September 2008
September was another big leap into toddlerhood. We went cold turkey on the switch from bottles to sippy cups, we started new bigger-kid classes and activities, began the transition from two naps to one, and Rebecca went from zero to walking in about three days.
Like I did last year, I’m doing a 12-day countdown to the kiddos’ birthday. Incredible that they’re about to be TWO! But before we hit that milestone, a trip down memory Lane.
August 2008
The standout memory of last August was our trip to Virginia with good friends. Rental house on the beach, yes please! We even got to meet the most-awesome Cheryl and her kids.
Kiddos were active and funny, but not yet walking and talking. We made the switch off of formula, and were on the final days of bottles. Babies, no longer! Man, it simultaneously feels like it was yesterday, and it was a million years ago. Time is a funny thing, isn’t it?
21 months. 1.75 years. My, how time flies.
Oh, Daniel. It’s been a rough month or two. We seem back to the days when we called you Senor Fussy-Pants. True to your longtime nature, you are spending a lot of time sort of inexplicably upset or losing it over the tiniest of things. This part of toddlerhood is hitting you and me pretty hard. Your stubborn streak (where could you have gotten that from?) is coming through in a lot of outright defiance. And once you say “no” when you know you shouldn’t, much as I might try to offer an alternative to escalating the situation, you dig in your heels and get a particularly petulant look on your face. It’s hard to snap you out of it when you’re in a state like that. The only thing that seems to do it is sleep, which can make for some very long afternoons. I feel like I need a better approach with you, but I don’t know what it is.
That said, people who meet you still ask me if you ever stop smiling. Your smile is the best, and it takes up your whole face. You don’t seem to ever stop talking. You mimic everything you hear. You’ve mastered two- and three-word combos, a big favorite being “big garbage truck.” (My personal favorite is the super-sweet “thank you, Mommy!”) You will often repeat a word or phrase incessantly until one of us acknowledges what you’re saying and repeats it back to you. You seem to want the validation. You’ve got your colors down pat, as well as most of your numbers up to 10 and maybe half of the alphabet. You’ve just gotten into a big book phase and are constantly asking me to read to you, especially Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus. Or, really, anything that involves a bus.
A few months of gymnastics is rubbing off, and you’re hanging and swinging on anything you can find. You can climb up and down the rung-ladder on the swingset, but seem to have developed a strange (hopefully temporary) aversion to slides. You’re a little clumsy and seem to manage to fall in spectacular ways, but that doesn’t seem to put a huge damper on your enthusiasm. You like play-doh and markers and chalk.
You’re getting into a hitting and kicking phase, and the funny-if-it-weren’t-kinda-sad part is that you narrate the entire time. “Hitting Mommy! Kicking Daddy!” It’s not even always done in anger. It’s weird, and I’m not entirely sure how to deal with it. But you also typically want anything that your sister has, which results in shrieks of “my turn! my turn!” and attempts to grab the coveted object. It’s not a great situation.
But even though you can get wound up and frustrating and we can push each other’s buttons, you can also be the sweetest darn thing around and I love all of your drooly kisses.
Rebecca, my dear, you are really quite something. On the whole, I don’t think this age is hitting you quite as hard. Oh, sure, you can throw a tantrum with the best of ‘em. But they generally seem to be farther and fewer between, as well as shorter in duration, than your brother’s. Again, you are true to your earliest days. You are pretty easygoing and happy most of the time, until a switch flips and the RAGE comes out. It’s quite something to behold.
While you are still somewhat reserved with strangers, your absolute aversion to them has passed. You warmed up quickly to your uncle and Gramps when they visited this week. You are silly, daring, independent, and have clear ideas of what you want. Thankfully, you use the word “yeah” at least as often as “no.” Rebecca, do you want a snack? Yeah! Are you a silly girl? Yeah! Was that a flagrant foul in the Bulls/Celtics game? Yeah! Your expressive language is a bit behind your brother’s. You seem to have fewer total words, and are only just starting the two-word combos. Much of the time you run around spouting gibberish. But here’s the thing… you’re clearly too clever for your my own good. You take it all in and know exactly what’s going on. I suspect that gibberish you shriek is, in your mind, complete sentences. You have a lot to say. You’re also quite good with colors, letters, and numbers.
