I was sitting in my office at work the other day when a colleague who happens to have a two-year-old son started talking about their family's bedtime routine. His little boy goes to bed between 6:30 p.m. and 7 p.m.
"What?!" I questioned, shocked at this revelation. "Sometimes, the girls and I don't even get home until almost 6:30 p.m.!"
So begins the story of my mommy marathon.
By "marathon," I do not mean an actual road race with chip times, paper numbers and short shorts made from a high-tech wicking material. (All the hours I spent running in the past are now used to do other kinds of rigorous physical activity like laundry and picking up the playroom. It's also why I will not be wearing a bikini this swimsuit season. I know you're disappointed.)
When I say "marathon," I mean the all-out sprint that begins when I leave work, and race to pick up Avery and Lexie from daycare. This pace doesn't slow down until the twins are in their beds fast asleep. Unless I'm going 90 to nothing with my hair on fire, it will be 10 p.m. before the kiddos are in bed.
That is totally unacceptable. One reason? Tantrum city! No one wants to endure screaming in stereo surround sound from an overtired Avery and Lexie. Another? The later the girls go to bed, the less time I have to watch "Gossip Girl" on DVR. When you only have time to watch one or two programs a week, they become pretty essential. Plus, if the girls ever become members of Manhattan's elite, I really should know how to fit in properly. It's just proactive parenting.
Before I share the play-by-play of my mommy marathon, I should mention the competition between the clock and me only takes place on Mondays and Tuesdays when Geof is working the night shift at the TV station. On these nights, I'm physically outnumbered, so when Avery is throwing a plastic sippy cup off the second floor balcony onto the hardwood floor below and Lexie is climbing diaperless into my bed, I curse his schedule and respond as quickly as possible in priority order to the crises unfolding before me based on which one I think will damage the things I like most. In this particular real-life example, I lunge for Lexie first, because I really like my mattress and do not want it to smell like pee pee.
Here's the rundown:
5:30 p.m. - I pull into daycare, go inside and get the girls off the playground. On the way to the front door, I negotiate a squabble over which girl I hold and which one walks next to me holding my hand.
5:45 p.m. - We get to my car. Instantly, I provide apple juice-filled sippy cups and snack food to the hungry twins. Undoubtedly, Avery will not like what is in her snack cup ("NO! No want any goldfish!"), dump it on the floor in the backseat and lie on top of it screaming for more. I wrestle her off the ground and into her car seat while trying not to look to other daycare parents like this is an abusive situation (I'm using the one getting swatted at, by the way), so they won't call Child Protective Services.
6 p.m. - We drive down I-40 to our house. Avery has typically calmed down by this point. She and Lexie take turns requesting songs on CD and estimating when we'll see the two water towers along our route. I pray silently that Avery will not demand to hear "Frosty the Snowman" since it is now April.
6:15 p.m. - We arrive at home, and I unload the girls from their car seats. Lexie tries to climb the ladder in the garage while Avery asks to bring the basketball into the house. I tell both of them "no" and prod them to the door.
6:25 p.m. - Everyone is finally in the house. The twins clamor to go onto the deck. I agree, so I can start dinner without dodging toys and little people under my feet.
6:40 p.m. - I nuke a typical dinner of protein, two veggies and two fruits. By this point, Avery has likely protested eating a number of the items I'm cooking and has scavenged in the refrigerator for other items I will not cut up for her, because I know she won't eat them, either. I juggle this with moving Lexie from counter to counter in the kitchen, so she can see what I'm doing. "Mommy, see! Mommy, I help!" Hmmmm, can you do dishes?
6:45 p.m. - The twins refuse to eat until I put their plates on their picnic table on the deck. I oblige, because I'm watching the clock, and I know we're running WAY late. They eat until they see our neighbor grilling out on his deck next door. They abandon the picnic table and run to the bench, so they can wave and talk to him. Tick, tick, tick.
6:55 p.m. - Our neighbor goes back inside, and the girls eat a little more before deciding it's time for a game of chase, or as they call it, "Get You!" By this point, they have hidden behind me several times, and my favorite cream-colored dress pants are dotted with black bean juice and hints of green from avocado.
