Newsflash!

Logan figured it out.

How to go down the stairs backwards, that is. It's almost as if he watches how Emma does something for a week or so and then just decides to do it one day. Then pow! He's off to the races.

Today, he started climbing down the stairs and he did it over and over and over again, while Emma stood at the top of the stairs and went "Ehn! Ehn!".

Apparently just as suddenly she's forgotten how to do it or has determined she doesn't like him stealing her thunder.

I'm betting it's the latter.

Theory vs. Reality of Nursery Rooms

When you have your first child, you often have this lovely vision of a beautiful, safe, color-coordinated room, stocked with the latest in educational and huggable plush toys. Everything has a place and everything is in that place. All of the time.

Then, the baby arrives.

Everything changes in an instant.

It's amazing how fast you can go from this and this and this to a steaming pile of mess.

Bookshelves no longer have books stacked lovingly on them. They are naked, save for all of the paper books on top of the shelves, out of the reach of paper shredding little devils. Boardbooks are dragged around with chew marks here and there, covers barely attached. The trashcan (Who needs a Diaper Genie? Not me!) is on top of the changing table to keep marauding fingers out of stinky trash. Dresser drawer pulls are removed to keep the finger smashing to a minimum. Look at how pretty the holes in the dresser look! Laundry is tossed into the laundry basket, at least. Toys are strewn throughout the room and tossed into a large plastic bin at the end of the day. Other books and toys and clothes float throughout the rest of the house, dragged there by child or cat or toddler.

After all, you never know when you're going to need a bear in the bathroom.

Cribs are pulled out from the wall to keep the wall banging damage to a minimum. The cute little throw rug is crunched up under the wheels of the cribs in a pathetic attempt to keep the babies from rocking the cribs all across the room (Whee! Roller derby!). The closet is filled with boxes of quickly outgrown clothing and toys, but nothing is on the lower shelves of the shelving unit placed there for that purpose initially. Instead, it doubles as a climbing gym.

Well, at least it's still baby safe!

Sixteen Months

Did you know that my kitchen floor is made of lava?!

That's right. Red, hot, burning lava.

Just ask Logan.

Mr. Screamy

So the twins are 16 months old now and have lots of amazing new skills to show off. Among them is the ability to use their imaginations. Logan and the Lava Floor are a prime example. Quickly followed by the High Chair is Lava and the Floor is a Plate. What? You didn't know? You're behind the times! Keep up!

Apparently the No Baby Down Club has been meeting quietly on the side and discussing additional items to add to their Charter. They seem to have agreed that being put down to eat in a high chair is evil and that it shouldn't happen any more and that food can only be eaten while wandering around the kitchen, dining room and living room. Lost juice cup? No worries! We'll find it again in a few days when it's fermented and finish it then. You want to make dinner/wash dishes/sit down to eat? Not without a baby in your lap!

Whaaaat? This is a New World Order! There's a new President in the White House! Anything could happen!

"Aaaaaaaaaah!"

If you try to put Logan down on the floor to get anything done, he'll treat you to a scream fest that will have your ears bleeding, your head ringing and your nerves freaking out from watching him throw himself to the floor from a standing position. Crack! goes Logan's head as it hits the tile floor!

"Eeeeeeeeeeee!" Thunk.

You can't help but wonder if he's losing brain power every time he does it.

Emma, on the other hand, has been busy figuring out key skills like how to go down stairs, how to climb onto my bed and the sofa, and climb on and off the wheeled horse and rocking tiger.

"I gots skills!"

She has also climbed into the shelving unit in her closet and gotten stuck.

"Ehn! Ehn! Ehn!" comes the cry from the bedroom. Where's Emma? There she is! Stuck on a wire shelf.

You can't turn your back on the two of them for a moment or they'll shoot up the stairs and get into everything. Cat food dishes? Check! Water dish? Check! Clean/dirty laundry? Double check! Dresser drawers? Check! Toilets? Denied! Mom and Dad keep shutting the doors to the bathrooms. Dang it!

Today, Eric and I were sitting in the kitchen when the phone rang with one of its special rings. One is for Misty and another for Eric. Since Eric was sitting right next to me, clearly the ring must have been Misty. Eric answered with "Hello?" and paused. "Hello? Hello?" Giggling came from the phone.

