The Dry Erase Board

Written in September, 2008.

My obsessive listing started long before I became pregnant. I typed grocery lists, made lists of books I intended to read and other lists for long-term projects I’d someday get around to, and relied on my daily to-do lists. Even my weekends began with a list: Clean the closet. Take the dog to the park. It provided me with a certain degree of comfort, I suppose, because every time someone marveled at my organization skills, I’d swell with pride and recommit to controlling my world, one crossed off to-do item at a time.

Once I found out I was pregnant with twins, I kicked it into even higher gear. There was the Master Registry List, a spreadsheet compiling all the suggested registry items contained in my books, organized by stores and into categories, designed and edited to fit our family-to-be. I mentally matched gifts to certain people, and when they’d casually ask whether there was anything I particularly wanted, I’d practically recite the item number I’d picked out for them. Nevertheless, we ended up with too many car seats and no preemie outfits.

Then there was my list of 57 things to do before the girls’ birth, divided by items to purchase, work responsibilities to complete, and house organization projects to get underway. It ranged from the relatively easy (“get tile in guest bathroom steam cleaned”) to the overwhelming (“get wills done”). Every week I updated the list, deleting the things I’d completed and invariably adding half a dozen new projects. Finally, when I was 37 weeks pregnant, five days away from my scheduled cesarean section, I relented. Not everything on the list would be completed before the girls were born. I was frustrated that my hugely pregnant frame refused to carry me around quickly and easily, prohibiting me from replacing that hideous sconce in the hallway. To make myself feel better, I created a short list of 18 things to do after the girls were born and tried to relax.

By the time Monkey and Turtle were four weeks old, it felt like I’d had about ten hours of sleep in the previous month. The one task I managed to complete during that time was getting to my attorney’s office to sign my will. Thank God for that, since I was sure I’d soon die from the exhaustion of trying to keep up with my new life. I needed to assert some control over the chaos. So I made another list. It included everything that needed to happen each day, in the order it should happen, from running a load of baby laundry to the six-times-a-day breast-pumping routine to a quick shower for myself. Soon the list became a chart, divided by days of the week, complete with neat boxes and columns. I planned to check off each item as I completed it, review my results on Sunday, revise as needed, and print out a new list for the following week. I was determined to restore order to my life. No more missing my daily vitamins; the dog would not go unfed again. Just consult the list every half hour and it would tell me what to do.

The girls, however, had no respect for my list. One would cry and the other would cry, so I could rarely turn my attention away from them. I soothed one for a couple of minutes and then put her down to pick up the other, only to have the first one start to wail again as soon as she was out of my arms. I tried in vain to manage it all, but when Sunday arrived the number of checked boxes was outnumbered by blank ones. I tried to be satisfied that each feeding and breast-pumping box was checked every day. The girls needed to eat, and I was at least providing them breast milk. We were all surviving, and I could always shower next month.

When the girls were old enough that I no longer needed to obsess over every ounce eaten and every minute slept, I created a simple organizational chart on my dry erase board. In my former life, this big white board hung on the wall of my home office, recording the status of numerous real estate transactions. Now it would guide my days at home with the girls. I propped it on the fireplace hearth and created three neatly divided categories: "Signs We’re Learning," "Foods We’re Eating," and "Things We’re Doing." I allowed the dry erase board to showcase all the ways in which I was enriching the girls’ day.

“Do you really need to write ‘practice crawling’ on the board?” Twin Daddy asked. “Isn’t that something they just do?” I ignored the teasing of friends and family. I needed the board. I was convinced that without it I would just stare off into space while Monkey and Turtle chewed on my shoes.

