My Two Biggest Favorite Miniature People

My birthday girls

I can't believe it, but my twins have been five years old for a whole twenty one days.

And because I'm a mother, and this blog is not only a place for me to talk about sex positive parenting or cancer or feminism or crafting or holidays... I'm going to tell you about the children who made me a mother, and the incredible people they've become since the five years and twenty one days ago, when they made me into the woman I am now.

DD blowing out her candles

DD is maybe the sweetest, kindest child I've ever known. She's so intensely loving and helpful with her little sister, and she's so ridiculously obedient. A dozen times a day, I find myself barking quick orders, like, "Wash your hands," or "Put on your shoes," or "Please put your dishes in the sink."

She answers quietly, without pause and without bitterness or frustrations. "Yes, mommy." And every time it makes me feel guilty. Like I've somehow cowed her and intimidated her, because as an adult I would never accept authority like that. But she is so eager to please. She is so determined to earn praise. She seems to ascribe to the philosophy, "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar," and oozes honey with every gorgeous smile.

At five years old, her favorite color is Fuchsia, like Fancy Nancy. Her favorite princess is Rapunzel. Her favorite movie is Despicable Me. And her favorite pony is Rainbow Dash. She loves to dance, and wants to play the guitar.

During the year she was four, she drew me a picture every day at school. It was usually of her, sometimes of me, and sometimes of both of us together. On every picture she wrote, "I love you mommy, love DD." This year she and SI are in separate classrooms, and while once in a great while I get a picture, most days she puts tremendous effort into making cards to give SI at the end of the day.

I wonder about taking her to a modeling agency. She is so profoundly beautiful, and so photogenic, and adores being dressed up for pictures. She would be a wonderful model, and I ask myself why I don't just go for it. But I also fear what that sort of appearance based attention might do, in the long run, and how it would feel for her and her twin to excel so strongly at such different things in such a noticeable way. And as much as I want her to have fun and find success, I want even more for her to grow up without resentment and regret in her relationship with her sisters.

DD has the patience of a saint. Yes, she's still five, so she does get cranky and impatient. But 99% of the time... she has the most patience of anyone in the house. When the children spent five hours working on a single project, it was DD who rallied the troops, kept herself and her sisters focused, and completed her box without help. During nap time, for three hours every day, she lays in nearly perfect quiet in her bed. RH sleeps, usually SI sleeps... but DD quietly plays in her bed, having silent conversations with her dolls and her ponies, flipping through picture books and listening to the quiet of the house, until SI or RH wake up and she rises with them.

She has exponentially more patience than me, and she is quicker to forgive. She reminds me so much of M in these ways that I feel beneath the task of raising her.

She is thoughtful, and remarkable, and I adore her.

SI blowing out her candles

SI is so smart it scares me. Truly. I was a smart kid, and I come from a long line of very smart people. I know smart when I see it. I know genius when I see it. And I don't know that I've ever seen anything quite like SI.

My father was a child prodigy, and it made much of his childhood miserable. So he made a point when his children were born NOT to push us into academia. Not to push us into intellectual freakishness. Part of me resents him for that, what might I have accomplished if I'd been pushed to my potential? The part of me that fears for SI understands so deeply- I don't want to hurt her by causing a rift between her and her peers, and especially her twin sister.

SI came up to me on Sunday night with a nonfiction book about bats. It's a third grade educational book, filled with photographs but also dry information.

She stood in the hallway and read it to me. I watched her, at first amazed at her ability to collect sight reading words so quickly, at the vast number of words she knows not phonetically, but on sight. Only then I saw her stumble and sound them out. She was really reading. And the only word she truly struggled with (mind you, reading aloud at a conversational pace), was "weight."

I gave her the word and she paused, confused. I saw in her eyes she thought I said "wait," and the word made no sense. But she reread the sentence, and understood. Not "wait," "weight." Then she read me the rest of the book.

