Geof heaved our now crunchy Christmas tree through the surprisingly narrow sliding glass door onto the deck. There, the girls paused for a picture with their beloved tree and told it to "go see fa-mah-wee."
The next sight had to be the funniest. Geof was in front carrying our tree like a lumberjack under his arm through the backyard and into the woods. Avery was tottering behind him, but her little legs couldn't quite keep pace with him even though he was toting a very large tree. Lexie was trying to keep up with Avery but managed to find every small hole and trip on it during the pursuit. I was bringing up the rear laughing at everyone and trying to capture the moment on video. I can only imagine what our neighbors were thinking...
Once we finally made it into the thicker tree line of the woods, Geof put down the tree, so the twins could give it nice "pat pats," shower it with kisses and tell it good-bye. At this point, the girls' hats had wiggled down almost over their eyes, and they had to tilt their heads back to see me to yell "Cheese!"
With a final farewell, Geof heaved the tree like a giant javelin into the woods. As luck would have it, the tree landed at an angle against another tree. Geof told the girls, "See, it missed its family, and they're so happy our tree is back home that they're hugging." Well played, Daddy.
The good thing about permanently disposing of your dead Christmas tree in your backyard is that if you're really bored with your kids and can't think of anything else to do to entertain them, you can always go visit the tree and its family. You just have to bundle up first!
In 2011, however, the possibility of the twins' dining on Douglas fir wasn't nearly as great. Therefore, we reinstated our tree tradition and bought a beautiful 7 footer from the farm down the road. We decked it out with our least prized ornaments (just in case a cat or kid sent them all crashing onto the hardwood floor). It was wonderful to see the twinkling lights on the tree's fresh boughs, and we enjoyed the delightful smell only a real tree can offer.
The girls really loved the tree. Every morning, they would come downstairs and say "Light on. Mommy, tree on!" Same drill after coming home from daycare in the evenings. If we didn't hop to it and flip the switch to turn on the dancing white lights, tantrums would surely ensue. Trust me. No degree of Christmas caroling can effectively drown out my kids yelling in stereo.
Despite the tree's beauty and the girls' fascination with all its decor, there is only so much Christmas clutter that I can take in my house after the happy holiday has passed. My need for organization forces me to instate serious Christmas clean up before the New Year arrives. And, that's exactly what we did.
We took off all the ornaments, unwound strand after strand of lights and put them all in our big (now overflowing) storage boxes. Avery and Lexie "helped," which really means that they took more stuff out of the boxes than they put it them, but they were so proud of themselves in their Santa's helper hats that I couldn't possibly be mad. See!
Don't let their cuteness fool you. I did have to break up one near fight when Lexie tried to wrap up her sister in tissue paper and put her in the box just like "Jesus and his family" from our manger scene. Of all the things I thought I might have to reprimand them for during the packing process, this was not one of them. Oh well... Now I know for next year!
Because the girls had loved the tree so much, we didn't want to tell them, "Yeah, sweeties, we're just gonna chuck it with the trash." The screams would've been deafening. Instead, Geof came up with a brilliant idea: "Let's tell them we're going to take the tree back to its family." Perfect.
Before the sun set on 2011, we bundled up Avery and Lexie in their warmest coats (think Ralphie) and convinced them to wear their new winter hats for a great journey into the woods behind our house. Avery will not keep anything on her head - except maybe a blanket when she's pretending to be a ghost at Halloween and inevitably runs into something - for more than 3 seconds. The fact that she wore the purple hat with the pom pom for the entire outing shows that she would abide by any rules to send the tree off on a high note.
Appropriately dressed for the chill outside, the girls and I watched as Geof heaved our now crunchy Christmas tree through the surprisingly narrow sliding glass door onto the deck. There, the girls paused for a picture with their beloved tree and told it to "go see fa-mah-wee."
The next sight had to be the funniest. Geof was in front carrying our tree like a lumberjack under his arm through the backyard and into the woods. Avery was tottering behind him, but her little legs couldn't quite keep pace with him even though he was toting a very large tree. Lexie was trying to keep up with Avery but managed to find every small hole and trip on it during the pursuit. I was bringing up the rear laughing at everyone and trying to capture the moment on video. I can only imagine what our neighbors were thinking...
Once we finally made it into the thicker tree line of the woods, Geof put down the tree, so the twins could give it nice "pat pats," shower it with kisses and tell it good-bye. At this point, the girls' hats had wiggled down almost over their eyes, and they had to tilt their heads back to see me to yell "Cheese!"
