2010 is shaping up to be a year of big changes for my kids.  As it is, we’re knee-deep (sometimes almost literally, oy) in potty training.  In September, they start preschool.  We’re considering the switch out of cribs for sometime in the early summer (somebody hold me). I’m trying to think ahead and space these things out so they aren’t all hitting at the same time.

But, now, we’re thinking about adding one more to the list: separate bedrooms.

I’ve long been one to insist on keeping my kids together.  We’ve had occasional periods where one kid will disrupt the other’s sleep, and there were always people quick to suggest that we separate them, at least for naps. For whatever reason, I always was adamant about keeping them together, and the disruptions always passed.

But there’s something about 2.5 that has me reconsidering my stance.  It’s not the sleep. Sleep is just fine, and I don’t think separating them would make it significantly better or worse.  No, it’s more of a personal space issue.

My kids are in each others’ faces all day, every day. It’s just the reality of young twins. We go to the same activities. We eat meals together, we play together, they go down for naps together.  A lot of times, they play together, and it’s great.  But obviously they also fight and argue.  And have very few things that are their own, and very little ability to take some space if they want it. 2-and-a-half is hitting us, hard.

I like the idea of giving them each their own room as a way to have space to themselves if they need a break.  As it is, the bedroom that they share is a space used only for sleeping.  They don’t play upstairs very much at all, just a bit of running around while we get ready in the morning.  What if they each had their own room, with a few toys and books and cozy places? It’s not a gender-related thing for me, but more of a personality one. I think my kids are close to one another, but not as much as some twins I know, who would not want to be apart from one another.

This is also a little bit of hopeful self-preservation as I get ready for them to be out of cribs. My big fear is that the end of cribs will mean the end of naps, and that fear is only magnified if they are still sharing a room at that point.

But even more than being motivated out of fear, this is really about having something of their own.  A concept that is not totally familiar to them. Oh, sure, they have their own clothes and their own blankets. And one or two toys that are designated as belonging to one versus the other.  But nearly everything they have and everything they do is shared.

Just for kicks, I decided to ask them what they thought about sleeping in different rooms. I talked about how their beds are in the same room right now, and what would they think if their beds were in two different rooms? Would that be a good thing, or did they like having their beds together?  I honestly had no idea if they’d even understand the question.

Their answer? A hearty double-endorsement for “own rooms!”  Daniel was quite clear that his bed would go in the “changing room” (the second small bedroom that currently houses their dressers, a loveseat, and the now-defunct changing table).  Even when pressed, “are you sure you don’t want your beds together?”, they stuck to the “own rooms” vote.  And while I know this may or may not have any relation to their actual reaction to the transition, it was nonetheless interesting.

In the meantime, I will shop for cute wall decorations on Etsy and make my shopping list for IKEA.  This time around, I’m actually going to decorate these rooms, believe it or not!

So, dear friends, what do you think? Have you or will you separate your preschool-aged twins into separate rooms? Why or why not?  Do you think they really need the space, or am I totally projecting?

I’m here, I’m home.

Been home for days, actually.  And yet, have written nothing.

I’m in that slightly crazed, disorganized post-vacation mode. Getting back into the swing of things, shopping for groceries, doing laundry. You know, boring stuff that needs to be done before you can feel settled again.

Except, I’m feeling very un-settled.  For one thing, my house is making me crazy.  Maybe it was two weeks with my parents, who not only have larger houses than I do, but also keep them a hell of a lot cleaner. Happy as I was to be home, I walked in my door and felt claustrophobic.  Smaller space, yes, but oh my god the clutter! So much crap! You know how you live with something long enough that you just stop seeing it?  Well, I was away for long enough that I see it again.  With a big, glaring spotlight on it.

The trouble is this: when do I deal with it?  Most of my waking hours are with the kids, who are not exactly helpful when it comes to purging a house of all of its excess crap. Indeed, they seem to be magnets for the stuff.  That leaves me with the 2-ish hours that they nap, and the 3-ish hours between when they go to bed and when I do.

That should be plenty of time, of course, but I end up doing other things. Eating lunch, taking a shower, lots of sewing, blog reading, and hiding in my bedroom with it’s blessed air conditioning window unit (holy crap, summer has finally arrived).  Alas.  Sometimes I wish I could either send the kids away for a day or two in order to get things done, or pay one of those people who make it their profession to throw out other people’s shit.

This all feels even more pressing to me than before, I think because in my own head I would like to imagine that we’ll be trying to sell our house sometime in the next year or so.  I have no practical reason to believe that’s true, but it’s in my head, so there you have it.  And it most certainly could not go on the market in its current state.

More tomorrow on other stuff that’s bugging me (I know, aren’t you excited!), but in the meantime, a few of my favorite pictures from our trip.

