Lotion, anyone?

This afternoon the girls were so involved with their play in the playroom that I thought I could take five minutes to get online in the office and pay some bills. Five minutes later, I realized it was eerily quiet. Then the phone rang and as I ran around looking for the phone I saw no sign of the girls in the living areas - - a sure sign they were Up To Something. I answered the phone (it was Aunt V.) and was headed towards my bathroom (the place they always go to get Up To Something) when Turtle came running out, guilty look on her face and hands covered with a thick layer of lotion. I quickly got off the phone, pulled the lotion off her hands and rubbed it into my own, and sent her on her way. Then I went into my bathroom and saw Monkey standing there, her hands even MORE thickly covered with lotion, saying, "Mommy, I want to wash my hands." I glanced at the counter to see which lotion they got into - the body lotion? The hand cream?

No. It was my tiny $36 jar of Origins Night-A-Mins. "No, no, no," I groaned as I realized that Monkey had a good $12 worth of expensive night cream on her hands, and that I had just rubbed a few more dollars worth into my own. "I want to wash my hands, Mommy," she said again. "I don't think so," I thought to myself. I pulled it off her hands and desperately slathered it all over my neck and décolletage, trying to soak in every bit and cursing myself for having the nerve to get on the computer in the first place.

Catching up

I thought I'd better post something before you decided that I've given up by blog altogether. Every day something funny, amazing, and mortifying happens and every day I think "wow I should put that in my blog," and now I'm so behind that I've gotten overwhelmed at the thought of catching up.

So, rather than even try to catch up, I'll just tell you this one funny little story from September that has stuck in my mind.

I took Turtle and Monkey to the Carter's (children's) store for fall clothes. Normally I wouldn't take them with me, but when I brought home summer clothes for Turtle earlier this year, she pretty much refused to wear anything I bought. So, I figured I should seek her input this time.

I picked out a dress from the rack and called her over, "Turtle, come here!"

She ran over. "Yes, mommy?"

"Is this something you think you'd like to wear?" I asked, holding up the dress.

Turtle looked at the dress, transformed into a 13-year-old before my eyes, looked at me like I was a moron, and said, "Not EVER!"

I put it back on the rack and moved in the other direction so she wouldn't see me burst out laughing.

Diversity 101

On Halloween night, after we went trick-or-treating, Turtle and Monkey helped me pass out candy at our house. One of our first visitors was a large group of Hispanic children ranging from babies to pre-teens, along with a couple of adults. After I closed the door behind them, Turtle said, "Mommy, those were your cousins!"

I explained that while their skin was dark brown like lots of people in my family, they were not OUR cousins but were other Mexican-American people, of which there are quite many.

Shortly after that, a young-ish Chinese couple brought their 2-year-old daughter to the door. When they left, Turtle said, "Mommy, I didn't like them. Their eyes were closed."

We spent the rest of the evening in cultural awareness training.

Happy 3rd Birthday Turtle and Monkey!

We have been celebrating the girls' birthday for the last two days! October 22 was the actual day, and today was their birthday party. This was the first real birthday party we've had for them, and it was a smashing success if I do say so myself. We had a pumpkin decorating craft project, followed by playtime, then pizza lunch, cake and singing, and then a pinata finale. There were no meltdowns by anyone as far as I can tell (out of 17 kids!), and no one got hit in the head by the pinata stick, so I would say it was a pretty darn good party. The girls have really enjoyed all of it, and are looking forward to tomorrow, when the birthday celebration continues with leftover cake and more than a dozen unopened presents left from today's festivities.

I really enjoyed all of it myself, too, and I feel that I'm maturing and relaxing (just a tiny bit) into my role as the mother of preschoolers.

Trip Review: Cameron Park Zoo

Last Friday, I drove Turtle and Monkey to Waco to meet up with Mimi for a birthday lunch and a trip to the Cameron Park Zoo. It was the farthest I have ever driven the girls by myself, and it was kind of a test to see if I could actually manage that kind of trip. I did. The biggest hassles getting there were dealing with a finicky portable DVD player (including a stop about 20 minutes short of Waco because I couldn't handle the screams resulting from the malfunctioning player), and stopping to go to the potty three minutes after I pulled out of the gas station north of Georgetown. This happened despite my asking repeatedly during the gas stop if anyone needed to go potty. I'd forgotten to pack drinks for the trip (which didn't seem to bother anyone), so I believed them when they said they didn't need to go potty. Then as soon as I got on the highway, Turtle said, "Mommy, I have to go potty." I clenched my teeth and looked for a good place to stop and . . . surprise! There is a really awesome rest area just south of Salado! It has great parking, a playscape (unshaded), a very nice bathroom, a designated dog walking area, vending machines, and even a storm shelter. It is officially called, "Bell County Safety Rest Area," and I was glad Turtle's delayed potty request allowed me to "discover" it.

If anyone is counting, yes, that is three full stops - one for gas, one for potty, and one for DVD player troubleshooting - in the 100 miles to Waco. That doesn't count the stop at the bank on the corner as we left the house, and the trip back to the house after the bank to get my forgotten sunglasses. So a mere 2.5 hours after we left our house, we pulled into the Ninfa's parking lot for a yummy lunch.