And from upstairs.

Turns out they had grabbed Eric's cell phone, managed to dial the last number he'd called and reached our home number. Little monkeys!

Have I mentioned how much they like telephones and anything that has buttons that go beep? Yeah, they sure do!

On the food front, they seem to have decided that everyone on my plate tastes better, even if it's exactly the same thing they're eating. They now want to both sit in my lap and be fed my dinner. In order to get them to bed without making my ears bleed, I've just been feeding them that way. Then, Eric and I have dinner after they're down for the night with a lot less screaming. We do still have Caitlin to ride herd on, so it's not as relaxing as it might otherwise be (Please use your napkin. Take smaller bites. Use your knife. Sit down and eat your dinner. Please drink your milk/water. You need to eat your dinner. You're running out of time! Tomorrow is a school day and you need to go to bed in 10 minutes. Eat. Your. Dinner. You want dessert? Eat your dinner, now!).

Uh, but that doesn't happen at your house, does it?

The twins are finally, really, sleeping through the night. As in, I put them to bed at 6-6:30 pm (That extra half hour gets ugly.) and they don't get up again until either 5:30 or 7 am. They wake up soaking wet in the morning, but they stay asleep at night. Except for when they don't, of course. Two nights ago, they woke up and started laughing at each other, then fell back asleep. What's so funny at 1 am? Sometimes we hear Logan thumping his crib against the wall in his sleep(Squeek-ah! Squeek-ah! Squeek-ah! Go the wheels. Thump! Thump! Thump! Goes the crib.), but he doesn't wake up.

They have a lot of fun playing together, but we've discovered what every twin parent discovers the hard way - if there's only one of a special toy, there's gonna be a fight. Everybody wants the horse at the same time, but only the strongest survives! gets to ride it.

Logan dismounts. Or is trying to mount. They look roughly the same.

Theft in progress.

"Survival of da fittest. You said. I push harder. I gets pony. You godda problem wit dat?"

If you don't want to listen to screaming, make sure you know when both baby phones are. Why does that book suddenly look so good to both babies when neither of them wanted it 10 seconds ago?

The real reason there are so few pictures of them together now. They want the camera.

The mysteries abound.

Another mystery is this: what's so fun about pounding your head against the wall?

Logan likes to bang his head against the floor/wall/door/window and then turn to me and laugh. Then Emma tries it. Yesterday, she decided to bang her head against...Logan's.

Now that was fun.

Babies! Geez!

Look! It's the outside world!

"I gonna go out dere when it not so cold."

Messy Desk = Brain Panic

When I talk about feeling overwhelmed, it's hard to explain what's causing that feeling because it sounds like ordinary stuff: babies, housework, bills, life, etc.

Here's a visual.

Panic inducing mess.

I had a minor panic attack just sitting here trying to figure out where to begin cleaning it. I haven't balanced my checkbook in months and months. I have checks buried in here that are expiring because I lost them and couldn't find them. I have replacement credit cards sitting in their envelopes pretending that they're important enough to replace the old ones in my wallet (Expiration date? What expiration date? It's a piece of plastic, why does it have to "expire"?). Business financial information. Paid bills. Past due bills. Caitlin's schoolwork. Old drawings. Seeds. Empty photo albums waiting for me to get my act together.

Yeah.

Panic!

I still haven't sent out holiday cards to my friends and relatives for whom I don't have email addresses. I haven't sent any thank you notes, either. My business taxes are due. I have photos to edit. I really really need to back up my hard drive.

I haven't finished my library book, either and now it's overdue. I had three weeks to read a book and I couldn't do it. Normally, a book takes me a few hours. Now? Oy!

I'm trying to clean it up a little at a time. I'm breathing deeply. I'll get through this mess.

It could be worse. I could be in my closet. Don't even ask about my closet. [Shudder!]

What's your most terrifying mess?

Babies Blowing Kisses: Part II

I promised photos of the cuteness phenomenon that is sweeping Chez Hatchet and here they finally are!

First, however, Logan wants to toast the new president. May he govern well!

A toast!

Then he wanted to tell you that he wasn't interested in sharing his kisses with all of the Internet just yet. Instead, he offers you a High Five!

Gimme five! And some toast!

Emma, on the other hand, knows that you are tired of winter and is ready to brighten your day.