Before she ran down the hall, I called out to her. "How many kinds of bats are there in the United States?"
"About thirty four!"
"And where is the United States?"
"Silly mommy! We're IN the United States!"

And then she got into her pajamas and used three quarters of a tube of toothpaste to brush her teeth.

She is so funny. She loves bad jokes. She laughs from her belly so hard it makes the walls shake. She gives the gentlest, softest, most confident hugs I've ever had. While DD wraps her arms around you as though she would squeeze the love right out, SI places her arms until they're just resting against you, and lets them lie, breathing softly and smiling her special little smile.

I worry about her. I worry what will happen when she's in real school. When the teachers are trying to get students to learn words like "cat," "farm," and "bunny." SI stumbles over words like "neighborhood" and "mischievous." But only once. She only ever seems to stumble once.

She is manipulative, sneaky, and strong willed. She won't accept no for an answer, and will go behind my back if she knows it's the answer she'll get. She panics over little things like her shoe's velcro being too loose. Her favorite color is gold, and she doesn't really have a favorite princess. But her favorite pony is Rarity.

She's five years old, and she's incredible.



Now- prepare for the birthday party photo spam.

The girls chose a Butterfly theme for their party.

The children got to make their own butterfly wings to take home. This did not go EXACTLY according to plan.

Grandma and I made butterfly cookies. This was my first experiment with Royal Icing, and I think it went well!

RH thought she was sneaky, eating all the cookies she wanted.

We served hot "butterfly noodles" (farfalle) with either cheese sauce, marinara, or pesto. So everyone got a warm lunch.

Instead of a cake, we made three kinds of mini cupcakes and arranged them into a butterfly. They're chocolate, strawberry
(with vanilla flavored orange icing), and a gluten free vanilla. So all the kids could hopefully have some cake.

Last of all, the piñata. SI went first.

DD followed. There was much thwacking. The pull strings didn't work, so we had to beat the butterfly to death.
You know, birthday party stuff!

As much fun as all the children had, the most fun was of course had by DD, SI, and RH. Who are continuing to enjoy their birthday nearly a month past its end.

I can't believe I've been a mommy for more than five years.

It's been an amazing half a decade. It's been an amazing life. I'm so happy and stunned and proud- I feel lucky every day, no matter how difficult it may be, that I get to be their mommy.

Three at Two

The cheerfullest birthday girl on the block

Today, my littlest little turns two years old.

I could tell you how time has flown, how much she's grown, but I don't want to focus for one second on the past. Right now, it's all about now.

On Saturday, we had her birthday party. It was planned and essentially thrown by DD and SI. One day, about two months ago, we had this conversation:

Me: "I should figure out what kind of party to throw RH!"
DD: "I know! It should be a Care Bears party!"
Me: "You guys had a Care Bears party. This is RH's party. It should have to do with what she likes. What does RH like?"
SI: "Green!"
Me: "Yup. What else?"
SI: "Green! It should be a green party!"
Me: "That's it? Green? How do you throw a green party?"
DD: "With green food and a green cake and green decorations!"
SI: "Green ICE CREAM cake!"
Me: "...that sounds like a pretty good party, actually."
DD: "Me and SI will throw the party, Mommy. You just make sure RH's diaper isn't stinky."

I could handle that.

And plan the party they did. I tried to tell them that people would rather eat apples and grapes than broccoli, but they proved me wrong.

I taught them to make bunting, and they made enough to decorate a full half the yard. And I tended to my job- sending invitations, and making sure all the food was to SI and DD's specifications.

Honeydew, grapes, apples, mini cucumbers, celery, broccoli, guacamole, green tortilla chips, green juice
And green flowers. I was told that was important.
Plus more of SI and DD's bunting!

Of course, no matter how clean her butt, RH was a bit of a pill. I'd just come home from five days away- and she was punishing me for it.

The first day back was a dream, she lay back in her chair and just stared at me, occasionally whispering, "Kiss!" or "Hug!" Mostly just looking at me like I was an angel who had descended from heaven to rescue her from the torments of going to the aquarium daily to see jellyfish with my parents.