The Cameron Park Zoo was a very short drive from the restaurant, and we arrived around 12:45PM. Right off the bat, I was surprised by how easy it was to park. There weren't many visitors, I guess since it was the middle of a rather warm weekday, and the walk from the car to the entrance was easier than dealing with my local HEB on a slow day. It was that easy to get in. There was one small family in front of us in the one line to get in, and a pleasant and competent ticket seller to assist us. At that point, I was still under the delusion that this was a rinky little operation, so while I was pleasantly surprised with the speed and ease of entry, I didn't expect much in the way of animals.

Three Galapagos Tortoises, two giraffes, three lions, two elephants, two rhinos, a few orangutans, a tiger, a Kimodo Dragon, and a visit to Lemur Island later, I declared it the best zoo I'd ever visited. It's not just because you are so close to the animals in such lovely, natural habitats. It's that it is very thoughtfully planned, with play areas for children, well-placed air-conditioned bathrooms, a simple circular path, and an apparent focus on featuring a smaller number of animals really well. We went through the entire zoo in less than 3 hours and saw the whole thing, which gave me a real sense of satisfaction - I don't think I've ever been able to see every animal in a zoo all in one day, even before I had kids, much less in three hours. I would call it a "boutique zoo" and it was really lovely.

Of course, in retrospect, and after allowing the flames of passion to cool a bit, I have to admit that other zoos I've visited (the San Diego Zoo and the National Zoo, for example), are probably objectively "better" zoos and so maybe Cameron Park isn't the best zoo on earth. But it is really excellent when you're pulling two almost-three-year-olds around in a red Radio Flyer wagon. The girls were pretty blase about the whole thing, but I'm still excited about my new favorite day trip from Austin.

Details:

Cameron Park Zoo

www.cameronparkzoo.com

1701 North 4th Street, Waco, Texas, 76707; (254) 750-8400.

Open Monday through Saturday – 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Sunday – 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. Closed Thanksgiving Day, Christmas Day, New Year’s Day, and the last Friday and Saturday of June.

ADMISSION FEES:

Adults(13+) – $9

Children 4-12 yrs – $6

Sr. Citizens (60+) – $8

Children 3 years old and under – free!!!

Strollers & wagons are available for rental in the gift shop. Strollers are $4 each and wagons are $6 each. (Note: we brought our own (covered) wagon and it worked just great).

There is a small, air-conditioned cafe at the entrance and one in the middle of the zoo (which was closed the day we were there). We had lemonade at the cafe, and it seemed to have a reasonable variety of decent food choices, so you could definitely eat lunch there. No outside food or drink allowed.

Changes

Drumroll please . . . . after determining that NOW was the best time to make the switch, we converting the girls' cribs into toddler beds August 21! That was a very hard week. It reminded me of the newborn stage: taking forever to get the kids to go to sleep, getting up in the middle of the night because Kid A is crying, getting that kid back to sleep, laying in bed for an hour before finally getting myself back to sleep, then being woken a short time later by Kid B crying, then having both kids wake up unreasonably early to start the day. Ugh.

At least this time around I knew what the problem was (falling out of bed, having a wetting accident) and expected that it wouldn't last more than a couple of weeks. In both cases, I was right. Turtle fell out of bed 2 or 3 times and had only one wetting accident; she is now a pro at sleeping in bed and staying dry all night. Monkey fell out only once but after a series of middle-of-the-night sheet changes we decided she should go back to sleeping in a Pull-Up. And their sleep schedule seems to be lengthening back out to a more civilized waking time of 7:15A. That, I can handle. A knock on my door at 6:30A - I just can't do that, no matter how darn cute it is. I know some people do, but fortunately the girls have adopted our "sleeping-in" habits and I'm glad the toddler beds didn't mess that up. And I'm glad we made the switch when we did, before the rush of "fall activities" set in and sleep deprived bad behavior (on everyone's part) would have been less tolerable.

They are both napping in Pack-N-Plays now, because while they are able to stay in bed at night, it appears to be an impossible request at nap time. But they are doing great with the transition after a very rocky week. I was prompted to make the switch without a lot of planning or warning because I did an intense "Toilet Training in Less Than a Day" session with Monkey that Saturday morning, and it went so well I decided to go whole hog. Well, there was serious backtracking last week on the potty training front but I do think everything is smoothing out now, FINALLY. I think the fact that every girl in her Mother's Day Out program wears underwear and goes to the potty had a positive effect on her, in addition to my constant nagging. Oh wait, scratch that about the constant nagging. That seemed to make her take special pleasure in making a huge puddle in the playroom and not telling me about it until she had padded around in her wet socks for a few minutes.

Anyway, that all seems to be behind us. Now we have a couple of nearly three year old preschoolers sleeping in "big kid" beds and taking themselves to the potty, and it is pretty awesome.

That reminds me that Turtle made up her first story the other day. She found one of those miniature novelty books on a bookshelf ("Nancy Drew's Guide to Life") and decided it was her grown up book titled, "The Prince and the Golden." Here is the story she "reads" when she opens the book, and also what she reads when Monkey requests that she read "The Prince and the Golden."

"The Prince and the Golden"

"The Prince and the Golden, too little to fly. He said to his mother, too little to fly. The End."