7:15 p.m. - Vitamin selection begins. Avery demands two, even though the bottle says for her to take just one. Knowing an argument will take another 10 minutes, I concede and remind myself to steal it back from her later. Lexie takes five minutes to make her selection and ends up with a "clapper." (See previous post)
7:25 p.m. - Now upstairs, we begin the pursuit of bath time. I ferry Lexie to the potty while I try to prevent Avery from filling the garden tub with cold water only. After collecting 10 plastic food items from the play kitchen in the playroom and dumping them in the water, the girls finally get in. I bathe them at the same time as they splash the walls and me. I am still in my now stained and wet work clothes.
7:40 p.m. - Bath time is over. Towel off and pajama time begins. Like mini nudists, they want no part of it and sprint off in opposite directions totally naked. They ignore my calls to come back to get dressed. Fearing urination on my carpet, I race after the closest one and get her dressed. By this point, the other one has announced, "Mommy, I peed. Mommy, I pee on floor." Groan.
8 p.m. - Everyone is diapered and dressed with hair combed. Now, we begin the toothbrushing battle. I let them try to brush their own teeth and then I jump in to help. The girls like me to sing while I brush for them. Avery requests "Jungle Song." Having no idea what that means, I immediately sing "Welcome to the Jungle." She likes it. Lexie does, too, and wants me to sing it her for, as well.
8:10 p.m. - I nudge the girls into their bedroom and shut the door, reducing their play space and hoping they'll calm down quickly, so we can get to bed. We're already way past the 8 p.m. bedtime I was shooting for. Totally amped up from multiple renditions of Guns N' Roses, they jump up and down on their converted crib beds just like trampolines. They are not interested in my attempts to start story time.
8:20 p.m. - Lexie brings me "trophy book," a kind of Where's Waldo book for toddlers, which she adores and wants to read every, single night. Mommy is sick of "trophy book." Putting my disdain aside, I sit her in my lap and speed through "kitchen" page and the search for 10 hidden cupcakes, hoping I might manage to get the girls in bed before 8:30 p.m.
8:30 p.m. - No luck. I put them into their beds multiple times, and they get out multiple times. Each time, they have a new excuse. "Mommy, I need book," says Lexie. "Sweetie, it's going to be dark in here in a minute, and you won't be able to read it," I explain, trying to counter this popular stall tactic. "Mommy, need book! Other one," Lexie insists. I get the book, cover her up and lean in for a goodnight kiss.
At this moment, Avery walks over, hugs me and says totally unprovoked, "Mommy, I sorry for spilling goldfish crackers. I sorry not getting my seat." I am totally taken aback and speechless for, perhaps, the first time ever. Not only did she remember the terrible tamtrum from about 2.5 hours earlier, but she felt bad about her bad behavior! Wow.
I give her a giant hug and tell her how much I appreciate her apology. For that one minute, I forget that the finish line to my mommy marathon is in sight, and I am very close to ending my competition with the clock. I shower Avery with kisses and put her into bed with her beloved "red blanket."
8:45 p.m. - Hearing only muffled protests, I turn off the light and slide out of the room while softly telling the girls how much I love them.
The race to bedtime at my house is long and crazy, and sometimes, it feels like it will never actually end. Just like in a real marathon, quitting isn't an option. I have to see it through even though some of the steps along the way might be painful, frustrating or involve unexpected potty breaks. But, in the end, it's worth it. I may not get a medal or a beer from an event sponsor, but ocassionally, I get a "thank you" or an "I'm sorry," and those sweet words are my own prize, helping melt away the stress and tense moments and energizing me to do it all over again the next night.
Oh, and remember that guy whose son goes to bed as early as 6:30 p.m.? I failed to mention that he also gets up at 5:30 a.m. - even on weekends. I'll take my long nights over early mornings any day!
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Funny Little Things
The girls do and say funny things all the time. If my Mommy brain wasn't cluttered already with mental Post-It notes, I'd blog about them every day. Unfortunately, I can't always remember them all. Today, I'm making an attempt to record a few of these moments, so when the twins are both melting down at glass-shattering volumes, I can look back and smile.
Moment #1: People ask me all the time if Avery and Alexa have their own secret twin language that only they understand. The quick answer is not really. When they were little, they would pull up on their cribs and babble back and forth at each other.
It wasn't structured like a true conversation. Avery: "Babble, babble, babble." (Pause) Lexie: "Babble, babble, babbble." They both babbled at the same time. It was very cute... and also a sign of what is likely to come when they start wanting to talk to boys on the phone. Argh.