She spent the next four days attached to me at the hip, screaming for no reason and demanding amounts of my attention she hasn't commanded since she weaned. She spent a lot of her party crying, as despite DD and SI's planning, I was still essentially on hostess duty.

But like I said, I want to focus on now.

I want to remember what she's like right now.

I want to remember the way she says, "I yike a hair! I yike a face! I yike a pwetty dwess!" every morning when I change her diaper, regardless of what I'm wearing or how I look. I want to remember the way she flails her legs while she's running, but keeps her head steady.

I want to remember how fearless she is. How she crawls under bushes or through the mud without blinking an eye. How she tries every new food. How she jumps into the water without hesitating, much to my terror, or how she leaps off chairs, or stairs, now that she's finally mastered the art of getting both feet off the ground at once.



I want to remember how she puckers her lips into a full on fish face whenever she wants to give a kiss, and how sweet and soft her little kisses are. I want to remember how despite being a monster truck, rolling over everything in her path, she is still gentle with animals, other children, and her toys. Most of the time.

I want to remember how she participates in conversations without having a clue what's happening. How she shouts, "Me too!" about anything and everything, and will not be distracted from being included. How she insists on what she wants, when she wants it, and I find myself acquiescing because I have no real reason not to in the face of her determination.

I want to remember how until two weeks ago, whenever she said, "I lub you!" she followed it immediately by saying, "Good night!"

I want to remember the way she sings, "Shoo fly, don't bother me," or the alphabet song, or "Ring Around the Rosie," with better pitch and timing than her older sisters, even if half the words are incoherent.

I want to remember how sassy she is. How much attitude she's got. How sure of herself, and determined to do whatever her sisters do, and to be part of any joke the adults are enjoying. I want to remember the way she laughs a sound like clinking china and announces, "I laughing!" as though it weren't impossible to notice.

I want to remember the unbearable softness of her skin, and the way her hair smells, and the way that her curls flatten against the top of her head when she's filthy. I want to remember how tidy she is, and how she refuses to eat with her hands if they might get messy. I want to remember being perplexed by how she could get scrambled eggs in her nose, and at the same time how she can finish a bowl of ice cream without spilling a drop.

I want to remember how she asks for something indirectly, like, "Mommy, ponies?" And you try to fill in the blanks, "You want to watch ponies?" And she acts like it was your idea. "Okay!"

I want to remember the way she counts. "One, two, fee, four, five, six, seben, eight, nine, tan, eleben, twelf, fourteen, fourteen, fourteen, fourteen, eighteen, twenny fee!"

I want to remember how if you sing, "Na na na na na," she yells, "Batman!"

I want to remember how serious she often is, focusing on on a task until it is complete to her satisfaction. I want to remember how she seems to study the world with fierceness and determination, cataloging causes and effects and storing them away. I want to remember how much she cares.

I want to remember how unfathomably cheerful she can be.

I want to remember how she sings the theme song to "My Little Ponies," how she dances happily, distracting herself from all else in the world for ages, spinning in circles and hopping, gesturing wildly. I want to remember how she sings, "Tomorrow." I want to remember that she'll go around the room, approaching everybody one at a time, saying, "I gonna eat choo!" until they say, "Oh no! Please don't eat me!" and moves on to the next person.

I want to remember that her favorite movie is "Wreck It Ralph," and I love that sometimes she tells me, "Mommy, I a bad guy!" with an angelic grin and dimples for miles.

I want to remember how her smile lights up like sun when she's happy, even if she's covered head to toe in green frosting and ice cream. Even if five minutes earlier she was sobbing her eyes out.

I want to remember how she curls up on my lap, how she pulls me to the floor to sit on me for no reason. How she calls out, "I lub you, Mommy!" from the back seat of the car, for no reason. How she wants to help me brush my hair, and my teeth, and god help me, how she wants to tear off toilet paper for me in the bathroom.