I'll let you contemplate that masterpiece for awhile. Have a great Labor Day weekend!

Star Wars ABC

Turtle and Monkey received Star Wars ABC, a large board book featuring fantastic photos from Anakin to Zam, from Uncle C. in the mail last week. It's the new favorite, of course. The girls were familiar with R2D2, C3PO, and Yoda because Santa brought those action figures to stockings last Christmas, plus they knew Luke and Leia because I have the piano sheet music to Star Wars and there's a movie photo on the cover. But now it's a whole new world. We have no intention of showing the girls any of the movies for many more years, but I have to think they will have complete mastery of the characters by the time the movies are presented. Here's a sampling of recent conversations.

Turtle, yesterday: "I want to be Anakin for Halloween." Not sure how long this will last since (a) she thinks Anakin is a girl, and (b) prior to yesterday she said repeatedly that she was going to be the tooth fairy for Halloween.

Monkey, at Michael's today: "Let's buy a Storm Trooper." Don't ask me how she popped out with that one in the middle of a craft aisle.

This evening, getting ready for bed:

Turtle, pointing at the photo of Princess Leia: "Help me Obi Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope!"

Monkey, to me: "I'm Princess Leia, and you're Queen Amidala." Twin Daddy accidentally let the cat out of the bag that Queen Amidala is Leia's mommy, and we were hoping they would forget, but they seem quite taken with the fact that the picture that "looks like a clown" is Leia's mom.

Monkey, to me: "Who is Princess Leia's daddy?"

Me: "I don't know. . . . it's a mystery. "

We will NOT spill the beans on that one, and please, please, no one else answer that question. We aren't sure the order in which we'll be showing the movies, but in case we start with IV, we have to keep that a mystery.

Now, I'm sure there are some readers who have no interest in Star Wars and are now bewildered/appalled/think this post is totally lame. But just know that this set of movies is VERY IMPORTANT around here and and any dissing of said movies in front of our children will not be looked upon kindly. Twin Daddy sat with his roommate (who is much more fanatical, and who dressed as Hans Solo for the occasion) in front of a theater for about a day back in 1997 in order to be the first people in the door at the first Austin showing of the Star Wars re-release. I brought them a hot drink in a thermos (and tried not to make fun of Han) so I could also be favored with a perfect seat for the first show in Austin. I'm just saying. It's important.

Two Stories

First, a Monkey story. Last night, getting ready for bed, Monkey climbed on the outside rung of her crib, grabbed the top rail, and kind of arched her back. I told her not to do that and she asked, "Will it break, Momma?" I said, "No the crib won't break, but you might break something. Remember when Lucy (a doll in her favorite Little Bear book) fell out of the tree and broke her arm? That can happen to you, too, but I can't use tape to fix it like Little Bear. I'd have to take you to the hospital for a doctor to fix it."

She looked at me with big eyes and I saw my poor girl visibly shrink before me. She and Turtle started talking about all the ways they could break their arms, and I tried to backtrack. "Oh, you know, maybe you wouldn't break anything, maybe you'd just get an ouchie on your head and you'd cry and need ice, but even then you know, Mommy will always be here to take care of you." Blah Blah Blah. It was too late. I crushed Monkey's skiing/gymnastics/horseback riding career before she ever had a chance to dream about it. The last words she said as I tucked her in were "on ladders, in cribs, in trees, in LOTS of places."

Now, a Turtle story. Tonight we were pretty late getting the girls to bed because I took them out to a little potluck dinner going-away party for their Heartsong Music teacher, who is moving to go to graduate school. Once home, we rushed to hustle the girls into bed and I was trying to help Turtle brush her teeth. She wouldn't open her mouth, she sucked on the toothbrush, and was generally uncooperative, so I gave that up and moved on to trying to wash her hands. She wrestled with me over it and then she kind of screamed and flailed her hands under the faucet, splashing water all over the sink and mirror. I took a step back, put my hands on my hips without saying anything, and gave her a raised-eyebrows "I'm not happy about this" look in the mirror. She met my gaze in the mirror. Then she said, "This is not going well."

After Twin Daddy and I stopped laughing, we got them to bed without much trouble.

Prayer

Turtle spontaneously said a prayer today while she was "vacuuming" with her toy vacuum. She stopped the vacuum, put her hands over the handle, and said exactly this:

Dear God,

Thank you for Lovey, and for privacy, and for Mommy, and for Daddy, and for Sissy. And. Bye!

A-men.

Then she went right back to vacuuming.

So the next time she asks for privacy in the bathroom, I suppose I should be a little more respectful!

Clothes and Questions

A lot of money and effort could have been saved if I had known how few clothes Turtle would be willing to wear this summer. She wears only one pair of PJs every single day, taking them off every morning the instant she wakes up, so they stay clean and ready to wear that night. And all those new shorts and t-shirts? Forget it. Despite changing clothes about 6 times a day, she has a very particular set of clothes she is willing to wear, and she will specifically ask for her purple dress or pull her heart t-shirt out of the dirty clothes hamper (even when I try to hide it at the bottom). I am generally mortified when we leave the house, not because I don't like what she is wearing (a raggedy purple striped dress with old stained pink shorts, primary-color-striped legwarmers, blue socks and purple crocs actually looks cute on a toddler), but only because I know she has much NICER and more appropriate clothes that she flat out refuses to wear. If she would just horridly mismatch her nice clothes, I'd feel much better.