But, now, Lexie has developed her own unique word that she uses at mealtime. As best I can tell, it's pronounced "DAY-der." I have no idea what "day-der" means or if I'm even pronouncing it correctly. Whenever I ask Lexie what she's talking about, all she does is say it louder and giggle. "DAY-DER!"
When I consulted with Avery to see if she knew what "day-der" meant, she responded by asking her sister, "What 'day-der' mean, Wex?" The answer? Boiterous laughter from both girls.
I sense "day-der" might be a term created to tease and drive Mommy crazy. One of these days, I'll find out its true definition. It will probably be something ridiculous and totally unrelated to eating like "tool box" or "lithium battery."
Moment #2: The twins love providing commentary about the scenery they see on our car rides home from daycare, church, the store or any other place outside of our neighborhood. Their most recent obsession is discussing in great detail the series of water towers that we pass on our route home.
As soon as we get on I-40, Avery will exclaim, "Mommy, we're almost to blue water tower!" The blue water tower is located alongside U.S. 264 at the Hodge Road exit. That's a good 10 minutes from the Gorman Road on ramp to I-40. That's 10 minutes that the anticipation builds in my backseat to see the giant white and blue cylinder that juts high above the treeline.
To Avery and Lexie, the blue water tower is the most exciting inanimate object ever built. As soon as we curve around the bypass and it comes into view, Avery shouts, "Wexie, wook! Blue water tower!" Lexie usually responds with, "It say 'Knightdale!'"
Yes, in fact, it does say "Knightdale," the name of our town.
After we pass it, the girls lament that it is "back there" and then turn their focus to the second water tower on the ride home, the huge white one at the entrance to our neighborhood.
"It say Wokbridge," states Avery. Rockbridge is the name of our 'hood. "Not home yet," says Lexie.
We've trained them that when they see the white water tower, they're almost home. That way, if they ever get lost in the woods and don't have MacGyver to lead them home with duct tape and twigs, they can at least look up and get their bearings. It's much better than what I told myself as a kid: "Follow the creek. It will lead you home." Yeah, right.
Once we pull into the garage, the twins demand to go on the deck, so they can point to the water tower some more. Perhaps, this means they have a future in water studies? Or, maybe bad architecture? Not sure yet.
Moment #3: It's crass, I know. But, it's still funny to our juvenile senses of humor. Whenever Avery or Lexie passes gas, they scream, "(Name) TOOT!" Then, they explode into laughter.
Sometimes, their farts really are manly, which makes the exclamations all the more hilarious. I will take it as a sign that they're eating a sufficient amount of vegetables and hope they don't do it in during the quiet pauses at church.
Moment #1: People ask me all the time if Avery and Alexa have their own secret twin language that only they understand. The quick answer is not really. When they were little, they would pull up on their cribs and babble back and forth at each other.
It wasn't structured like a true conversation. Avery: "Babble, babble, babble." (Pause) Lexie: "Babble, babble, babbble." They both babbled at the same time. It was very cute... and also a sign of what is likely to come when they start wanting to talk to boys on the phone. Argh.
But, now, Lexie has developed her own unique word that she uses at mealtime. As best I can tell, it's pronounced "DAY-der." I have no idea what "day-der" means or if I'm even pronouncing it correctly. Whenever I ask Lexie what she's talking about, all she does is say it louder and giggle. "DAY-DER!"
When I consulted with Avery to see if she knew what "day-der" meant, she responded by asking her sister, "What 'day-der' mean, Wex?" The answer? Boiterous laughter from both girls.
I sense "day-der" might be a term created to tease and drive Mommy crazy. One of these days, I'll find out its true definition. It will probably be something ridiculous and totally unrelated to eating like "tool box" or "lithium battery."
Moment #2: The twins love providing commentary about the scenery they see on our car rides home from daycare, church, the store or any other place outside of our neighborhood. Their most recent obsession is discussing in great detail the series of water towers that we pass on our route home.
As soon as we get on I-40, Avery will exclaim, "Mommy, we're almost to blue water tower!" The blue water tower is located alongside U.S. 264 at the Hodge Road exit. That's a good 10 minutes from the Gorman Road on ramp to I-40. That's 10 minutes that the anticipation builds in my backseat to see the giant white and blue cylinder that juts high above the treeline.
To Avery and Lexie, the blue water tower is the most exciting inanimate object ever built. As soon as we curve around the bypass and it comes into view, Avery shouts, "Wexie, wook! Blue water tower!" Lexie usually responds with, "It say 'Knightdale!'"