You are such an adventurous monkey. Maybe it’s your small size working in your favor, but you’re very agile. You’re great at climbing, balancing, and anything else that involves gross motor coordination. You love to draw, and use play-doh one color at a time (sometimes for only a few seconds before saying “all done!” and requesting demanding the next color). Your spontaneous hugs and kisses for me, M, Daniel, and various animals and dolls is the cutest darn thing I’ve ever seen.
You’re a spunky little thing, and I maintain we’ll see some real trouble out of you. But so far, the mischief is mostly just endearing.
The only way we could convince both of you to sit on the chair today was with Gramps and a book. You’re always on the move. You play together and chase each other, which is awesome. You also fight and scream and hit and steal, which is awesome. For as often as you seem to get under each other’s skin, you also constantly ask for the other if you’re separated for any reason. It’s very sweet.
I could go on and on about your daily habits and funny things you say and do. But I’ll stop now and just say happy 21-month birthday. How did we get so close to two?
A year and a half. Six months until TWO! As always seems the case, it’s incredible how time flies. And for once, we actually had their well-child checkup on their actual “birthday,” so I have both stats and stories for updating.
Daniel, my big Baby A, is just shy of 25 pounds (24lb 14.5oz). But the pediatrician was onto something when she commented that he looked leaner. Apparently much of Daniel’s growth has been vertical, as he grew nearly two inches in the last three months, up to around 32″ tall. That puts him right at about the 40th percentile for weight, and 50th for height.
Daniel has become quite outgoing and friendly, and showed that right from the get-go when he walked up to our doctor and asked her to pick him up. He says “hi” to everyone he sees, and frequently will repeat it until that person says “hi” back. He loved showing off the words he knows, the list of which is up past 30 now. He proudly pointed to his nose, eyes, and ears, and to mommy, daddy, and Rebecca (or, in Daniel-speak, “Nee-nee”). Everything else checked out well, and the doctor pronounced him healthy and an absolute genius. OK, so maybe I’m paraphrasing.
One of the very few concerns we have with Daniel is his drooling. He’s been a drool-monster forever, but I feel like he’s starting to approach an age where maybe he shouldn’t be going through 2-3 shirts every day, simply due to drool. (Mealtime messes not included.) Our doctor said the drool itself isn’t inherently a very bad thing, except if it seems to interfere with language (which it does not, Daniel’s words are reasonably clear for a kid his age), or if there also seems to be an issue with chewing food. Ding Ding! Aha! That was the next question on my list. Daniel has a weird thing where he doesn’t seem to chew very well, despite having a full set of 16 teeth. The doctor was not terribly concerned, but suggested we could always get an evaluation from Early Intervention to see if he qualifies for a little occupational therapy. I think I’ll give them a call, just in case. Either it’ll be nothing at all and I’ll be reassured, or he’ll qualify for and start receiving services. It’s a no-lose situation, I feel.
My little peanut Rebecca does not appear to have suffered for all the times she seems to skip meals entirely. In fact, she put on a bit more than a pound and a half to reach 20lb 10oz. Woo, 6th percentile! The measurements would suggest that she only grew about a quarter of an inch in height, but she had no interest whatsoever in sitting still, so about 30″ was just a best guess. It only puts her at about the 10th percentile for height, which I think underestimates things just a little.
Rebecca has been extremely wary of strangers the last couple of months. If she knows you or is comfortable, she’s very independent and outgoing, and will happily get a book, shove it in my sister-in-law’s boyfriend’s hands, and climb up into his lap so he’ll read it to her. But if she’s feeling uncertain or doesn’t remember who you are… she’ll give you the stink-eye, big time. She had no interest in speaking to, or even looking at, the doctor. She only wanted to cling to me or M, and screamed bloody murder when so much as approached with the stethoscope (not unlike the barrette fiasco). It was hard to get accurate measurements as she was so busy screaming as though we were about to poke out her eyes with a sharp stick. Oh my lord, does that girl have the capability for absolute rage. Ever since she was a newborn. Quiet, calm, and then red-faced in anger.