We had a rough morning at Gymboree… read all about it.

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Fellow HDYDI mom Krissy had a fun idea for a feature this week: showing off where we blog!  Really, it’s a “how do you do it?” question, answered.  How DO you manage to blog with twins running around?  Some people hole up with a laptop in their bedroom after the kids go to bed, some have a space all to their own.  Head on over to Krissy’s blog and find links to see where other people do their best work!

My desk is in a room off of the living room that we share with the kids.  Our boxy colonial has a small addition on either side of the house.  One side is a small, unheated sunroom off of the dining room.  On the opposite side is a (heated, thankfully) family room / den / office, etc.  If you’re facing the house, it’s on the right.

When we moved in, this room was hideously dark and dingy. Cheap wood paneling, no insulation, dark and dirty carpeting, no overhead lighting.  Bleh. [The decor in the photo is as it was the day we first saw the house, not our stuff.]

But we gutted it, and now we love it.  Bright and sunny.  It’s not a big room, 8 feet wide by 16 feet long.  Pre-kids, M and I had our desks and computers at opposite ends of the room.  When the babies arrived, we added a Pack & Play, but not much changed until we rearranged it into half-playroom half-office last June.

On one side, it’s an L-shaped desk where both M and I sit (he’s to my right).  It can be a little cozy when we’re both sitting there, but it works.  And we have a gate blocking it all off.  In some configurations, the kids figured out how to move the gate and get to the other side, but we seem to be in a good situation for the moment.

And yes, I cleaned up for you people.  It was much, much worse a few days ago.  My computer of choice is an iMac that I got last spring to replace my slow PowerBook from several years ago.  It just couldn’t handle the ridiculous quantity of photos I take.

The view from my computer (literally, taken with the built-in iSight camera) is of the playroom-half.  Frequently one or both kids can be seen leaning on the gate, shouting “uppie uppie uppie uppie!”  And I try not to injure myself as I leap over the fence to break up the latest fight over some toy or even a travel pack of wipes. They can have a room full of toys, but they both want the wipes! Ah, toddlers.

Anyways, this is where I blog.  When the kids are up, I get brief moments in my little corner.  When they’re napping, I’m probably sitting right there, feeding my internet addiction.

So, what about you? Where do you blog?

Cheryl at Twinfatuation hosts Makes My Monday.  Admittedly, my topic today is sort of an odd one, but it makes me very, very happy nonetheless.

Witness, what used to be my back stairs:

The back stairs and mudroom is our primary entrance to the house, since it’s right off of the driveway.  But it’s been a safety hazard as long as we’ve lived here.  The photo above is a short time into demolition, but I assure you, they were nearly ready to crumble on their own.  And those rusty-looking pipe/posts are what I refer to as the Tetanus Handrail.  Not safe from a “preventing falls” standpoint, and I’m waiting for someone to cut themselves on it and need to rush to the doctor for a damn tetanus shot.  Sigh.

So, finally, despite the fact that it’s January and frigging cold, we’re getting this project underway.  The back stairs are being replaced with a small wood/composite deck and new stairs.  The mudroom, which has no foundation or other support and is basically falling off of the house, is getting some supports built and being gutted on the inside. It will still be a small, oddly-shaped room, but hopefully a little brighter and more functional, and less likely to fall down.

Anyways, demo has begun and is mostly complete, and this week they will start rebuilding.  In two to three weeks (knock on wood), we’ll have a brand new entryway.  It’ll be kind of noisy and messy in the meantime, but pretty minimal since it’s mostly outside and in a confined corner of the house.

There’s a million reasons why it took us over three years to finally attack this very necessary project.  Some of it is just laziness and not making the phone calls.  Some of it was people falling through.  And some of it is me vs. M.  While I know that some couples argue a lot and it works for them, M and I really don’t fight much.  But if there’s one thing guaranteed to have us majorly ticked at each other, it’s the topic of home renovation. Don’t even get me started on the kitchen.

While I’m not a big spender, I’m a damn shop-a-holic compared to M.  Especially big, permanent-feeling home improvement projects.  He doesn’t want to spend the money (“not a good time to ’sink’ money into the house,” according to him), he doesn’t want to live through the mess, he doesn’t want to commit to a design.  Me? I want to remodel, redecorate, etc.  We make each other a little crazy.

Anyways, I finally convinced him on this one since there was a substantial safety issue, especially with our increasingly independent toddlers.  So, away we go…  let’s hope everything stays more or less on schedule.

Last night, I decided to celebrate fall and make my favorite spaghetti sauce (despite the fact that it was reasonably warm yesterday).  A tasty, hearty meat sauce (no, that’s not why PETA will be pissed), that just begs to have garlic bread to scoop up whatever the pasta doesn’t hold on to.  Mmm.  We were about to take the kids up for bed, while our visiting friend hung out downstairs.  I decided to turn on the broiler to heat it up while we did bedtime, so the garlic bread would be ready for a quick toasting as soon as we were done.  Mmm.