I know the 6 times a day changing routine is just a phase brought on by the thrill she feels that she actually CAN take off all her clothes, pull new clothes off the hanger, and put on a complete outfit, including socks and shoes, all by herself. It is pretty thrilling for me too. I only force her to change clothes when the one-size-too-small t-shirt and oversized bloomers she has selected are just too inappropriate to leave the house. Other than that I try to go with the flow.

I haven't talked much about Monkey lately - she is thriving in a different way. For one, she is taking naps again, and that has improved her mood and behavior a thousand fold. After nearly two weeks of non-napping, I taped black garbage bags over the nursery windows in desperation, hoping to create such a cave-like atmosphere that she would be forced to sleep. I don't know if it was that or her general exhaustion, but she did sleep that first afternoon after the trash bags thoroughly blocked her light, and she and Turtle have had long naps and late mornings in the nursery every since. She is a different (happier) child now, and has become much easier to live with.

Monkey has also started asking questions about words now, and that is new this week. When I read a book she will ask, "What is 'reluctant'?" "What is 'insisted'?" "What is 'thought'?" It is eye opening (and compassion-inducing) to realize how many words I've been reading and saying that she may not understand. So, when I think she is being obstinate -- wanting to stay (pre-garbage bag) in rest time for only two more minutes, as opposed to 15 more minutes -- she may just not understand. "What IS fifteen, Mommy?"

P.S. How do you explain, "thought"? Also, what do you say if your kid asks you if God is going to come visit?

Musical Genius

The other day we were listening to a Laurie Berkner (children) CD in the car. We've had the CD a couple of weeks, and there are a few songs the girls ask to hear again and again. We were listening to one such song when Turtle said, from the back seat, "They're playing a tambourine, Mommy!"

Slightly shocked, I listened closely to the music and did indeed hear a tambourine in the background. I have to say, I still haven't recovered from my surprise. The girls sing, make up new songs, and play with instruments at home constantly, but for Turtle to be able to identify one instrument among many on a CD actually kind of scares me a little.

Despite my lingering fear of my child's sponge-like mega-brain, thank you Heartsong Music and the Music Together program. In that freaky moment I felt fully justified in the many, many, many hundreds of dollars spent on weekly music classes over the past 15 months, and all the other activities passed over to keep room in our calendar and in our budget for Heartsong. Knowing that my kids will ultimately have greater musical prowess than me (whether they choose to exercise it or not) is a source of real pleasure and gratitude.

Funny

Yesterday Twin Daddy opened up the television cabinet, and this is the conversation that ensued.

Twin Daddy: We're going to watch a little (World Cup) soccer now.

Turtle: I want to watch Dora!

T.D. (kind of mumbling to himself): Maybe Dora will be playing soccer.

Twin Momma: (laughs quietly)

T.V. comes on.

Turtle: Will Dora be playing, Daddy?

T.D.: Oh, no, honey (apologetically). Dora's not really going to play soccer.

Turtle: You were teasing me, Daddy?

T.D.: Yes! I was teasing you! (very surprised she knows how to use teasing in context).

Turtle: You stinker!

TM and TD burst out laughing, and Turtle is quite pleased with herself.

Tidbits

Goodbye Pony:

There is a convenience store in a strip mall where I occasionally go for coffee that had a full size horse statue out front. I first started running in and out for coffee when the girls were just months old; I could leave them in the car parked right in front of the store without ever having them out of my sight, and I would direct them to talk to the pony while I ran in for a minute. Well, "The Pony" became a "thing" and they would regularly ask to go see the pony. One or the other would say, "Mommy, let's go see the pony and you get." (which meant I would "get" out of the car.) I would often say, "we can go see the pony but I'm not going to get" and then we'd just drive by and wave to the pony. Last week Monkey said, "Let's go see the pony mommy," and I said, "Sure!" I drove to the store and GASP! There was no horse statue!! This was a big bronze horse statue, full size. And it was gone. I was shocked and I really thought I might cry. I went into the convenience store demanding to know where my babies' pony had gone. Turns out the owner of the strip mall sold it. SOLD it. I really don't know who could possibly buy such a thing, or how one would even sell it. Craigslist? Anyway, the cashier lamented the lost horse as well, saying that his daughter had been enjoying the pony since she was two (she's now 12). After I whined a little more, wishing I could have known so I could have at least taken a picture, I left. I dreaded telling the girls that the pony really was gone, fearing a screaming melt down from Monkey.

"Well girls, the pony is gone. The woman who owns it sold it," I said after I got in the car. They both looked a little surprised. Then Turtle said, "Can we go see my old school now mommy?" (referring to the daycare they attended part-time for a few months during my half-hearted attempt to return to work after they turned one). It's close to the store, so we drove by it, and that made them both happy and they haven't mentioned the pony again. Which goes to show that they are a lot more flexible than I give them credit for.