Mmmmmm!

Waaah!

Emma's big smile. Apply as often as needed.

Nope, it doesn't get any better than that!

Inauguration Day

Did you hear that sound? It was a huge sigh of relief from around the globe.

Obama is no longer President Elect. He is now The Man.

Ahhhhh.

Must be time to get to work!

I can't help but wonder what my maternal grandmother would have thought about this? I'm not clear on her history, but I think she was the child of a freed slave in Jamaica. Or, possibly, the grandchild of a slave. Not that long ago.

I know that when my parents got married in '66, it was a really weird time and that my mother was questioned about us kids a lot. She says she let the ignorant remarks roll right over her, but I can't help but think it must have been insulting. I know that I received my fair share of mean and ignorant remarks simply by being a child of a mixed marriage.

Now, though? To have such a child (Who is only 7 years older than I am!) be in the Oval Office? How cool is that?!

Very, very cool. That's how cool.

The Obama family are additionally fascinating to me because they clearly are a cohesive unit. There is clearly a great deal of love between them all and seeing that is so very heartwarming. I think it bodes well of the new president that he (Gasp!) loves his wife and daughters so obviously. I really hope it means that he will take the long view of changes that need to be made in office and instead of focusing on how to get re-elected in 4 years, actually focuses on how to make the world a better place for his children (and ours) to live in.

The planet needs the US to step up and get global climate change under control, if at all possible. I really hope it's not too late. I really hope that Obama will be given the grace and the help he needs to accomplish a lot before his term(s) is (are) over.

Here's to Hope!

Spelling Bee Time!

We're off to go see Caitlin in her very first spelling bee at school.

If she makes it through a single round, I'll be thrilled. If not, I'll still be proud that she made it to the bee as one of only two 2nd graders in the entire school. Awesome!

Later I'll tell you of the trials and tribulation regarding studying for said Bee.

Sigh!

- - - - -

Woo! She made it past the first round!

Caitlin's word was "topical" and she totally nailed it. It was a big thrill. I had tears in my eyes. The other girl had "forlorn" and also got it correct. The second graders made it into round 2!

In the second round, both of them flubbed their words, but that's OK. This time they were "futon" for Caitlin and "poi" for her friend. The end of the bee was drawn out when the final pair kept messing up the same words until finally, "chronology" and "blithe".

Hurrah! for good spellers!

We'll Call Her..."Houdini"!

I remember wondering why the highchair we'd bought 7 years ago had a 5 point safety harness.

I wondered how fast they thought we might be rolling it around the kitchen to require such serious safety straps. Perhaps they thought we might want to feed our baby in the back of a moving pickup truck? Who knows?!

Well, now I am no longer wondering for whom they made those straps.

Clearly, they made them for Emma.

We have two of the Chicco Mamma highchairs, one we borrowed from Val. That one was missing its straps (Lost somewhere "safe", we presume.) and the other one only had the lap belt on it. We'd removed the upper belt when Caitlin was small. She never tried climbing out.

For the longest time, Logan didn't try climbing out of the chair without straps, but on the day he figured it out, we knew we were in trouble. Now we have him lashed into it with a fabric belt. It seems to do the trick. (Think elephants with rope tie-downs - he only stays because he thinks he can't get up!) Emma, however, has decided that the lap belt is not enough of a challenge any more.

We put her in, snapped it on, walked away and then upon returning with food, watched as she swung a leg onto the tray table in a bid for freedom. Fortunately I remembered where the top half of the belt was and grabbed it. Let's see you escape this time, ya little monkey!

We're ready for a highchair roller derby in the kitchen now!

Now for her next trick...

Classroom Volunteer

In the spirit of getting the heck out of the house, I signed up to volunteer at Caitlin's school. Today was my first day.

I learned very interesting things today, but foremost among them was the fact that I wouldn't last for five minutes alone with a room full of 7 year olds.

Nope.

I'd want to feed them all to a critter with very large teeth.

They're in constant Brownian motion, they don't ever stop talking and they don't listen very well at all.

Teaching today is very different from when I was seated on the small chair side of the classroom. Now that I've officially outed myself as an Ancient Curmudgeon, let me note that I was pulled out of my first grade classroom (By the Evil Mrs. Carmen) by my ponytail and marched down to the principal's office for talking in class.