Yes, in fact, it does say "Knightdale," the name of our town.
After we pass it, the girls lament that it is "back there" and then turn their focus to the second water tower on the ride home, the huge white one at the entrance to our neighborhood.
"It say Wokbridge," states Avery. Rockbridge is the name of our 'hood. "Not home yet," says Lexie.
We've trained them that when they see the white water tower, they're almost home. That way, if they ever get lost in the woods and don't have MacGyver to lead them home with duct tape and twigs, they can at least look up and get their bearings. It's much better than what I told myself as a kid: "Follow the creek. It will lead you home." Yeah, right.
Once we pull into the garage, the twins demand to go on the deck, so they can point to the water tower some more. Perhaps, this means they have a future in water studies? Or, maybe bad architecture? Not sure yet.
Moment #3: It's crass, I know. But, it's still funny to our juvenile senses of humor. Whenever Avery or Lexie passes gas, they scream, "(Name) TOOT!" Then, they explode into laughter.
Sometimes, their farts really are manly, which makes the exclamations all the more hilarious. I will take it as a sign that they're eating a sufficient amount of vegetables and hope they don't do it in during the quiet pauses at church.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Food Fight!
This blog post is supposed to be about eating. Somehow, though, I think it's going to end up being about tantrums. Just a warning.
For weeks, I've wanted to write about how well the twins eat. When I say they will consume anything, that is not a lie. For instance, Lexie ate cat food Sunday. (Disclaimer: I didn't serve it to her on one of her colorful Ikea plates, I swear. She grabbed it out of Stella's food bowl in the kitchen and started crunching it until Avery told on her. At that point, I made her spit it out and launched into a thorough explanation of how cat food really is just for cats. At least, it wasn't cat poop.)
The girls eat all the things you'd expect little kids to devour: chicken nuggets, spaghetti, macaroni and cheese, fish sticks and mashed potatoes. But, they also love more diverse stuff like avocado, black olives, cauliflower, peas, lima beans, cherry tomatoes, black beans, blueberries, kiwi, plums, wild rice, casseroles and that polenta-based dinner in a bag from Trader Joe's.
I'm fairly certain I didn't eat "ah-cado" as they call it until I was in my mid-20s. Yes, I realize I lived a sheltered life before then. But, seriously, are you surprised? This is coming from a girl who would only eat three rotating packed lunches - peanut butter crackers, cheese crackers or soup in a Thermos - until she was in middle school.
That said, I'm glad the girls don't have particular palates. Getting them to dine on the recommended five fruits and five veggies a day is no major task. I've often thought that if Geof and I would eat more like Avery and Lexie we'd be a lot healthier. Unfortunately, Geof likes hamburgers and french fries too much to strictly follow their diet.
The family dining experience has been going great. When we'd sit down at the dinner table, they'd say, "We all eat together!" or "Thank you, Mommy, for making biscuits" without any prodding. The girls would clean their plates, and as a reward, they could have one pink and one white iced animal cookie. You know, the ones from the dollar bin at Target. I thought we had a good mealtime routine down.
Until last week.
I'm not sure if it's Avery's recent infection or the fact that we've likely done something to upset the toddler version of Karma, but something has caused the twins, especially Avery, to become defiant little monkeys. The times when they are most likely to put up a fight are at mealtime and bedtime. You'll know, because you'll hear "NOOOOOOOO!" echoing in stereo from our house.
Avery who was once a role model for 2-year-old eaters everywhere will now kick, scream and contort her body in any way possible to avoid sitting in her chair. Even when I've made exactly what she's requested to eat. Her protests aren't just vocal. The other day, she snatched up two fistfulls of noodles and tossed them on the kitchen floor. My reaction probably looked a lot like a volcanic eruption.
This is another reason why I believe Avery will spend the majority of her younger years in Time Out.
Lexie has not shown resistance to quite that degree, but she usually does exactly what big sis does. So, I'm sure it's coming soon. Last night, she refused to eat her gnocchi, but at least, she didn't throw it at me.
Clearly, doctors and child development experts call this stage the Terrible 2s for a reason. But, when you have the Terrible 2s times two, it's more stressful and requires more restraint to keep yourself from booking a one-way ticket to a tropical island.