With a final farewell, Geof heaved the tree like a giant javelin into the woods. As luck would have it, the tree landed at an angle against another tree. Geof told the girls, "See, it missed its family, and they're so happy our tree is back home that they're hugging." Well played, Daddy.
The good thing about permanently disposing of your dead Christmas tree in your backyard is that if you're really bored with your kids and can't think of anything else to do to entertain them, you can always go visit the tree and its family. You just have to bundle up first!
Friday, January 13, 2012
My New Year's Resolution: The Blog Anti-Diet
I hate New Year's resolutions. Mine are always the same: eat better, exercise more (lifting 25-pound twins doesn't count) and declutter the house. At the end of the year, I never seem any closer to my goals than I was at the beginning. So, for 2012, I'm taking all those traditional items off the list and focusing on one singular, tangible target - to write at least once a week in this blog.
It seems a little sad that the last time I shared a story about my wonderful little girls was in 2010. (Sidebar: At first, when I saw the date on my last post, I thought, "That's not so bad. That was just last year!" Then, I realized, "Oh, wait. That was MORE than a year ago." Math was never my strong suit.)
There are lots of reasons why it's hard to find time to write. Doing nine loads of laundry in a weekend is a good one. Another is when your kitchen floor is so gross that your slipper sticks to it, and you have to use a sandblaster to get the dried apple juice off the floor under your kid's high chair.
The unexpected interruptions never stop. There's never a perfect time to sit down and religiously document my adventures with Avery and Lexie. But, I decided that's what lunch breaks, laptops and wifi are for! People in downtown Raleigh restaurants are definitely quieter than the people dining at my house, and chances are they aren't going to constantly ask me to refill their sippy cups with "nana toot punch." (Translation: Banana fruit punch.)
Plus, if I don't make time to record all of our amazing moments, I'm not going to remember them. It appears that since the girls were born my brain's power to retain anything more than what I need to know for the next 8-10 hours has sizeably shrunk.
I don't want my toddler brain drain to prevent me from telling my future grandchildren funny, embarassing stories about their mommies someday down the road. I mean, really, it would truly be a shame not to remember the time that Avery tried to bumrush the manger scene during the Christmas Eve service at church, because she was obsessed with seeing Joseph, or when Lexie enthusiastically ran from tree to tree in the backyard, hunting for make-believe Oskeebugs from the Yo Gabba Gabba TV show.
Through this blog, I can make sure that I document these stories and many, many others that make us laugh, cry or nearly rip out our hair. So, with that, I do solemnly swear to abide by my New Year's resolution and dedicate time each week for blogging our Wonder Twins story.
It seems a little sad that the last time I shared a story about my wonderful little girls was in 2010. (Sidebar: At first, when I saw the date on my last post, I thought, "That's not so bad. That was just last year!" Then, I realized, "Oh, wait. That was MORE than a year ago." Math was never my strong suit.)
There are lots of reasons why it's hard to find time to write. Doing nine loads of laundry in a weekend is a good one. Another is when your kitchen floor is so gross that your slipper sticks to it, and you have to use a sandblaster to get the dried apple juice off the floor under your kid's high chair.
The unexpected interruptions never stop. There's never a perfect time to sit down and religiously document my adventures with Avery and Lexie. But, I decided that's what lunch breaks, laptops and wifi are for! People in downtown Raleigh restaurants are definitely quieter than the people dining at my house, and chances are they aren't going to constantly ask me to refill their sippy cups with "nana toot punch." (Translation: Banana fruit punch.)
Plus, if I don't make time to record all of our amazing moments, I'm not going to remember them. It appears that since the girls were born my brain's power to retain anything more than what I need to know for the next 8-10 hours has sizeably shrunk.
I don't want my toddler brain drain to prevent me from telling my future grandchildren funny, embarassing stories about their mommies someday down the road. I mean, really, it would truly be a shame not to remember the time that Avery tried to bumrush the manger scene during the Christmas Eve service at church, because she was obsessed with seeing Joseph, or when Lexie enthusiastically ran from tree to tree in the backyard, hunting for make-believe Oskeebugs from the Yo Gabba Gabba TV show.
Through this blog, I can make sure that I document these stories and many, many others that make us laugh, cry or nearly rip out our hair. So, with that, I do solemnly swear to abide by my New Year's resolution and dedicate time each week for blogging our Wonder Twins story.
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