Don't get me wrong: it's not that I recommend the disciplinary methods from the days of yore (One teacher used to whip erasers at the heads of kids caught misbehaving in class; another used to drag miscreants out by their ear. Did I mention that this wasn't Catholic school?), it's just that it was a very different world back then and that teachers today clearly have the patience of saints. They need to be paid more to put up with all of our darling children all day long.

Yeah. Wow.

What did you do today? Alternatively, did you ever get in trouble spectacularly in elementary school? Spill!

Babies Blowing Kisses

Is there anything cuter?

Especially when they add in the "MMMM-Wah!" sound?

I think not!

Of course, now I have to try and capture this skill on film and those babies are tricksy little buggers when it comes to the camera. I will have to hunt them down with great stealth.

Or a long lens.

Or have Eric hold them. They've been lunging for the camera, lately.

It'll be worth it, though. Mmmmm-wah!

Talkin' Trash

I know I feel better when I start reading blogs again and start feeling all activist-y.

So I read about this guy, Dave, who was keeping his own trash for a year to see what it would add up to. Fascinating.

That led to talk about making your own non-toxic cleaning supplies and how to clean your own home without relying on all of those fun cocktails in plastic bottles.

I continued reading, because how fascinating is it to read about someone keeping their own trash? Fascinating! Especially when they write well. This led me to Garbage! The Revolution Starts at Home, a movie about a family that kept their trash for 3 months. I've only seen the first 20 minutes and it's scaring me already. And making me laugh, because it can't all be horrible dark and gloomy.

Just recently my community has decided to switch to a single trash hauler so that we don't have lots of trucks driving through every other day. Instead, the focus is on paying more for trash services and making recycling "free". Well, we already recycle and put out less trash than the average family in our neighborhood, so we're not likely to see any serious cost savings. However, I think we're going to ask for the half sized trash can and see if we can't reduce our trash even more than we currently do.

Right now, we compost all of our food waste (Except for meat, bones, and dairy.), egg cartons, paper towel rolls and the like. We recycle everything the local company will take, get our milk delivered in glass bottles and don't shop, so we appear to be pretty light on the trash scale.

However, we can do even better.

Dave is right: the problem doesn't go away when the Trash Man Cometh. It just leaves your doorstep and goes to someone else's (In the 20 minute clip, I found out where some of it is going.), which is not the same as solving the problem.

The green revolution in products is an interesting first step, but instead of thinking that you've solved the problem by buying eco-products, remember that those products in turn have packaging that needs to be disposed of as well. Beth, of Fake Plastic Fish, has been reducing her plastic consumption for a couple of years now and it is utterly striking to have a look at where she started and where she is now and how extreme the measures are that you have to take in order to get plastic out of your life (Delivering plastic trash back to the sender. Hi, Amazon!).

Most depressing to me was the talk about the North Pacific gyre - also referred to as the Great Garbage Patch. All of that trash goes somewhere and on a planet mostly made of water, that's where it's headed. Into our oceans.

What I'm trying to tell you is this: each of us, individually, needs to take responsibility for what we put out into the world. Our children, ourselves, our attitudes, our trash. We're poisoning ourselves and the planet. Every choice we make, every day, can be part of the solution.

1. Bring your canvas bags to the store.
2. Stop drinking bottled water (Unless you live in an area with polluted water, in which case you've got bigger problems than my little blog can deal with. Lobby your politicians to clean it up!).
3. Stop buying stuff you don't need.
4. Find a way to make a difference in your community.
   

Repeat.

Now I must go rescue my twins from the horror that is their crib.

Turning my brown eyes blue

"Why so sad? It's the holidays! You can't be sad now! It's Christmas time!"

I hate to break it to you, but yes, I can be sad during the holidays.

Why? Lots of reasons. Some little, some big. Some stupid, some not so stupid. Ready?

It's stream-of-thought time!