I know the girls are testing their limits and exerting their individuality. Okay, great. But, if they could just do it at a lower decibel level and not include physical actions that require me to mop the floor, it would be much appreciated.
Until this stage passes, I guess I'll just pray for patience and know that any avocados they don't eat just means more for Mommy and Daddy!
For weeks, I've wanted to write about how well the twins eat. When I say they will consume anything, that is not a lie. For instance, Lexie ate cat food Sunday. (Disclaimer: I didn't serve it to her on one of her colorful Ikea plates, I swear. She grabbed it out of Stella's food bowl in the kitchen and started crunching it until Avery told on her. At that point, I made her spit it out and launched into a thorough explanation of how cat food really is just for cats. At least, it wasn't cat poop.)
The girls eat all the things you'd expect little kids to devour: chicken nuggets, spaghetti, macaroni and cheese, fish sticks and mashed potatoes. But, they also love more diverse stuff like avocado, black olives, cauliflower, peas, lima beans, cherry tomatoes, black beans, blueberries, kiwi, plums, wild rice, casseroles and that polenta-based dinner in a bag from Trader Joe's.
I'm fairly certain I didn't eat "ah-cado" as they call it until I was in my mid-20s. Yes, I realize I lived a sheltered life before then. But, seriously, are you surprised? This is coming from a girl who would only eat three rotating packed lunches - peanut butter crackers, cheese crackers or soup in a Thermos - until she was in middle school.
That said, I'm glad the girls don't have particular palates. Getting them to dine on the recommended five fruits and five veggies a day is no major task. I've often thought that if Geof and I would eat more like Avery and Lexie we'd be a lot healthier. Unfortunately, Geof likes hamburgers and french fries too much to strictly follow their diet.
The family dining experience has been going great. When we'd sit down at the dinner table, they'd say, "We all eat together!" or "Thank you, Mommy, for making biscuits" without any prodding. The girls would clean their plates, and as a reward, they could have one pink and one white iced animal cookie. You know, the ones from the dollar bin at Target. I thought we had a good mealtime routine down.
Until last week.
I'm not sure if it's Avery's recent infection or the fact that we've likely done something to upset the toddler version of Karma, but something has caused the twins, especially Avery, to become defiant little monkeys. The times when they are most likely to put up a fight are at mealtime and bedtime. You'll know, because you'll hear "NOOOOOOOO!" echoing in stereo from our house.
Avery who was once a role model for 2-year-old eaters everywhere will now kick, scream and contort her body in any way possible to avoid sitting in her chair. Even when I've made exactly what she's requested to eat. Her protests aren't just vocal. The other day, she snatched up two fistfulls of noodles and tossed them on the kitchen floor. My reaction probably looked a lot like a volcanic eruption.
This is another reason why I believe Avery will spend the majority of her younger years in Time Out.
Lexie has not shown resistance to quite that degree, but she usually does exactly what big sis does. So, I'm sure it's coming soon. Last night, she refused to eat her gnocchi, but at least, she didn't throw it at me.
Clearly, doctors and child development experts call this stage the Terrible 2s for a reason. But, when you have the Terrible 2s times two, it's more stressful and requires more restraint to keep yourself from booking a one-way ticket to a tropical island.
I know the girls are testing their limits and exerting their individuality. Okay, great. But, if they could just do it at a lower decibel level and not include physical actions that require me to mop the floor, it would be much appreciated.
Until this stage passes, I guess I'll just pray for patience and know that any avocados they don't eat just means more for Mommy and Daddy!
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Dear Dara: An advice column
Before we had Avery and Lexie, my childrearing skills were pretty much non-existent. I had only babysat a few times, and those kids were old enough to put on their own pajamas and brush their own teeth. I had zero real-life knowledge of what to do with an infant. In fact, I had never even changed a diaper! This just spells Mom of the Year in the making, doesn't it?
Two years later, I still don't claim to know it all, but I have learned a lot from the good things I've tried and the mistakes I've made along the journey.
Last night is a good example. I dropped a bunch of the girls' chewable vitamins on the floor and said "Crap!" I didn't even realize I'd uttered the word until I asked Lexie if she wanted the purple hippo vitamin or the orange lion vitamin. She responded, "No. I want cwap." Not making the connection, I said, "What?" Lexie repeated, "I want cwap one." Inside my head, I said, "Oh, @#$%..." and made up a big lie to cover my tracks. "It's not 'crap'," I said. "It's clap. There's a kind of lion called a clapper. Do you want a clapper?" Giggles. "Yes, Mommy! Cwapper!"