Trapped in Chick-Fil-A

There's a Chick-Fil-A in town that has a pretty good climbing structure inside that I've been wanting to check out for the girls. We went there yesterday for lunch and Monkey climbed up higher and higher. While it is incredibly tall (as tall as the store), it is virtually impossible to fall more than 18 inches, and then onto a soft landing, so I wasn't too worried. Until Monkey started saying, "I need help mommy." I tried to direct her to the tunnel that led to the slide, but she couldn't quite figure it out. And I couldn't reach her or fit inside to get her. She climbed up another step and then I couldn't see her at all, but I could hear her. "I need help mommy. Help mommy, I need help." It was like hearing a kitten mewing in a tree but you can't quite figure out where it is. She was calm; I don't think she was afraid. She just needed help. But after a few minutes I starting getting anxious because I was worried she was going to get afraid and start screaming. Also, I could not see her at all, so that was pretty disconcerting. I wanted to say "Come to Mommy's voice, Carol Ann," but I refrained. Instead, I gave a 10-year-old $2 to climb up and save her, and then we had lunch.

Sandbox

We have a little sand table that Monkey loves to play in. Yesterday, though, she told me it was too small and she was going to get a new one. "Oh really?" I asked. "How?" "From Christmas," she answered. I was so shocked I sent her in to tell Twin Daddy exactly what she just told me. She told him she was going to get a sandbox in her stocking. So, I guess it is all over now. Last year all she asked from Santa was a lollipop and a candy cane. We cherished the sweetness of the simple request, and I'm glad we did.

Year of the Pee

I'm sure that someday I'll look back, fondly and with nostalgia, on the months we spent potty training in the first half of 2010. Ah yes, that future someday when I will sadly miss cleaning pee off the floor five times a day, or wrestling Monkey onto the potty with no success, only to have her pee on the floor one minute later.

Turtle has been fairly well potty-trained for over a month now, and it was relatively easy. Monkey flat out wasn't ready, but last week she starting showing more awareness of her bodily functions and asking to wear underwear, even going so far as to say, "I'm ready" when I asked her if she'd like to try potty training again this week. So on Monday we started in earnest and I will say that while progress is slow, it is progress. Now instead of peeing all over herself and the floor and just sitting in a puddle until someone finds her, she pees just a little bit on the floor and then yells for me and sort of holds it while I pick her up and run her to a potty. So that is progress. I can generally clean up the accidental pee with one Clorox wipe, and have only had to clean up about one big puddle per day.

Then there was tonight. I was worn out - Monkey didn't take a nap and was a real bear all evening, pushing, pinching and hitting Turtle and generally melting down over every perceived slight. I laid down for a few minutes after Twin Daddy came home from work, then got up just in time for Monkey to let out a doozy of a pee all over the playroom floor, getting the rug and an entire "Little People" village soaked, and spraying the Aqua Doodle mats and a few other toys in the path of destruction, not to mention the river that ran from the playroom to the bathroom as Twin Daddy tried to get her to the potty.

You might be thinking to yourself, "If that happened to me, I would just cry." That's what I thought, too. So I indulged myself. It was just a wimpering little cry and I managed to squeeze out only a few tears, just enough so Twin Daddy could see how deeply I suffered. Not sure how much it affected him, though, considering he lives with a 2.5 year old who also likes to cry just to show off her tears.

Anyhoo, we cleaned up the main wetness and then after a truly horrendous bed/bath time filled with unhappy scream upon scream, I spent an hour cleaning up the pre-existing general kitchen dinner mess, wiping down the affected non-plastic toys with Clorox wipes, soaking the Little People and all their accoutrements in hot, soapy water, and running a load of what I like to call "pee laundry."

Ah, yes, someday.

Sparkly Chicken

I bought a roasted chicken from HEB this afternoon for dinner, as I often do on Sundays. I pulled the meat off one of the chicken legs for Turtle's plate, and she polished it off before I even sat down to eat. Twin Daddy offered her some of his chicken breast, which she promptly threw on the ground, screaming for what sounded like "broccoli". We finally figured out that she was saying she wanted more "sparkly chicken." As in greasy, sparkling-with-fat, dark meat off the leg bone. Mmm Mmm delicious, and so good for you too!

Tell Me A Story

Monkey and Turtle (Monkey in particular) frequently ask, "Tell me a story momma, about how sissy got a boo-boo eye." I then start, "Once upon a time, Turtle was at the window, and Duncan was at the window, and Duncan bit Turtle in the eye because his brain was very sick. And Turtle screamed and Mommy came running and got a towel from the kitchen to wipe Turtle's blood, and said, "It's ok, It's ok. . . . " The story goes on and on of course, of how I hustled everyone into the car, how I dropped Monkey off at the neighbor's house (and that Aunt D. came to get her later), that Turtle and I went to one hospital and then had to ride in an ambulance to get to the other, that Daddy was at the other hospital when we got there, etc. etc. etc., detailing the surgery, Monkey's visits to Turtle in the hospital, who came to see us, and so on.

The most fascinating part of this is that even though I've "told them a story" more than a dozen times, they both (Turtle in particular) have added details over time. Turtle remembered that I ran to the kitchen and got a dish towel to stop the bleeding, so I added that to the story. She also reminded me that she played with Play-Doh while we waited in the ER for the surgeon. And Monkey is the one who first re-enacted my running around the house repeating "It's Ok, It's Ok, It's Ok" in a frantic voice. When I saw her do that I had a clear picture of me trying to soothe myself as much as them.