Sad because of my dad, losing his memory. Mom has asked for pictures for a memory book. Which memories to choose? Happy. They have to be happy. Which ones? I have a good one. I should do a picture for each of us. What about the twins? Do I have a photo for each? Where are all of my friends? Why is everyone too busy to see me/visit me/call me/come play with me? Where are all of Caitlin's friends? Why do I have to yell at her every two hours? Why do I have to yell at her about the same things every damn day?! Brush your hair! Brush your teeth! Get dressed! Stop that! Listen to me! Put the book down! This is not very holiday-like behavior. Stop pouting! Quit throwing a fit! Write in your journal for school! You said you wanted to be in the spelling bee, why is it such a BIG DEAL to study? Why haven't I completed shopping yet? Where's the tree? Crap! I have to bake/cook/clean/wrap/shop/write/photograph/detail/explain/sleep/play/mother/sweep/wash. Cry. There's no END to all of the bloody dishes and dirt and laundry and dirty diapers. Oh god! I'm getting old. I'll be 40 in 3 months and 8 days. Fuck! Is that a wrinkle? Now I have wrinkles?! OK, it's no so bad, but goddamn! My hair is going more and more grey! I can't get rid of my squishy belly. I don't exercise, much less get "enough" exercise. It's cold outside and grey. There isn't any snow. Can't even go out and play. Cooped up with a 7 year old that whines all the fucking time. Jobless. Eric is depressed. Eric's depression is catching. Now I'm depressed. Days are formless. Not enough sleep. I know it's my fault, but it's more fun to blame him. The twins are cute. The twins are screamy. The twins are hungry. Now they're biting me! Nursing is still happening, that's good? Isn't it? Except for the biting. Why am I so lonely? I'm never alone. I wish I could be alone. Why do I never get to be by myself unless I'm working or shopping. I never go shopping. I'm not a window shopper. Go out get what you want and go home. I want to run away. What the fuck happened to my youth? I think I wasted it all working. No money. We're broke. Lots of different versions of broke in the world, we're not terribly badly off, but it's not much fun and we don't go out. We can't go out. Babysitters cost too much, family is too far away, friends are too busy. No one ever invites us out. Except that when they do we can't go because we can't afford/find a sitter. Obsessed with a video game. Escapism. Long nights. Too little sleep. More fun to pretend the dirty floor isn't as important as a new cloak on the computer. Can't write. Can't be funny. Can't take pictures. Can't edit pictures. Why can't I ever get a card out on time during the holidays? So glad I don't watch TV, no need to see all the ads pushing how happy I should be. I'm healthy, that's good. I'm cut off, that's bad. It's "just" cabin fever. Everything is all about the twins, all the time. Our whole lives circle around when they wake, when they nap, when they eat, when they poop, when they sleep. There's a small window to do anything on either side of naps, no time to go anywhere. No place to go. Stuck in the house. Why won't they leave me alone! Did I make her this bratty or is this something from his side of the family? That foot stompy thing makes me want to smack her! I don't, but I want to. I'm a bad mom. I can't stop feeling angry. I need more sleep. I wish I liked alcohol more. Maybe that's a bad idea. Could I addict myself? Nah. I think I'm too wound up to get addicted to alcohol. Don't have lots of cash for presents. Haven't mailed any to the family. Where have my friends gone? Holy crap! Facebook is kind of cool! Look there's my best friend from Junior High! There's the boy next door (but not the one I had the major crush on, can't find him)! My sister's getting married. I still don't talk to my brother. I make my mother sad. My father's Alzheimers makes me sad. I make Eric sad. Caitlin makes me crazy. I've lost all of my super powers to the Winter of my Discontent. Nothing is green and growing. I need warmth and light and where is the Sun? I can't even read a book anymore. It takes days and days to get through a single book instead of hours. All of my time is spoken for. If I'm home all day, why isn't the house cleaner? I don't want to clean the house. I don't want to bake. I know I'm sad when there's no baking. Wait! Suddenly it's Xmas and people are coming over! Hurry! Hurry! Wow! The food is great! I need attention. I need alone time. I need a shrink. Wintertime blues. I have them. I'm getting old. One day I'll be dead. I don't want my kids to die. If they died first I think I'd lose my mind. Why can't I remember my dreams? I have no one to talk to. No one understands me. Eric understands me, but doesn't want to hear it anymore. Why am I so alone?

And then we had a few injections of time with friends.

I'm depressing. I keep almost crying when people ask me the deadliest of questions, "What's wrong?"

Misty and I go to lunch. Two hours alone, without children. By ourselves.

A big heaping, steaming bowl of happiness.