When she’s comfortable, though, Rebecca is all over the place. She shrieks (often to wake Daniel up when she’s done napping… Daniel is not always as well-rested as she claims to be), she talks to herself and to us. She initiates chasing games with Daniel, yesterday it was each of them with one end of the dog’s leash, running circles around the first floor and giggling. She loves to dance, she loves it when I sing the alphabet song. “More, more, more” she signs, and I have to keep coming up with more songs to keep them awake when we’re driving home before naptime. Her vocabulary is nearly as good as Daniel’s, give or take a few words, though Daniel is at a stage where he much more actively repeats everything I say. Rebecca, you can tell, knows exactly what’s going on. Her receptive language and ability to follow simple directions is incredible (“go get Daniel’s other shoe, get mommy’s jacket, get Rebecca’s hat, etc.” she has no problem distinguishing each item). But she plays her hand close to her chest a lot of the time. She’s clever and calculating. Trouble, I tell you. 
I wrote an entry yesterday for HDYDI about whether or not things get “easier” as they get older. And I maintain that there’s no real answer. Some things get easier, some things get harder. But despite the temper tantrum that Rebecca threw for about 30 minutes when we got home today, I really do like this age. Every new skill makes things more fun, even if it also makes things more challenging. As I said yesterday: hard is always hard, bad is always bad. But good keeps getting better.
Sorry, still no weird Vicodin hallucinations to report. All it does is make me sleepy, and make my ears feel kind of stuffy and sensitive to noise. I know, not that exciting.
Otherwise, recovery is OK. Took the bandage off, and while the big lump that looked like a 6th toe is gone, it was replaced with stitches that make it look like Franken-foot. Good times. Can’t walk very well, but I can hobble along between rooms. My stepmom dug a pair of crutches out of the basement for me, but I can’t decide if that’s much of an improvement. I’m sure it’ll all get better as the days go by, though. I mean, really, it’s only been 48 hours!
Kiddos are out for a walk with my mom and her giant dog (it’s a constant chorus of “doggie! doggie!” over here). In the scheme of things, they’ve been doing quite well. But with all of the new places and people, Rebecca in particular has become very cranky and clingy. I understand where it’s coming from, and should have more sympathy, but it’s honestly getting on my nerves in a major way. Not only is it bothersome behavior, but I don’t have my usual tools (or even mobility) at my disposal to try and diffuse the situation. Plus, due to the layout of the bedrooms in my mom’s house, I’m actually sharing a room with them. This is obviously not something I usually do, and has not made for very restful nights (a restless Rebecca in close proximity, combined with the pain in my foot… not good times).
Otherwise, though, I know people are enjoying seeing the kids, so that’s fun. And as I start to regain mobility, I’m hoping to be able to visit with some friends in the area, and maybe even get some Christmas shopping done. Wouldn’t that be something.
Today is M’s birthday, and I’m bummed we aren’t there with him. I just talked to his sister, who is on her way up to our house to visit and bring cake, and I will shortly inform M that he has a 3:00 appointment at the local Apple store to pick up his new iPhone. 
Apple took some of the romance out, since they won’t let me pay online or over the phone. But, hey, all of our accounts are joint, anyways. And he’s been hemming and hawing and I know he wouldn’t go get it on his own. I hope he likes it as much as I like mine!
Fascinating post, I know. Hopefully I’ll be up and moving more easily soon, and will manage to upload some photos onto my laptop.
In the meantime, I’m due for my next happy pill…
I’m in transit to Chicago today, but will use the joy of scheduled posts to share the day-early 16-month birthday chair pictures. Rebecca was happy as a clam to sit on the chair, flip through Brown Bear, and watch Sesame Street behind me on the TV. Daniel was significantly less into the whole idea, even when we brought Daddy in to help wrangle and entertain… Ah, toddlers.