When Monkey learned to crawl, followed shortly thereafter by Turtle, the disregard for my list only grew. No amount of piano playing or Spanish sing-along CDs was as interesting as pulling up on door hinges, banging on windows, and chewing on houseplants. Gone were the days when they would amuse themselves in their play yard while I cleaned up the breakfast dishes or folded laundry. Now they yelled for release after two minutes of confinement. Monkey got a week-long bleeding diaper rash as a result of the abundance of fibrous vegetables I proudly displayed under "Foods We’re Eating." “She’s not ready for all those foods, you need to go back to basics,” the pediatric nurse advised. Turtle wouldn’t even look at me when I made the sign for “cat” when he walked past, opting instead to lunge after him and pull out his hair in clumps.

The fireplace hearth became a favorite area for both girls to practice climbing and standing, so I looked for another place to prop my dry erase board. As I carried it around, I noticed how many of the words on my once meticulous board were faded or half-erased, that the food and schedule categories hadn’t been updated in weeks, and that I’d given up teaching most of the signs on the list long ago. And that’s when I realized that not only was there no place for the board in my house, but that there was no place for it in my life. The girls’ development is so rapid and dramatic that it takes my breath away. All I really need to do is offer them a bite to eat every couple of hours, stay out of their way, and enjoy the beautiful lives unfolding in front of me.

The laundry sits on the dining room table all week. And that’s okay.

Happy 2nd Birthday, Monkey and Turtle!

More Bits

Mas Tecas! We went to the University Co-op (Longhorn Mecca) Saturday and tried to get Miss Turtle her hat. But do you think she cooperated? She refused to even try them on and when we asked her if she wanted one, she said "NO!" There were only a couple of toddler caps anyway, and we didn't like them, and the store was a chaotic zoo, so we just let it go and got a couple more t-shirts instead. We had a great time, even getting our picture taken with the giant Bevo behind the Co-op. Then, as we drove away from the store, Turtle said, "I need Tecas hat."

Just say NO to Balloons. Monkey is going through a phase where she is afraid of many things. I mentioned before that clowns top the list, and when we see a clown in a book she says "Monkey like clowns. NO." Apparently, a helium balloon floating around the house of its own accord is also quite scary. Think about it - it is kind of creepy how it just bounces around, floating down from the ceiling, moving from room to room, all by itself. Well, Monkey thinks so anyway. The first balloon we brought home deflated overnight while she slept, so she didn't see it happen. She watched the second one (the one we got at Central Market after Turtle fell on the playscape) slowly float out of the skylight in the playroom and bounce around the room and she buried her head in my chest, whining, and wouldn't let me out of her sight. Then last weekend we went to a restaurant and the waitress brought two red balloons to the table. You would have thought she was trying to kidnap Monkey. We had to hide the balloons under the table, under my feet in the car, and then in the utility room when we got home, only presenting them once they were totally deflated and un-scary. So, no birthday balloons this year!

Things are a little hectic around here as we prepare for birthdays, Halloween, and my high school reunion, so I'm keeping it short tonight. Have a great week!

Bits and Pieces

Play Doh: The other day Turtle asked for Play-Doh. I was getting it out of the playroom closet when Monkey approached, hands outstretched. I gave her a canister and turned back to get one for Turtle when I heard Monkey say, “Eat! Eat!” I snapped my head back and said, “Monkey, NO eat, NO eat Play-Doh!” while shaking my head and furrowing my brows. Monkey laughed and said, “Funny.” “We’re you just being funny?” I asked. “Yeah,” she said. “So you know you don’t eat Play-Doh?” “Yeah, funny,” she said, giggling. So that’s it, then. My child knows how to push my buttons, and she thinks it funny.

Texas Longhorns: Nearly every single day, for several weeks now, Turtle has said, “I want Tecas hat.” Last week I tried to get her to wear the very nice red Texas Rangers baseball cap that Uncle C. got her, saying “Here Lily, this is a Texas hat, for the Texas Rangers.” She screamed “No!” flung it off her head, and looked at me like I was the biggest jerk on earth. I swear, I taught the girl one little Hook ‘Em Horns sign and created a fanatic. We're going to the University Co-Op Saturday morning (game day!) to get her a hat and, I'm guessing, a whole lot more.