A long exhale. Talking about being tired, depressed, mad, pissed off, lonely, married, mothering, relationships, what the hell did we ever used to do for fun? Oh, all those things that cost money....

Being alone, but with a friend. Not having to listen to whining, other than our own. Eating food slowly, with someone else to clean up the mess. Feeling listened to and empathised with. Friendship.

Oh yeah. I remember this part.

Feeling like a grown up.

Deep inhale.

OK. Maybe I can do this again.

The days are slowly getting longer. Some days aren't so cold. Still no snow. School starts up again, soon. Spring will cycle back again, as it always does. I'll be happy again. Playing in the dirt. Growing things. Super powers fully recharged by the sun.

Maybe I can take a few pictures after all.

Doctor! Doctor!

We took the twins off for their 15 month appointment this morning (Yes, it was delayed, just as their 15 month post was.)

As usual, the twins got their stats checked by a nurse, only this time the nurse had zero bedside manner. Instead of doing anything simple, warm and human, like looking up the names of the twins or our names, she called us Mom and Dad and asked for our names to add to the appointment notes for the doctor. She never seemed to make any eye contact with the twins and just whipped through the initial checkup. It went south very quickly when Logan objected to being treated as a number instead of a tiny, charming person and started crying.

Emma picked up on his fear cry and started crying, too.

I was decidedly unhappy about the impersonal treatment, too. I know that nurses are busy and who knows just what was going on in her life at the moment, but here's the thing: if you are in a service industry, take the time to do it right. She's in a pediatric office, for crying out loud! She could take a moment and warm up the stethoscope, couldn't she? Say hello to the twins before asking them to be unceremoniously stripped down, weighed, measured and temperature checked. Couldn't she? Couldn't she take the 2 minutes it would have taken to have checked out the charts so that she'd know our names and then enter it into the physician's notes? I don't actually expect them to "know" everyone's names, but if you have the technology, I expect you to use it and at least pretend you know who we are and that we're more than just the 9:30 am appointment. We have been going to this office for seven years, after all.

A little warmth and common courtesy goes a long way.

Introducing herself would have automatically given her our names, as we would have returned the...courtesy.

So, anyway, after leaving us with screaming twins and her data, we calmed Emma and Logan down and waited for the doctor. She, by the way, has an excellent bedside manner. Even if she doesn't actually remember us, she acts as if she does and that gives me the feeling that she actually cares about my twins. At the very least, she engages with them, her patients. I took a moment to let her know that I was unhappy with the nurse's lack of bedside manner. I figured if someone never said something (In a nice way, I didn't go all fang-y and claw-y.), the practice would never know and the nurse would never be given the opportunity to improve. Yes, it is an opportunity to improve before you're handed an annual evaluation that says: You suck! Surveys show all of the patients complain about you! Grumble!

OK, rant over.

Data!

Logan
Length: 28.5" ~3rd %ile
Weight: 19lb 7 oz ~3rd %ile
Head: 47cm ~50th %ile (What can I say? Apparently he's got my big head.)

Emma
Length: 29.75" ~25th %ile (Ooh! An inch and a quarter taller than Logan!)
Weight: 19lb 7 oz ~5th %ile (The first time they've ever weighed exactly the same amount.)
Head: 46cm ~50th %ile (The only measurement where she has been consistently smaller than Logan. Again, she's inherited my big head.)

We were again assured that they are doing really well and that they are following along on their own growth curves. Developmentally, they are doing very well, especially in the language area. Also, walking, movement, food, sleep, breastfeeding, and teething (No sign of molars.). Absolutely fine, even if they are still on the small side. So long as Logan continues to follow his own growth curve, she's not concerned at all. However, she did mention that should he continue in this vein that we might want to consider a consult with an endocrinologist and have a look at the potential for using growth hormones.

Interesting. Very, very interesting.

Now, Eric and I do not tower over anyone (Other than his female family members, perhaps.), but we're also not unusually short. Even so, Eric has often commented that he feels being on the short side has had a negative impact on him over the years: socially and job related. Knowing that it actually does have an impact (Study after study shows that shorter men are paid less, regardless of experience.) on men, we may have to make some interesting choices later.

Personally, I hope Logan just goes into a crazy growth spurt and starts eating and growing like mad. Note that we're not particularly concerned about Emma's height. My feminist self is wondering if I should be upset about that or if I'm just glad we're not talking about 2 sets of growth hormone courses.