Yes, I do realize this fib will haunt me for days if not longer. But, that's better than having a two-year-old requesting a crap-flavored vitamin, isn't it? I firmly believe in this case the ends justified the means. Or, it was the best my panicked mommy brain could come up with at the time.
I'm going to share random insights like these with a fellow mommy from our childbirth class at Rex Hospital. She emailed recently to announce that she's expecting boy-boy twins and wanted my advice. Knowing that she already has a 2-year-old boy, my first thought was (no surprise) "holy crap!"
We're having lunch on Friday, and I've been pondering what exactly to tell her to prepare her for the whirlwind that is twins. Here's what I've come up with so far:
1. There's a reason our family motto is "Twice the fun, twice the crazy!" There will no longer be such a thing as a normal day at your house once you have twins, so don't expect it. Wake up each morning with the mindset that you are up for anything, and you'll never get frustrated. Or threaten to sell your kids on eBay.
2. Always allow yourself an extra hour to get to any appointment. Remember, you're having twins, so you have to do everything twice. It sounds easy. Until you actually do it. At our house, we're trying to potty train. The star chart is up, and Avery and Lexie can earn stars for trying, going, flushing and washing hands. Smart, right? Not if you're about to leave for church on a Sunday morning. A last-minute trip to the bathroom means two last-minute trips to the bathroom, because one will not allow the other to out-star her. That's two turns on the potty, two races down the hallway to catch bare-bottomed babes and force them to put on new diapers, two fights over putting their shoes back on and two negotiations over where the stars will go on the star charts. After all this, we're certain to miss the entire beginning of the service. If you ever wondered why the twins go to the nursery at church, it's because Mommy and Daddy are exhausted.
3. Get a whistle and a striped shirt, because you're about to become an all-star referee. A friend who's a twin once told me that twins love hard and fight hard. No truer words have ever been spoken. I have broken up fights that rival WWE matches over something as silly as a sock. "Mine!" "No, mine!" I firmly believe that Avery, our more dominant little girl, will spend the bulk of her younger years in Time Out. Lexie will continue crying over spilled milk, juice or anything else she finds offending until she starts wearing mascara and it runs all down her face. (She's not much for getting dirty.)
On the flip side, though, they share an incredible bond that can best be explained by actions, not words. They hold each other's hand, share with one another without me even asking and get concerned when "sissy" isn't in the same room. If you ask Avery who her best friend is, she'll say "Wexie." If you ask Lexie the same question, she'll reply, "Avwey." Makes your heart melt, doesn't it?
Geof and I have concluded that although there are many, many challenges with raising multiples, there are even more amazing moments that we wouldn't trade for the world. Plus, what would we do with all that spare time if we'd only had one kid? Psch... too easy! :)
Two years later, I still don't claim to know it all, but I have learned a lot from the good things I've tried and the mistakes I've made along the journey.
Last night is a good example. I dropped a bunch of the girls' chewable vitamins on the floor and said "Crap!" I didn't even realize I'd uttered the word until I asked Lexie if she wanted the purple hippo vitamin or the orange lion vitamin. She responded, "No. I want cwap." Not making the connection, I said, "What?" Lexie repeated, "I want cwap one." Inside my head, I said, "Oh, @#$%..." and made up a big lie to cover my tracks. "It's not 'crap'," I said. "It's clap. There's a kind of lion called a clapper. Do you want a clapper?" Giggles. "Yes, Mommy! Cwapper!"
Yes, I do realize this fib will haunt me for days if not longer. But, that's better than having a two-year-old requesting a crap-flavored vitamin, isn't it? I firmly believe in this case the ends justified the means. Or, it was the best my panicked mommy brain could come up with at the time.
I'm going to share random insights like these with a fellow mommy from our childbirth class at Rex Hospital. She emailed recently to announce that she's expecting boy-boy twins and wanted my advice. Knowing that she already has a 2-year-old boy, my first thought was (no surprise) "holy crap!"
We're having lunch on Friday, and I've been pondering what exactly to tell her to prepare her for the whirlwind that is twins. Here's what I've come up with so far:
1. There's a reason our family motto is "Twice the fun, twice the crazy!" There will no longer be such a thing as a normal day at your house once you have twins, so don't expect it. Wake up each morning with the mindset that you are up for anything, and you'll never get frustrated. Or threaten to sell your kids on eBay.