We’re upstairs, pulling the kids out of the tub, when M and I both looked up and said “what’s burning?”  It was not unlike the smell when something you previously cooked and spilled in the oven starts to burn.  Yet somehow even stronger and more unpleasant.  M went down to investigate, friend was already opening windows.  Smoke was coming out the back side of the stovetop, near the clock and instrument panel.  Not good.  And the burning smell was so sharp and strong that it made you a little sick just to catch a whiff, even upstairs.  Blech.

What, you ask, would cause my otherwise relatively new and perfectly functional stove to combust in such a manner?  Well… um… I have a suspicion.

Remember my post a few weeks ago about our small, uninvited visitor?  I haven’t seen him in a while and he hasn’t been a problem.  But the one time I did catch sight of him a few weeks ago, he skittered away through the tiniest of slots… in my oven.  I assumed there was a hole through which he got out. I even used the oven a few times between then and now with no issue. Um.  Apparently not so much with the getting out of the oven.  It’s possible I just accidentally set the mouse on fire.

In my defense, it’s possible I didn’t kill him.  It’s possible he crawled in there and was dead already.  Makes the story slightly less cruel, but no less disgusting.

The Sears repair guy is coming tomorrow.  I said my oven was smoking.  I made no mention of the mouse.  Isn’t homeownership grand?

Blech, blech, blech.

But on the upside, no mouse droppings on my counter.  Sorry, little dude.  I didn’t mean to…

Today marked my second trip to Ikea with kids in tow (unless you count the time I went while pregnant and looking for cribs).  This time, however, I did it all by my lonesome.  Yes, I have a majorly independent and stubborn streak, why do you ask?  Well, as the kiddos are moving from babies to toddlers (and because we gave our remaining exersaucer to Mommy, Esq.), it was time for something new in the play space.  I wanted a kid-sized table and chairs.  While they’re still a bit small and young to sit in the chairs reliably, I figure it’s a good thing to start.

The reason this is a big-ish deal is that the Ikea in Massachusetts is really not anywhere close to me.  It’s about an hour away, which is obviously no small matter when you’re dragging along two toddlers.  This requires a plan.  The plan was to leave around 9AM (aka morning nap time) with the hopes of them sleeping in the car on the way there.  Then, hang out in the store, do our shopping, and return around 1PM (aka afternoon nap time), with the same goal in reverse.  M helped me in the morning get a bag packed with enough snacks for a small European country, and we were all set.

Well.  Sorta.

For one thing, there was rush hour traffic that extended further past the city than it really should have, so it took an hour and a half instead of an hour.  But that ended up being a good thing, since Rebecca didn’t fall asleep until at least 9:45.  But, eventually she did fall asleep, so both of them got a nice little rest before we got to the store.  Then, I realized the main flaw in my plan: I did not have 2+ hours worth of stuff to do in the store.  Having already looked online and decided what I wanted, I pretty much just walked in and found it.  And then… um…  Well, it wasn’t crowded, so then I let the kids hang out in the kiddie section for a while.  Then a snack, then a walk so I could ogle the kitchen stuff, then another snack and a diaper change, and more playing in the kiddie section…  I was killing time.  Not what I had expected, though I should have.  Anyways, we ended up having an early lunch (Daniel dug the meatballs and mashed potatoes, Rebecca only wanted applesauce), and they got downright cranky.  Wanted more freedom than I could give them.  So, we got our pallet of brightly-colored, some-assembly-required plastic (and my $1 fro yo), and away we went.

This, by the way, was the part when I fully questioned the choice to go by myself.  You know me, I’m all about doing things on my own. It’s not always easy, but I’ve got practice and I don’t shy away from taking the kids places.  Well, this was an occasion when I wish I had a third arm or something.  Mostly when it came down to the cart and all of our stuff and getting it to the car. Ikea has many delightful things, but a cart with two seats just ain’t one of ‘em. But, hey, we made it.

Well, being as it was not actually nap time yet, something crazy happened…. the kids stayed awake.  In the car.  For an hour on the highway.  About halfway through the drive I realized they weren’t falling asleep, so I shifted into “keep them awake” mode.  I passed snacks (man, that will be easier when I turn those carseats around), I sang songs, I made silly noises for them to mimick.  And lo, they stayed awake.  We got home, played in the yard for a few, assembled some plastic chairs, and up they went.  And they actually took their afternoon nap, which is a rare occurence these days.  Not half bad for a crazy trip across the state.  And when they woke up…

My dog, Winnie, is a Miniature Schnauzer.  She has her good points.  She’s small, she’s super friendly, plenty of energy without being insane or yippy.  Having her around means I don’t have to clean up the floor every time I feed the kids. She doesn’t shed, is good for people with allergies (i.e. my beloved, M), and when she gets shaggy (see below), the groomer gives her a haircut and all is well.  She’s really a very sweet dog.