Sigh!

Do any of you have experience with the GH question? To get the shot or not, that is the question! Or, if you are a short male (Under 5'7" tall.), what has been your experience? I think everyone I know (Both male and female.) always wish they were about 2" taller, but if you could go back and ask your folks for a shot, would you?

Fifteen Months

I'll give you the lowdown on why I haven't been posting separately. First, here's the latest on the short people (They're more fun to write about, anyway.).

Somewhere in here, between Nov. 27th and Dec. 27th, Logan finally decided that he could climb up stairs all by himself. He went from refusing to take a single step to ascending the entire staircase in a single shot.

Oh. Well then!

Logan has finally surpassed Emma on a couple of things, first among them is number of teeth. He has both his top two and bottom two teeth, while Emma has only her bottom two teeth and a single top tooth. Apparently she's not concerned about dental symmetry.

"I not worried. I bet I nurse longer wif fewer toofs den he duz!"

The twins are down to two naps a day, now. Once after breakfast and again after lunch. Then there's a sudden hard stop around 5:30 pm, when Logan starts throwing himself at the floor* in a meltdown and is in desperate need of sleep. Sometimes, when he's not completely asleep, Logan will rock in the crib and set the wheels to squeaking (Eeek-ah! Eeek-ah! Eeek-ah!) over and over and over again until he falls asleep again. This noise doesn't wake up Emma and doesn't really seem to wake him up, either. If the twins are put down for a nap and both are still awake, you can hear them laughing and squealing together until someone finally passes out. Or, sometimes someone will start screaming and when you check on them you'll discover that they've reached through the bars of the cribs and stolen the other's blanket. (We've since moved their cribs a little farther apart to stop the blanket stealing.)

Logan has also made a very interesting developmental leap related to the vacuum cleaner (Yes, this is important! Geez!). I was cleaning their room and as soon as I turned on the vacuum, Emma started crying until I picked her up and put her in the crib where she could watch from an appropriate Vacuum Safety distance. Logan, however, just turned and walked out of the room and then sat down in the hallway while the vacuum was running. As soon as I turned it off, he toddled back in. If I turned it on again, he just left the room and watched quietly from the hall. Smart!

On the nursing front, he's not so smart, though. He's taken to testing out those upper and lower teeth on me when he's tired and the milk isn't coming out fast enough to suit Himself. Then there's the howling and fussing (Mine.) that follows.

These teeth, right here. Don't let that innocent look fool ya!

They're down to nursing three times a day (Thank goodness!): first thing in the morning, right before bedtime and then a nightcap somewhere around 11 pm. Fortunately, they're finally sleeping through the night*, by which I mean from that nightcap until about 7 am. I'd like to drop that feeding, but it seems to involve a lot of screaming. Of course, were I really smart, I wouldn't be up at that hour playing WOW with Eric. I'd be in bed. However, apparently either I really like being sleep deprived, or it's all Eric's fault.

Guess which answer I choose?

It's all Eric's fault! He makes it seem all fun and stuff!

Anyway, back to the twins.

Emma is clearly taller than Logan now, by at least .5 to 1 inch, but he has the meatier thighs of the two. I'm not sure who weighs more, so they're probably still hovering within a few ounces of one another. They love to take baths together and if you throw Caitlin into the mix, they go crazy! The squealing reaches new heights. I think I have hearing damage from it.

The twins take turns chasing one another around and stealing toys from each other. This always results in either a) screaming or b) grabbing and screaming.

Even with that thought in mind, when Caitlin and I went shopping for Xmas presents, I totally spaced it and had Caitlin buy them two separate, non-matching presents. Only after we had left the store and I was driving home did it occur to me that this was a huge mistake. I immediately informed Eric that he had to pick up a matching toy for Logan when he went out to do his own shopping (Dec. 24th, in case you were wondering. We like to go right up to the wire on Xmas shopping 'round here.), which was a good thing since this toy was the hit of the day.

The toy of the hour. The baby cellphone.

You can record messages on it. It rings. It beeps! It plays a couple of songs! It says a couple of things! It comes in silver!

The recording feature was so cool that Caitlin wouldn't leave it alone.

