Away We Go!

I don’t know why, but the girls seem to do their best walking when their vision is obstructed.  Their balance and stride is at its most confident when they have something over their eyes.   

I guess they’re taking this “walking by faith” thing seriously.  Maybe they’re trying to teach me a spiritual lesson…that if I’m unable to see the obstacles or uneven ground before me, I would be forced to rely more on the Lord for guidance.

Or maybe the girls are just plain silly.

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Or perhaps they’re extolling the virtues of seeing the world through rose-colored glasses.

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Speaking of rose-colored glasses, my vision is going to be positively rosy starting tomorrow.  Jim is whisking me away on a belated anniversary getaway and my in-laws have generously agreed to watch the kids for us.  The trip destination is a surprise to me, so by tomorrow, I could be strolling on a beach or sight-seeing at a park or dining at a faraway fine restaurant (which is most likely to be a Chili’s, since Jim has the uncanny ability to locate the nearest Chili’s in any given state).  But wherever we go, you can rest assured that we will be spending quality time with each other.  You can also rest assured that I will definitely dedicate some of that quality time to sleeping in.  I can’t wait! 

I’ve scheduled a couple of blog posts to publish in my absence, so my mom won’t go into granddaughter withdrawals while I’m gone (You’re welcome, Mom!). 

I’ll be back soon…hopefully rested, and maybe even suntanned.  Although I guess I could just as likely be windchilled or frostbitten, given Jim’s love of arctic weather…stay tuned!

Humble Pie

See this beautiful, appetizing blueberry “lazy man’s pancake” pie?

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Well, it ended up in my garbage disposal.  What, you may ask, would make a sane person dump this beautiful breakfast down the drain?  No, I didn’t have second thoughts about personally consuming a dish made with half of stick of butter (I probably should have, but that’s beside the point).   

Truth be told, the dish is actually undercooked, and thus inedible.  Why would I undercook a dish for which I was experiencing anticipatory salivation all morning?

Because while this golden beauty was baking (the pie, not me), I was listening through the monitor to the girls’ joyful squealing up in their cribs.  I was shaking my head at their refusal to take a nap, but I figured it was only a matter of time before they exhausted themselves into slumber.  As I was watching the oven timer tick down, I heard a crash-bang-boom…and then a wail.  This is not an uncommon occurrence in our household, but something about the pitch of the wail made me instantly forget my hunger and race up the stairs.  I opened the nursery door to find a sobbing Becky with blood pouring out of her mouth onto her sheets.  I frantically picked her up and ascertained that there was no major damage, and that she must have fallen against the crib slats and bit the inside of her mouth.  I knew there was going to be quite a bit of clean-up and child soothing involved, so I went downstairs and mournfully removed my not-quite-baked pie and turned off the oven.  I figured it was better to ruin the breakfast by undercooking it, rather than be unable to return downstairs at the proper time to get it out of the oven, and thus overcook it and make my house smell like burnt butter.  I went back upstairs, cleaned up Becky and calmed Susie, who was experiencing empathic trauma (or maybe just jealousy from all her sister’s attention), stripped and remade the crib sheets, soaked the bloody bedding with stain remover and threw them in the wash, and then returned the children to their room to see if we could salvage the rest of their nap, and perhaps the pie.  The girls indeed fell asleep, but the pie was beyond rescuing, so into the sink it went.  I suppose I could have stuck it back in the oven to see if I could make it edible, but I had actually lost my appetite for it by then.

But don’t worry – I made up for all the calories I could have consumed in the pie by treating myself to a full-fat Starbucks treat this evening.  Caffeine and chocolate and happy children:  my recipe for success!

Being Neighborly

The girls and I had our first official “play” date today.  We’ve gotten together with other kids before, but not since the girls are old enough to actually play.  Today was the first time they were given the chance to interact with their peers, and interact they did!  There was beautiful Lily, who is about a month younger than the girls, and loveable Steven, who is only a few weeks younger.  The kids spent most of their time colliding mid-air with each other and coveting whatever toy was in someone else’s hands.  The moms stayed close by, playing referee, distributing food and water, and keeping the kids from poking each other’s eyes out (we kind of sound like jailers of pint-sized inmates, don’t we?).  It was wonderful to have other moms with which to swap suggestions (“Try this brand of sippy cup for less leaking”), shore up our shaky intuitions (“I think it’s OK that she’s not talking yet…right?) and share relieved admissions (“Oh I’m so glad he stuffs all his food in his mouth at once, too!”).

Especially since we live in a rather rural area and the girls won’t be able to just run down the street to play with neighbors (unless they wanted to play with neighboring cows and horses), it’s so nice to have found local children for company.  The girls are very social with each other, but I’m thankful that they won’t have to spend all winter cooped up inside poking each other in the nose – now there are other noses to poke!  

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Becky (on left): “Can you show me that doll-flipping move again?  I’d like to try it on my sister.”

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Susie (in middle): “I don’t know what’s more fun – having so many new people to smile at, or so many new toys to grab!”

(The second photo courtesy of Lily’s mom)

Scavenger Hunt

Susie’s definition of “dessert”:

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Eating the leftover Cheerios she’s found at the bottom of her car seat.  She saves the best for last!   

Higher Fashion

Now that Becky has officially entered the fashion world, she’s apparently recognized the importance of accessorizing.  Here she is on the catwalk showing off the latest bracelet design (a.k.a. a teething ring).  Notice she’s already mastered the pout that characterizes so many world-weary fashion models (and petulant toddlers):  

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Not to be outdone, Susie took the accessorizing a step further and added a necklace along with the bracelet to complete her ensemble.    Susie is a little more camera-shy than her sister, so attempted to obscure her face with a toy hermit crab.  At least it matches the bracelet!