Today’s the day. I’m 30. Woo.
It’s an interesting birthday. By no means depressing, and it’s not like I suddenly feel “old.” And yet… 30 seems to come with a realization that I’m not exactly “young” anymore, either. It’s sort of a different concept of yourself. No longer can I pretend that I just graduated from college. I haven’t exactly felt young and carefree for several years now, what with the mortgage and the kids and all of the other adult responsibilities I’ve got… but… 30. It’s not that I feel all that different this morning as compared to yesterday morning. But when I have to fill in my age on some form… 30. It’s different. Today is not particularly different than any other day. The kids woke up, ate breakfast, down for a nap. We’ll do our usual Tuesday activity. It’s just another day, and just another birthday. There are no gifts that I particularly want, other than maybe sleeping in (which didn’t happen). And yet, poof. I’m 30. Rock on. I really do think it’s only the beginning of some really great times.
The gift I’m giving to myself on the occasion of my 30th birthday is, depending on how you look at it, the greatest or the shittiest birthday present, ever. With the encouragement of my buddy Marci, we’re getting our butts back on Weight Watchers. OK, so maybe I won’t stay within my points if M takes me out for dinner this evening, but regardless… I’m starting. It’s time, and a big birthday is as good a time as any. I’m way way way too heavy, and it’s really bothering me. Time to quit bitching and do something about it. Oh, and because it’s the way my mind and my motivation work these days, I’ve even gone ahead and started a new blog about it. It’s called The Ladies of Loserville. It’s a group blog, and you’re all invited to join us. Just let me know if you want an invite. I’m declaring Tuesdays to be my weigh-in and posting day. No, I’m not going to tell you what the scale said this morning. But I got on it. I faced the music, and I had a nice healthy bowl of oatmeal and a big glass of water for breakfast. It’s a start.
Part of the reason to start the new blog is to keep myself accountable. We’re going to post “before” pictures and everything. Mortifying? Yeah, maybe. But no more denial. The other reason to start a separate blog is because I don’t want this one to become all about journaling food and counting points. This space is primarily about my life as a mom. And while all of these things are intertwined, I do want to maintain some separation.
Anyways, not the most thrilling of birthday posts, I know. But it feels good, in a determined, put-your-head-down-and-barrel-through-it kind of way. I’m sick of feelng crappy.
Wow! 14 months old! Honest-to-goodness toddlers, that’s for sure. Daniel is getting a bit better at walking every day, though still mostly crawls. Rebecca was trying to imitate more words yesterday, and attempted to both sign and say “duck,” which I must say she did pretty well! Mini-tantrums and skipped naps aside, this is a pretty darn fun age. They know how to play with more complex toys, they bring me books to read. Language comprehension is improving, and they definitely know what “sit down, please” means. Even if they don’t always want to do it, of course.
Anyways, to mark 14 months, we attempted the chair pictures again. They turned out OK, pretty cute, but also blurry from all of the moving around. I maintain that about 8 months or so was the best time for those chair pictures. But regardless, here they are, on the morning of their 14-month birthday (clapping, of course, because it got them to sit for another few seconds). As my friend Bev said the other day, there’s really nothing cuter than footie pajamas. Another reason I love the cooler weather!
Alright, so I know you all remember the saga of the birthday present my mom wanted to get for the kids, right? Well, she would not be swayed, and was dead-set on this being their present. So she finally ordered it online, shipping charges be damned, and it arrived about a week or so ago. Yesterday, good friends of ours came over with their kids to help us set it up.
It’s quite a multi-purposed structure. On the inside is what appears to be a store, complete with cash register, safe, and security camera. I guess they’re worried someone is going to try to rob the plastic playhouse?
The outside is totally schizophrenic. The front facade is red brick, with a bell on top, and you have the choice of decals to decide if it’s a school house or a fire house (M, without hesitation, said it was a fire house). (I only realized after the fact that there was another set of decals in French – missed opportunity!) Also, um, the two men involved just started putting it together before reading the instructions. Hence, M inside the tiny house with a screwdriver, after the fact.