Then when Grammy and Grampy came over to spend the day, it turns out that they had bought one for the twins. Suddenly we had three phones. Caitlin lobbied for the third phone (which was in black) and won out. So now all three kids have cell phones. Personally, I think what she really needs is a recording microphone or Karaoke set. She just likes hearing herself sing. Perhaps for her birthday....

Emma and Logan are working on language skills, both verbal and sign. Logan has the hang of asking us for something to eat by either signing "more" or "eat" and smacking his lips together. He also says ball and bath (which sound remarkably similar, although they get way more excited about baths than balls), kitty and Caitlin (sort of), duck, baby, bye-bye, doggie, puppy, hi, dah-dee, mom-mee and hat. Emma says all the same things and also does a bunch of animal sounds for the assorted books we read. She pops her lips when we read about fish, meows occasionally for kitties, pants for dogs, moos for cows, sometimes whinnies for horses, quacks for ducks, ribbits for frogs and says Nah! or No!, depending on the book we're reading or if she doesn't want something. They probably say other things, but that's all I can think of offhand.

"I berry tock-tive. I got lot to say."

Oh, they also say "Pop-Pop", as we discovered after he babysat for us a couple of weeks ago. Nothing like a little positive reinforcement for a job well done (Thanks Pop-Pop!)! Good going, grandbabies!

They really really like cheesecake.

Grampy, Grampy's cheesecake, and a new cellphone. What more could a boy want?

They also really like people other than just mom and dad and will happily guest surf until they've found the tallest and/or snuggliest visitor in the house. Logan went crazy for Lee (Misty's husband) yesterday. They like to flirt with perfect strangers when we're out shopping.

"Who? Me? Flirt? Never! Well...maybe just a leetle!"

Which reminds me, Logan took his first swan dive out of a shopping cart on Friday.

I was bending down, right next to the cart and looking at cocoa powder when I heard Thump! and looked over to see him flat on his back on the floor, completely poleaxed.

I

FREAKED

OUT.

Except I had to do it all internally, since there I was: in a grocery store where I had to remain calm for Logan, who was inhaling for his trip to Screamville. Ever have to check your child over for blood, contusions, lumps or breaks? Check to see if they can still move limbs or walk? Yeah, that was me, trying to calmly and quietly make sure he was still OK. I swear that boy is losing braincells from all of the falls and head smashing he goes through. Poor thing!

He was fine, in case you're curious. My heart, on the other hand, was going a mile a minute. Emma was calmly watching from inside the cart. They make the carts at Whole Paycheck so small that there's only a seat for a single child. Those of us with twins either have to take two carts or put a kid inside the cart. Guess which I did? This is why my hair is going more and more grey. Whole Paycheck: you are on notice! People with twins also go grocery shopping.

Good thing they're cute.

World's longest eyelashes.

"I can see dah future: possible broked bones an' skateboards. Maybe a tree involved, too."

One of the interesting things about Christmas and the twins (Other than the fact that 15 month olds could care less.) was the fact that everyone that sent gifts was so worried about Caitlin being over-shadowed by the twins that the twins received very few gifts at all. Good thing, too, since we still have all of Caitlin's old toys. The twins have plenty of gear, other than occasionally needing clothing appropriate to their size and the season. They're still quite little and at the 15 month mark, Caitlin was in summer clothing. Caitlin, of course, was thrilled by this turn of events.

Caitlin, being thrilled. Logan, happy as a clam with his Grampy, Caitlin, cheesecake, a phone and a spoon.

The other half of the equation, with a Caitlin cameo.

The days are cold and dreary, but the twins are sweet (Mostly all the time with occasional bursts of ear popping screaming.) and happy. We seem to spend an awful lot of time cleaning up after them and I swear I've never mopped one section of floor so much in my life! Where's my Rosie the Robot?! The cycle of feeding, cleaning, laundry, and changing diapers seems unending and is possibly a Circle of Hell, previously undiscovered.

It's madness, I tell you! Madness!

Still edible.

Well, I must go. Laundry is piling up in my room and the diaper pail is threatening to overflow in a horribly stinky sort of fashion.



* Is this just a boy thing? Caitlin never did it and neither does Emma. All of the boys I know do it or have done it - the completely boneless, throwing themselves backwards onto the floor meltdown.