2. Always allow yourself an extra hour to get to any appointment. Remember, you're having twins, so you have to do everything twice. It sounds easy. Until you actually do it. At our house, we're trying to potty train. The star chart is up, and Avery and Lexie can earn stars for trying, going, flushing and washing hands. Smart, right? Not if you're about to leave for church on a Sunday morning. A last-minute trip to the bathroom means two last-minute trips to the bathroom, because one will not allow the other to out-star her. That's two turns on the potty, two races down the hallway to catch bare-bottomed babes and force them to put on new diapers, two fights over putting their shoes back on and two negotiations over where the stars will go on the star charts. After all this, we're certain to miss the entire beginning of the service. If you ever wondered why the twins go to the nursery at church, it's because Mommy and Daddy are exhausted.
3. Get a whistle and a striped shirt, because you're about to become an all-star referee. A friend who's a twin once told me that twins love hard and fight hard. No truer words have ever been spoken. I have broken up fights that rival WWE matches over something as silly as a sock. "Mine!" "No, mine!" I firmly believe that Avery, our more dominant little girl, will spend the bulk of her younger years in Time Out. Lexie will continue crying over spilled milk, juice or anything else she finds offending until she starts wearing mascara and it runs all down her face. (She's not much for getting dirty.)
On the flip side, though, they share an incredible bond that can best be explained by actions, not words. They hold each other's hand, share with one another without me even asking and get concerned when "sissy" isn't in the same room. If you ask Avery who her best friend is, she'll say "Wexie." If you ask Lexie the same question, she'll reply, "Avwey." Makes your heart melt, doesn't it?
Geof and I have concluded that although there are many, many challenges with raising multiples, there are even more amazing moments that we wouldn't trade for the world. Plus, what would we do with all that spare time if we'd only had one kid? Psch... too easy! :)
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Mommy's Other Name
Avery and Lexie call me "Mommy." No surprise there. It's what most little kids call their mother. But, it didn't occur to me until last week that they might know I have a legal name, too.
This realization came in the playroom at our house one evening just before "night night." Lexie walked over to me, held up a domino and said, "I have Deeeemi!"
I looked at her with a slightly confused expression on my face. "What?" I asked, thinking that surely she had not just said my last name.
Lexie put the domino up to her ear just like a cell phone and exclaimed, "I talking to Dara Deeeeeemi!"
Geof and I immediately looked at each other and started laughing. This was incredibly funny to us, because we've never had a conversation to explain that Daddy is Geof and Mommy is Dara. What was the point? We always refer to each other by our parental names. And, seriously, the twins are only two years old. It's not like they're going to be filling out medical forms or school permission slips yet. Why would they need to know?
Well, somehow, Lexie figured it out, and our laughter made Avery want to join in the name game fun. Monkey see, monkey do! They both took turns shouting "I want to talk to Deeeeeemi!" in between rounds of loud giggles.
After pondering the source of this outburst, I finally came to the conclusion that they must have paid attention when I was on call for NCDOT recently during two major incidents: a rockslide in the North Carolina mountains and a snow storm that blanketed many parts of the state. (Yes, I realize natural disasters seem to eerily coincide with when I'm on call. Awesome. Watch out for hurricane season!) I spent a lot of time during those weekends talking to reporters - including the one working with Geof - on the phone. The girls who desperately wanted me to stop working and play "destroy the house" with them must have overhead me and replicated the professional way in which I greeted the callers.
If anything, they deserve props for actually pronouncing my name correctly. Ninety percent of the adult population can't seem to master it, so clearly, they're going to be genuises if they can manage it at age 2. I mean, really, it's only eight letters combined. And, it doesn't sound anything at all like "Darin" or "Daria." For the record, I'm also not related to Demi Moore as some have inquired in the past. Sigh...
I thought this whole "Dara Demi" obsession would end that night when we tucked the girls in, and they drifted off to dreamland. Nope. It's an every night thing. Except now it's shifted into song.
The girls aren't really able to do a thorough job brushing their teeth on their own, so we let them try first and then we help them complete the task. They won't hand over their toothbrushes unless we sing them a song. It started with singing "Happy Birthday" to Dora and Elmo, the characters on their brushes. But, this week, that changed.
"Mommy, sing Demi song," requested Lexie.