One side of the exterior is a gas station, which includes (oddly) a phone. A phone that just hangs on the side of the structure, but isn’t actually connected. A cordless fake phone. On the outside of an outdoor play structure. We pretty much lost it within an hour. (In the picture, it should be to the right of Daniel… but it’s probably in the bushes somewhere. Maybe the security camera caught it?)
The opposite side is a market, complete with an ATM. And an arrow, directing cars… is it a drive-thru and I somehow missed that? And the back… Opposite the “fire house” facade? A basketball hoop. And possibly a soccer net. And numbers, presumably for a game that I’m not actually familiar with.
It’s odd, it’s as though someone thought of every imaginary play space and just threw it all into one structure. But hey, who am I to complain? It’s cute, and hopefully the kids will enjoy it for any number of years. Thanks, Mom! There’s still some debate as to where exactly in the yard it will live, but we’ll figure it out. Just in time for winter, probably…
Oh, and in true toddler form, the box it came in was equally well-loved as a toy by our fellow twins and playmates. Thanks to Rebecca and family for coming over to assemble and play!
Oy, what an afternoon.
So, obviously the kiddos had a birthday recently. My mom wanted to get them a good present, and decided on this outdoor playhouse. Looks like fun, durable, good for a number of years. Great gift.
Except, she lives 1,000 miles away from us. So, she figured she’d order it online and have it shipped.
Except, shipping was anywhere from $80 to $150. So, she figured she’d buy it from Sears and have me pick it up at the store.
Except, they were all out of stock because it’s the end of the season. So, she finally found it at a Toys R Us in Manchester, New Hampshire. About 45 minutes from my house. I said I could drive up there this afternoon post-nap, so she called the store and had them set one aside. Of course, it’s not like they could have sent it to a store closer to me, and of course they wouldn’t let her pay over the phone. So, off I go, 45 minutes with the kids in the car to buy the present my mom wants to get them. Fine.
Except, maybe two exits onto the highway and traffic is all but stopped. At 3:45 in the afternoon, nowhere near the city. And Rebecca is hungry/thirsty but refusing her sippy cup of milk. And Daniel is throwing crackers on the floor. So they’re both screaming. I’m regretting the trip already, and I’ve only been on the road 15 minutes. I’m considering just turning around and calling my mom and telling her to think of some other gift. But I call M, who checks the traffic report, and it looks like it should clear up. Fine, whatever, I’m already on the road. After an hour, we finally make it to the Toys R Us in New Hampshire.
Except, the woman at the service desk keeps calling the guy to check the customer hold room, and he’s not picking up the intercom. And they can’t for the life of them figure out how to spell or say my last name. Fine, whatever. 25 minutes later (oh, and the kids are no longer in their carseats, but now in the stroller… not a whole lot happier), he finally wheels out this enormous box and I pay for it, and he helps me out to the car.
Except, as we walk up to my van, we both know it. The box just isn’t going to fit. Even with the seats down, even if I didn’t have the kids with me (it was tempting to just leave them there and come back later), it was too big. He asks me if I have a truck (um, no), or if I want him to try to strap it to the top of the car (um, I’m 40 miles from home, I’m not driving back on local roads at 25 miles per hour). I thank him for his effort, but apologize and say I have to walk back into the store and return it, less than five minutes after I bought it. It was all I could do not to burst into tears. The kids beat me to it.
Everyone back in the car, time to go home. I called my mom to let her know what happened, and she started talking about my uncle’s truck and waiting until it comes back in stock at Christmas time. I’m not sure why she’s so attached to this play house, but frankly, I could give a shit. If it shows up on my doorstep, great. We’ll love it. But there’s no way in hell I’m crossing state lines for it again.
We finally arrived back home, more than two hours after we left. The kids had been strapped into either their carseat or their stroller the whole time. I think they were just relieved to climb around the kitchen while I got them some dinner.
Thanks, mom, but maybe next time just get them a DVD or something.