Both girls have a firm grasp of what happened, and the consequence (we had Duncan put to sleep after it was determined that he had become medically aggressive and couldn't be helped), and while we deal with all of this directly and matter of factly, I wonder sometimes if I'm doing enough to help them work it all out.

The other day when I told the story, Monkey said something that prompted me to ask her if she remembered what sissy's boo boo looked like right after Duncan bit her. It was the first time I'd asked that, and her eyes got very wide and she nodded "yes" and said it was like a mask. I hadn't thought much about what it must have been like for Monkey to see the horrible gash that I saw, and now that I know she remembers it so well, what should I do?

What prompted this post is that tonight Turtle was playing with Twin Daddy's sleeve, making motions with her finger, when completely out of the blue, she said, "I'm cutting your shirt off Daddy. Then I'm going to give you a yucky mask." She had her shirt cut off to prep for the surgery. Then she had "yucky mask" anesthesia (as opposed to the "yummy mask" she had when she had the stitches out and we had time to order a nice strawberry-flavored anesthesia). We have never once talked about having her shirt cut off in the two-plus months since it happened, not because it's so horrible; I just didn't remember that part. But she remembers it - she remembers every detail.

The only physical reminder of this sad incident is a tiny little scar under Turtle's eye. I'm hoping that my inner wisdom (????) will help me say exactly the right thing every time it's brought up, so that over the long term it will become a simple memory, with all the frightening emotions drained out.

Spring Break

After much hand-wringing, I've decided to take a break from posting to this blog for the month of April. I used to sit down and crank out a great little story (in my humble opinion) in about 20 minutes. Now it takes me almost an hour just to create something slightly interesting, and I don't look forward to it. I'm pretty sure it's because my house is no longer quiet - I used to be able to compose complete posts in my mind during the two naps a day, or as I took a long walk in the stroller, or as I sat around watching my babies learn to crawl. Now, someone is talking to me non-stop, there is only one short-ish nap, and going for a walk usually involves strenuous negotiations to keep Monkey in the stroller while I rush back home. In other words, my mind is never quiet enough to remember my friends' birthdays, much less assemble stories.

When I return in May my posts may be very short. I think if I didn't put pressure on myself to write a "story," I wouldn't be so resistant to sitting down in front of the computer. For example, I might post one thing I learned from my kids that day. Something like this:

Today I learned from Turtle that the reason I'm at home is so I can turn on Dora the Explorer for her. Daddy (who they both call "Boots" when they are in Dora mode) isn't at home because he has to go to work. And Mommy (who is "Swiper") is at home so "you can turn on Dora." I'm not sure why Twin Daddy gets to be Boots and I've been named Swiper - pretty telling, eh? Anyway, I guess once Turtle learns how to work the DVD player, I'll no longer be needed around here.

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Until next month!

Potty Parties and Little Mommies

A couple of weeks ago we had our first “Potty Party” with the girls. We called it Potty Party for their sake; it was basically “run around naked for two days and see if we can teach you to pee in the potty before the weekend is over.” At the end of the weekend we determined that Turtle was ready and Monkey was not, so we have been moving forward with Turtle ever since. On Tuesday of this week she graduated to her Dora underwear, and now wears diapers for sleeping time only. We have barely left the house this week so I’m not really sure how the underwear will hold up when we return to our normal routine next week, but there is no going back now.

I really couldn’t tell you when Monkey will be ready. All I know is that until she decides that it is her idea to use the potty, she will be using her diapers. Her flailing, kicking, and screaming when we tried to get her on the potty (and her complete lack of concern about repeatedly peeing all over herself and the floor), was sufficient to convince me to leave the girl alone for now. She’s been lobbying to wear the Dora panties over her diaper, but I’ve held firm that Dora panties are only for girls who go pee-pee in the potty every time.

Speaking of Monkey’s dramatic flair . . . there has been an interesting new game going on around here. The girls take turn playing Mommy to each other. They “hold” each other, “feed” each other, and the other day I even found Monkey helping Turtle go poo-poo on the potty (for real, not for pretend).

I have often thought Monkey was “playing” me with her screams of “Mommy Hold, Mommy HOLD!!” and other “Mommy!”-type screams, and now I know that I am right. I heard her screaming the other day and I ran to find her, only to see her holding her arms out to Turtle. I said, “Here I am, honey,” and she said, calmly and dry-eyed, “No. Turtle-Mommy!” Then she went back to her screaming. Turtle walked over, put her arms around her, and said, “It’s ok baby, mommy's here. Calm down. Calm down.” Then they continued on with their little game.

Now when I hear Monkey screaming I say, “Do you want this Mommy or Turtle-Mommy?” And I dance a little jig every time she says, “Turtle-Mommy.”

This Week in Twin Momma Land

Monkey

Monkey, all of a sudden, won't wear a shirt with a tag in it, because "it hurts."

When asked this evening how she got those scratches on the back of her thigh, she said "Bailey did it." Bailey is her classmate at preschool. "How did she do it?" asked Twin Daddy. "With her bellybutton," said Monkey. Of course.