She’s been very good with the kids, even if she hasn’t become all maternal and protective of them and instead seems like she would prefer if they weren’t around.  She’s sort of cat-like in that way.

Speaking of cat-like… Miniature Schnauzers are in the Terrier family.  Bred to chase small vermin.  She’s supposed to be a goddamn ratter.  So imagine how pleased I was to find her lounging on my couch, while my countertop is littered with mouse droppings.

Eeew!!

OK, I know, a kitchen counter isn’t exactly the same as mouse holes in a field.  But I doubt Winnie would do any better there, either.  But couldn’t she just chase them if she sees them?

Not sure what to do about this new dilemma, but I suspect it means traps of some kind, completely purging my kitchen cabinets, and tiptoeing around in fear of a very, very small animal.  Bleh.

C’mon Winnie… earn your keep, would you?

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!

One part of my big de-cluttering effort is to get things ready for my twin club’s semi-annual sale.  This will be my first time selling, but of course, also my first time with a critical mass of stuff that I’m done with.  Last night I started going through the first pile of outgrown clothing.  It’s incredible how much there is.  Easily four big Rubbermaid totes full.  My initial sorting criteria is simply “eligible for fall sale” and “not eligible for fall sale.”  As the sale is already large and packed to the gills, the request is for only season-appropriate items.  Swimsuits and tank tops just aren’t going to sell in Massachusetts in the fall.  So anything short-sleeved, summer-y, or stained from the months of prune-juice-influenced spitup goes in the “ineligible” pile.  I say “eligible,” because I haven’t yet put price tags on anything, and reserve the right to keep some of my favorites.

Here’s the interesting thing: as much as I look at some of these shirts and things and say “oh, I loved this one, she was so cute in it!”…  I don’t find myself with any real pull to keep any of it.  Maybe it’s because we’re most likely done having kids, and even if we aren’t, I’m not going to store it all on the off chance that we have another kid three years from now.  Maybe it’s because much of it, while super cute, was purchased on sale from Old Navy, so I don’t feel like I’m wasting a ton of money.  Maybe it’s because I’m just not into hand-me-downs.  Maybe it’s because I have nearly 5,000 pictures from their first year and nearly every outfit they wore is well-documented.  Or maybe it’s because they’re just clothes.

I don’t want to kick myself down the road, wishing I had kept some of this stuff.  Kept it, maybe, just so I could pull it out of the attic every now and then and marvel at how tiny they once were and see if there’s a little whiff of baby scent still on there.  But then what?  I still have my bouquet from my wedding, but it’s just sitting there in a box in a closet.  I’m never going to do anything with it, but haven’t been able to make myself throw it away.  Will I be the same way with the baby clothes, or shouldn’t I just bring them to the twin sale and donate whatever doesn’t sell?  Let someone else marvel at how adorable their child is in that little shirt.

So, we’ll see what happens when I actually put a price tag on these little things.  I’m sure there will be some that I keep, but I think the most are getting passed along.  I don’t even much care about making a lot of money, I just want to free up the space.  Like anything, it’s a little bittersweet to be done with some of the “baby” stuff.  But at the same time, would I really go back if I could?  Not a chance.  Let the tagging begin.

I’m just not feeling 100% right now.  The last few days have felt kind of out of control.  My house is cluttered and messy.  The kids are clingy and screamy.  M is home sick.  Naps are being skipped.  Things are buzzing around in my head, but nothing quite wants to become a real blog post.

I think de-cluttering my house will be a major improvement… as soon as I can find the energy to do it.  My twin club’s sale is coming up, so that’s a major incentive to go through all of the old baby clothes and gear.  I also need to do a major clothing purge of my own, to get rid of the piles of things that I haven’t worn since well before I got pregnant, not to mention all the maternity clothes.  I can’t keep them around on the outside chance that I might have more kids at some point down the line.  If I do, I can just get a new pair of jeans.  Seriously.

But all is not lost.  In between screaming and tantrums, the kids are pretty funny these days.  Today I slid Rebecca down the slide on our swingset, and she thought it was hilarious.  Then, she realized she could climb back up.  It took her a few tries, but she kept going right back to it, until she climbed all the way to the top.  And Daniel just never stops talking.  He’s so expressive and has so much to say… I just wish I knew what it was.

Going up?

Almost to the top...

Daniel goes for a ride on his car.

(Thanks again to Snick for letting us have M&R’s old toys… they love them!)