Oh great, I thought. I had no idea what "Demi song" was, but I definitely knew that if I didn't make one up soon, Lexie and Avery would not let me bat clean-up during the evening brushing routine.
The things I do for good dental hygiene.
I made up a horrendous song that goes like this: "Daaaara Deeeeemi. She-eeee-eee love-uh-uhvs you! Daaaaara Deeeemi. She-eeee-eee is your Mommy, too-ooo."
Of course, they loved it. Now, they demand that I sing it every night during teeth brushing time. My worst fear is that I'm going to forget the words and the off-pitch tune, and the girls' teeth will decay and fall out, because they will except no musical substitutions.
So far, I've managed to file it away in my Mommy brain with the other silly songs I've created about Thomas the Train and Pooh Bear (which Avery adamantly refers to as "Cooh Bear.") I may not be the next Scotty McCreery, but at least, my kids' chompers are clean.
I'm looking forward to trading the first/last name interest for a consistant "Mommy." I like it better. And, I've never heard anyone mispronounce it.
This realization came in the playroom at our house one evening just before "night night." Lexie walked over to me, held up a domino and said, "I have Deeeemi!"
I looked at her with a slightly confused expression on my face. "What?" I asked, thinking that surely she had not just said my last name.
Lexie put the domino up to her ear just like a cell phone and exclaimed, "I talking to Dara Deeeeeemi!"
Geof and I immediately looked at each other and started laughing. This was incredibly funny to us, because we've never had a conversation to explain that Daddy is Geof and Mommy is Dara. What was the point? We always refer to each other by our parental names. And, seriously, the twins are only two years old. It's not like they're going to be filling out medical forms or school permission slips yet. Why would they need to know?
Well, somehow, Lexie figured it out, and our laughter made Avery want to join in the name game fun. Monkey see, monkey do! They both took turns shouting "I want to talk to Deeeeeemi!" in between rounds of loud giggles.
After pondering the source of this outburst, I finally came to the conclusion that they must have paid attention when I was on call for NCDOT recently during two major incidents: a rockslide in the North Carolina mountains and a snow storm that blanketed many parts of the state. (Yes, I realize natural disasters seem to eerily coincide with when I'm on call. Awesome. Watch out for hurricane season!) I spent a lot of time during those weekends talking to reporters - including the one working with Geof - on the phone. The girls who desperately wanted me to stop working and play "destroy the house" with them must have overhead me and replicated the professional way in which I greeted the callers.
If anything, they deserve props for actually pronouncing my name correctly. Ninety percent of the adult population can't seem to master it, so clearly, they're going to be genuises if they can manage it at age 2. I mean, really, it's only eight letters combined. And, it doesn't sound anything at all like "Darin" or "Daria." For the record, I'm also not related to Demi Moore as some have inquired in the past. Sigh...
I thought this whole "Dara Demi" obsession would end that night when we tucked the girls in, and they drifted off to dreamland. Nope. It's an every night thing. Except now it's shifted into song.
The girls aren't really able to do a thorough job brushing their teeth on their own, so we let them try first and then we help them complete the task. They won't hand over their toothbrushes unless we sing them a song. It started with singing "Happy Birthday" to Dora and Elmo, the characters on their brushes. But, this week, that changed.
"Mommy, sing Demi song," requested Lexie.
Oh great, I thought. I had no idea what "Demi song" was, but I definitely knew that if I didn't make one up soon, Lexie and Avery would not let me bat clean-up during the evening brushing routine.
The things I do for good dental hygiene.
I made up a horrendous song that goes like this: "Daaaara Deeeeemi. She-eeee-eee love-uh-uhvs you! Daaaaara Deeeemi. She-eeee-eee is your Mommy, too-ooo."
Of course, they loved it. Now, they demand that I sing it every night during teeth brushing time. My worst fear is that I'm going to forget the words and the off-pitch tune, and the girls' teeth will decay and fall out, because they will except no musical substitutions.
So far, I've managed to file it away in my Mommy brain with the other silly songs I've created about Thomas the Train and Pooh Bear (which Avery adamantly refers to as "Cooh Bear.") I may not be the next Scotty McCreery, but at least, my kids' chompers are clean.
I'm looking forward to trading the first/last name interest for a consistant "Mommy." I like it better. And, I've never heard anyone mispronounce it.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
They're All "Growns Up"
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.
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.
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.
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