Monkey developed a "boo-boo on my nose" in response to Turtle's eye injury. She does have a chapped nose from her recent cold and so we indulge her, putting Aquafor ointment on her nose as well as Turtle's rapidly healing scars. Turtle had a follow-up appointment this week to confirm her healing is going well (it is), and as the nurse was finishing up with us Monkey said, "Momma." "Yes, honey?" I said. She said something so softly that I put my head next to hers and said, "What is it, honey?" "My nose," she whispered again, so very softly that I only know she said it because I saw her lips move and felt her breath on my face. I looked at her looking at me with so much faith, took a deep breath and said, "Um, excuse me nurse?" "Yes?" asked the nurse. "Monkey has a boo-boo on her nose, and we were hoping you could check it out for her." The nurse looked at me for a second and I kind of raised my eyebrows, and then she said, "Oh of course!" and made a big production about getting the little scope with a light that they use to check ears and eyes. After she thoroughly checked Monkey's nose, she said, "It looks good, just keep it clean and it will be all better soon. Ok?" "Ok," said Monkey, completely validated. The nurse became a star on my "A" list.

Turtle

Turtle's eye is so healed that when people who know about her accident see her for the first time, they say, "Which eye?" She tells people, "I have a boo-boo on my eye." When they say, "I know, I'm sorry," she continues, very importantly, "The family dog bit me."

She has taken to licking Monkey in the face during bath time. This causes a great deal of giggling from everyone.

Tonight she said, "I'm so big" and stretched herself as tall as she could and did something with her arms. I finally realized that she was flexing her muscles for us.

Every time she offers me food now, she says, "Pretend bite Momma, pretend. Don't take a real bite." And then she launches into this story: On Valentine's Day, I got her and Monkey each a heart-shaped chocolate lollipop. They ate them in Turtle's hospital room. Monkey offered me a bite of hers, and I took one. Then Turtle offered me a bite. I took one. She cried. And cried. And cried. She put her head on Twin Daddy's shoulder and cried, "Mommy took a real bite of my lollipop Daddy, a real bite." This went on for infinity. After I had apologized 8 million times and promised to never take a real bite again, she calmed down. But she hasn't forgotten. Oh no. Every chance she gets, she says, "Mommy, you took a real bite of my lollipop. And I cried." Like I could ever forget about the time I took candy from my hospitalized baby.

Monkey's Song

Many readers already know that our family dog bit Turtle in the face last Friday. After emergency plastic surgery and several days in the hospital, she is home and doing wonderfully. In fact, it looks like she simply has a black eye and a few scratches, which is unbelievable considering that 5 days ago her eye looked ripped apart and I feared she would be permanently disfigured as I drove her to the emergency room. The staff and facility at Dell Children's Hospital is amazing; and Dr. Patrick Kelley, the Chief of Plastic Surgery and the person responsible for Turtle's amazing recovery, is well worth whatever outrageous out-of- pocket/after insurance amounts we will eventually owe for two surgeries and three nights in the hospital.

Monkey summed up our experience with a song she spontaneously made up as she sat down to dinner tonight. Without any help or prompting, she sang this completely intact, roughly to the tune of "Itsy Bitsy Spider." (I use that basic tune to sing all sorts of silly songs that the girls ask me to make up on a regular basis). I wrote her song down within minutes of her singing it because I was so amazed; I'm not sure I got it exactly verbatim but if not, it is very close:

Turtle, Turtle,
you have a booboo on your eye.
A dog bit you
and you had to go to the hospital,
to have your medicine drink
and some milk.

Now you're all better
And you had little bears there
and there were some babies
and then Monkey got a bear.

Being the Lady

Yesterday Turtle put two of her dolls in her grocery cart and said, "I have twins, Mommy!" I looked over and smiled. Then she said, "Be the lady, Mommy." I knew exactly what she meant without further explanation. I walked up to her cart and in a high pitched voice said, "Oh, are they twins??" "Yes," she said, smiling proudly. "Well," I continued in my high-pitched lady voice, "they sure are beautiful. You're so lucky!" She nodded and pushed her cart away.

While it's cute and brilliant that Turtle has turned my frequent interaction with female shoppers into the "Be the Lady" game, what I can't get over is how I knew instantantly what she meant when she asked me to be the lady, even though it was the very first time she'd ever asked it of me. I didn't think, I didn't ask her to repeat herself, I didn't wonder if she meant the cashier. I just went directly into the role play. It was like we had a moment of recognition, when two minds were equal in the shared knowledge of our mutual experience. It was like communicating with someone with whom you have such a deep history that barely a word has to be spoken in order for you to both know everything that is in the other person's mind. It was a glimpse into the inside jokes, the secrets, and the drama that will one day be part of my relationship with this child, and it was amazing.

Random Thoughts about Today

I wish that the girls’ teacher would have told me that they spent some time in church today. Then I would have been more prepared during the drive home when Turtle asked, “Where is God Mommy, where is God?” I’m satisfied with the answer I gave, but still. One likes to have a little time to think about these things.

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I am freakishly protective of the girls’ naptime. I have always been a slave to the nap schedule, completely contorting all activities around it. It’s not just because I think adequate sleep is the single most important factor affecting their development, or that I am convinced that the compliments I get about their good public behavior is because they are always well-rested. It’s not even because I need that break. It’s because of the hellfire unleashed on me when they don’t get that nap.