Tylenol: I have mentioned several times that Monkey is kind of going through something dramatic right now. The other night, while trying to settle her and Turtle during a particularly difficult bedtime routine, I said aloud to Twin Daddy, “I wonder if we should give them some Tylenol?” Monkey immediately started screaming, “MEDICINE, MEDICINE!” That gave me pause, so I offered Oragel instead. Turtle let me rub the Oragel on her gums and settled down immediately, while Monkey grabbed the applicator out of my hand, threw it on the floor, then started throwing her toothbrush, comb, and anything else she could grab from the bathroom counter, all while screaming, “Tylenol! Tylenol!”

We didn’t give her anything, and she went right to sleep once we got her in her crib. Her little addiction/withdrawal scene scared me straight, and I haven’t given her anything since. I think I have traced the real problem back to the fact that she started going to bed a good 20 minutes later once we started “potty time” before bath time, and that seems to have completely thrown her sleep out of whack. We’ve gone back to earlier bedtimes, and now she’s sleeping later in the morning, taking better naps, and she’s less cranky and clingy. Thank you Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child! Your sage advice has been my guiding light for the past 20 months.

Letting Go, Part III: We went to the playground at Central Market last Friday. After a couple of turns around the toddler playscape, Turtle approached the BIG kids playscape. Of course Monkey followed. I tried to put my fears aside and let them have a go. Within 3 minutes Turtle fell on some big steps and bloodied her lip. I scooped them both up and ran back to the safety of the toddler playscape, while my friend E. got some ice from inside. While Turtle nursed her lip I said with a big smile, “Hey girls – do you want to go INSIDE and go GROCERY SHOPPING and get some BIG BALLOONS! Or, [sagging body language] doyouwanttostayoutsideandplay?” They picked the balloons.

Just like Ana!: We used some empty paper towel rolls for a little craft project and once the craft had been destroyed (thank you Monkey), the paper towel rolls were left. One of the girls started using hers as a vacuum cleaner, and the other followed, and soon they were running around the playroom, making "whooshing" noises, and "vaccuming" the chairs, the floor, their toys. I was marveling at their creativity when one of them said, "Ana, Ana!" as she vacuumed a chair. The other caught on, and then it was all "Ana, Ana" and vaccuuming. Ana is the woman who cleans our house every two weeks. She is wonderful and we all like her, but I was embarrassed that they connect vacuuming with Ana and not momma. But what can I say? I don't vaccuum and now I know that they've noticed.

Tiny bits: Turtle counted to 10 tonight, by herself, without prompting. Monkey did a somersault last night, also by herself, without prompting. I did a few push-ups for them during breakfast this morning to explain what I meant by "exercise" when I said, "Mommy's going to exercise while you go to school" (Mother's Day Out). They both clammered to be let out of their booster seats so they could try one. Theirs looks a little more like a yoga pose (downward facing dog), but we'll work on it. Twin Momma may not vaccuum, but she can do a mean push-up.

Websites I like

Twin Momma has been really busy overseeing home improvement projects, organizing my 20 year high school reunion, and avoiding the emotional reality that Turtle and Monkey will be turning 2 in just a few weeks. These big events will all be behind me six weeks from now, just in time to go into my holiday frenzy. In the meantime, Monkey is giving me a frightening preview of how dramatic her adolescence might be, so I’m kind of empty on the “creative” front. To tide you over until I can get it together (next week? Yeah, right) I’ve created this list of websites I visit if I have any time left after the New York Times, Amazon, craigslist, Facebook, and random searches on Google. As you can see, my list is small and narrow. I would LOVE for you to send me your blog link, favorite websites, or whatever, so I can add them as links on this blog (once I figure out how one does that) and start reading something other than Facebook status updates.

http://blog.austinkids.org/?s=spanish
http://www.mommytracked.com/bookshelf/amazon
http://www.votekuhn.com/
http://www.humorwriters.org/
http://safemama.com/
www.cosmeticsdatabase.com/index.php
http://corporette.com/