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Now if only their mom would agree to buy them decent clothing and not force them to make any more public appearances in their pajamas!   

Savor the Moment

Don’t you ever wish that you could really enjoy food again?  Don’t you wish you could wolf down whatever was put in front of you without a single worry about your waistline, or whether you were getting food on your face, or whether someone watching would think you were being too energetic in your consumption?  Don’t you wish you could clap when you saw your meal being prepared (or for that matter, don’t you wish someone else prepared your food at all)?  Don’t you wish you could hum and yum and groan with pleasure as you savor each bite of food? 

When we were at Jim’s Nana’s place earlier this week, she insisted that the girls try an ice cream sandwich while she and I ate coffee cake.  As I fed the girls their first ever bites of that delectable goody and watched as they nearly bounced out of their seats with excitement at this new taste sensation, it struck me that I had seen this level of food appreciation before.  I looked over at Nana eagerly eating her cake as she hummed with happiness and dropped quite a bit of it into her lap, and I smiled at the family resemblance.  The girls may not have Nana’s puppy-dog eyes, but they have her deep, abiding love of food.  Since the girls already enjoy snacking on the leftover cheerios that fall into the depths of their car seats, and last week I caught Susie stuffing food into the pocket of her bib, I fear that it won’t be long before they’re following Nana’s lead and stuffing jelly donuts in their coat pockets at all-you-can-eat buffets!  

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Rock n’ Roll

One of the things I love most about children is their ability to have fun with what’s at hand.  Have a bowl?  It can be a hat, or a mask, or a mixing pot.  Have a box?  It can be a treasure chest, a secret hide-out, or a drum.   Have a rocking chair?  It can be an obstacle course, a trampoline, or…

…an amusement park ride!

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Notice how the girls’ personalities are displayed in the video below.  Becky is our thrill-seeker; she lays back and enjoys the ride.  Susie is more hesitant when it comes to physical adventure; she’s hanging on for dear life, only lifting her head occasionally to peek and see if it’s over yet!    

The Search is Over

It took me no less than twelve hours and multiple Google searches to do it, but I finally figured out the proper term for Rebecca’s design creation from yesterday (and I must note that my relentless pursuit of the term only indicates my obsession with correct English vocabulary, not obscure fashion terminology.  I’ll leave that sphere of interest to my daughter). 

Rebecca’s fashion career has officially started with the creation of a bolero jacket.  Here’s a photo of one I found online, for comparison purposes.

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Of course, Rebecca has made her own modifications, such as cropped sleeves.  But I think it’s a rather stunning imitation, don’t you?

I’ve never been a fan of modern fashion, but Rebecca’s unintentional foray into the design world has made me even more skeptical of its claims on creativity.  Since I’ve now come to believe that the first bolero jacket was most likely invented because Senor Bolero’s toddler pulled her shirt halfway over her head, how did other trends come to be?  Was the first tube dress patented after an infant shimmied partly out of her onesie?  Were capri pants merely the accidental result of putting hand-me-down pants on a growing child?  So the next time you see a trendy new style, don’t thank the designer…thank her kid. 

Fashion Forward

I don’t know where she got it from, but our little Rebecca appears to possess the sensibilities of a fashion designer.  She certainly didn’t inherit it from me, since I am more than happy to wear a T-shirt and jeans year-round (and my jeans are rarely even in style.  Stacy and Clinton from “What Not to Wear” would have a field day with my pant length.  I can just hear Stacy now… “Shut up!  I can practically see her ankles!”).  And I don’t think she got any sense of style from Jim, since his entire wardrobe consists of Costco sale items. 

So, unless she somehow got her cousin Allison’s impeccable taste, I can only conclude that Rebecca’s just a natural-born fashionista.  I mean, who else would think of turning a plain old shirt into a cropped jacket?

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She even knows how to strike a pose!

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I must also point out that not only is she sporting stylish low-riding jeans, she’s also displaying the “layered look” with her diaper.  Very fashionable indeed, if I do say so myself.

It’s Greek to Me

On a good day, laundry is a rather Sisyphean task.  It seems to never end.  As long as we continue to go out in public, we will wear clothes, and those clothes will inevitably become dirtied and require washing to make them presentable for our next public appearance.  However, in recent weeks, the act of doing the laundry has even more closely resembled Sisyphus’ maddening rock-pushing.  Why, you may ask?  Oh, because I’ve enlisted a little help. 

How could you say no to such eager assistants?

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These little creatures have decided that the best way to help me with the chores is to pull the piles of clean laundry off the couch (my clean laundry folding zone) and onto the floor (my dirty laundry sorting zone).  Thus, to my wearied brain, it looks like I never accomplish anything.  The to-be-laundered piles mysteriously multiply on the floor, no matter how many loads I stick in the washer. 

Granted, this problem could be averted if I waited until the girls were napping to take the clean laundry out of the dryer, then immediately folded it and put it away.  But such a solution would require a touch more self-discipline than I currently possess.  And it would deprive my girls of the learning experience.  And deprive me of the object lesson in Greek Mythology. 

Hmmm…maybe that’s what the girls’ laundry antics are trying to make me appreciate.   

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Susie: “Hey Mom, wouldn’t you rather be like Sisyphus than Medusa?”