Today I couldn’t get them to go to sleep during naptime. The hour that followed that unsuccessful rest period was filled with screaming, crying, two kids literally hanging onto my knees screaming, “Momma Hold! Momma Hold!” while I tried to make dinner, constant throwing of themselves on the ground, and finally, a plate of food thrown off the dinner table so forcefully that I had to wipe avocado off the wall.

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There is occasionally a window of calm after the hellfire on a “no nap” day. Today, a mere 20 minutes after the avocado incident, there were the girls, giving each other “boots” (boosts) up the slide on the Little Tikes Castle Climber in the living room. “I give sissy boots Momma, I give sissy boots!” said Turtle, pushing on Monkey's bottom as Monkey climbed up the slide. Then Monkey slid back down, said, “Sissy’s turn” and then gave Turtle a “boot” up the slide. They repeated this for awhile, falling on top of each other quite a bit and laughing like crazy. It made me laugh so hard that I almost forgot about the avocado.

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In the course of about 45 minutes this evening, Monkey and Turtle: gave each other boosts up the slide; put on their wings, found their flower wands, their purses, their babies and loaded it all into their grocery carts to go to HEB; pretended to be the neighbor’s newborn baby; talked at length on their phones to God, telling Him everything that was going on in the living room; pretended I was Baby Jesus; and put on insect tattoos.

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I wonder how Monkey managed to pull off her pants and her diaper during her “nap” time today, and how long did she play bare-bottomed in her crib before I finally declared nap over and went and got her? What kind of picture of God is forming in their little brains? How soon before I regret teaching them how to give each other boosts? These are the random questions that fill my brain, blocking out current events, people's birthdays, and everything I learned in law school . . . .

What I Taught Today

Twin Momma: Knock, Knock
Monkey: Who dere?
Twin Momma: Boo
Monkey: Boo Who?
Twin Momma: Awww, don't cry Monkey!!

Monkey and Turtle: Giggling at the most hilarious joke they have ever heard.

Monkey: "Sissy's turn!"

Twin Momma: Knock, Knock
Turtle: Who dere?
Twin Momma: Boo
Turtle: Boo Who?
Twin Momma: Awww, don't cry Turtle!!

Monkey and Turtle: Giggling, even harder, at the hilarity they are witnessing.

Turtle: "Sissy's turn!"

Repeat x 20

La-Ha

A few months ago I took Turtle and Monkey to Mayfield Park to see the peacocks that live and roam freely on the park grounds. There is a cottage in the middle of the park; the girls climbed onto the steps leading up to the cottage and started, almost simultaneously, saying “La-Ha.” They were giggling and walking along the length of the step, saying “La-Ha.” It took me awhile to figure out what they were saying:

“Are you playing a game?” I asked.

“Yeah. La-Ha.”

I kept repeating, “La-Ha? Are you saying La-Ha?”

They were. The next time we went, the same thing happened. Then just this week we went to visit a preschool that had peacocks on its grounds. As soon as we got home, they went out onto the front steps and started playing “La-Ha.” This game has something to do with peacocks and steps, but that is about all I can tell you.

The girls, Turtle in particular, constantly make up games. There’s “keymaster” and “monkey” and “sacka” and bunch of others. I couldn’t possibly explain these games except to tell you they involve a series of actions the girls make you repeat over and over (and over) and said actions are more directly related to the name of the game than the mysterious “La-Ha.”

This past Sunday they invented a new game, one I enjoy despite its name – “screaming.” It involves the girls running around the house, screaming. One will follow the other and then they switch, and they just scream. This game should not to be confused with “chase,” which, of course, is a totally different game and requires participation of a parent. And that was the beauty of “screaming” – no parents. They just ran around having a ball while Twin Daddy and I luxuriously poured ourselves glasses of water and stood around the kitchen, basking in the glorious screaming that meant we were free to chat amongst ourselves for as long as the game lasted.

Later that same day I actually read a magazine article while they played in the living room. Granted, it was a short article in ParentWise:Austin, but still. It was like they were older children from one day to the next.

On the subject of the speed at which these children are developing, I have to say I am generally astounded about every 7 minutes by the things that come out of their mouths. I have taken to saying, “Hmmmm, okay,” a lot. I've given up recording it all but I can touch on a couple of things. Turtle likes to pretend a lot. She often calls herself “puppy” and calls Mr. Lovey her “bone.” When she’s pretending she’s a puppy, she will correct you if you call her by her real name, and she says things like, “Where’s my bone, mommy?” when she can’t find Mr. Lovey. Last week, we started a new music class with their favorite teacher, Abby, and when we got home she (and then Monkey, who often follows whatever Turtle is doing) insisted on being called Abby for the rest of the day.

While Monkey usually follows Turtle’s lead on games and pretending, she has her own interesting imagination as well. She has taken to calling Turtle, “my baby brother.” Turtle responds by calling Monkey, “my sissy brother.” Then, my favorite story this month: Monkey was chatting up a storm in the back seat on the way to dinner last Saturday night, then she suddenly pointed at Turtle and said, “That’s my cousin, Baby Jesus.”

I could try to explain the circuitous connections and theories I have about how in the world the girl came up with such a statement, but I think it’s a lot more fun if we all just say, “hmmm, ok” and play along.