I want to remember the way her little hand feels in mine.

But I know I'm going to forget.

I look at her big sisters, not that much bigger, and no matter how I wrack my brain it feels as though their nearly-two-ness is already gone. I can't remember them. I've forgotten my own children.

Of course, I know if the two year old version of DD or SI ran up to me, I would know them. But it's not the same.

It wasn't intentional. I was just so busy, and so tired. When DD and SI had their second birthday party, I was already pregnant with RH. When they were two years old I was finishing my degree and running through the day with M gone from before dawn until late an night.

I can watch a video and go, "Oh, yeah, that's how it was." But it's still just not the same.

I didn't have the energy to really hold onto all the moments with my twins. And knowing that, running through milestones and chubby legs and baby curls a second time... it makes it so much harder to know how soon it's gone. And so much sweeter to see it happening.

I truly am enjoying things more this time around.

I don't ever want to forget this little girl.

Happy Birthday, my littlest favorite person.

Let's not get to the next one too fast.

Merry Auld Aquaintence

The lights of my life

Hello, lovely readers! It's been a long time.

You may think I've been sitting around licking my Blogger Idol wounds. I'm happy to say, you'd be wrong.

The last few weeks have seen my little family travel up to Minnesota, spend a week with Grandma and Grandpa, come back again, and watch "My Neighbor Totoro" five thousand times as we recover from a cold virus that might actually be a terrorist chemical agent. I'm not sure. So far no casualties, so I'll assume it was actually just a bout of run-of-the-mill Black Death.

Something magical happened over Christmas. (Never thought you'd hear this Jewish girl say that, didja?) I was too ill to take pictures.

I don't have pictures of my children playing with our friends' kids. That amazing thing that happens- despite never seeing these people you love, YOUR children and THEIR children... they play together. And it's incredible.

I don't have pictures of SI begging Aunt Engineer to take her down the water slide over and over and over again. (Yes, there were water slides this Christmas.) And I don't have video of my humiliatingly public screaming as *I* went down the big water slide.

Reading "Rosie Revere, Engineer"

I don't have pictures of RH at church, laying on the floor with her feet against mine, giggling happily, oblivious to the full congregation or the organist three feet from her head.

I don't have pictures of my children hugging their great-grandmother and telling her thank you for their presents. I don't have pictures of RH hamming it up in the middle of the room with an old toy train and a Care Bear.

I don't have pictures of her sitting like a perfect angel in a tiny chair at the coffee table on Christmas Eve, eating her broccoli off her plate without a care in the world, or a picture of my big girls sitting with their big kid cousins at the big table, participating in their games like children do.

I don't have pictures of them playing Uncle Engineer's drums, riding his tractor tricycle, or trimming Aunt Engineer's Christmas tree. I don't have pictures of them coloring at brunch. I don't have pictures of them making their first Gingerbread Houses.

I do have pictures of the finished products
Aunt Engineer, SI, DD, and me

I only took a few dozen pictures of my children all week. And partially, I'm embarrassed. And I'm sorry. I would have treasured those pictures.

And partly I'm glad, because part of me is tired of always being behind the lens. Of observing and not participating. I feel I do it too much. I'm doing it now.

I did manage to take a few pictures. Of DD and SI playing their new harmonicas (SI is a natural). Of M and Grandpa putting the angel on the tree. Of my children continuing the only Christmas tradition I've ever started- actually eating the apples in their stockings on Christmas morning.

This year is was DD and RH. I'm very proud.

2013 was a long, exciting year. It was a year when I didn't get pregnant or have a baby, it was a year when we assured that I never would again. My children grew, and grew, and grew, and now here we are. Still a family. Still growing.

I've had a lot of chaotic, terrifying, or simply bad years in my life. More than my share, that is for certain. But 2013 was not one of them. For all its frustrations and irritations, this year has done more for me than many. It has done more than most. It has offered me a promise- the next year will only be better.

I wish that promise to all of you. For every year.

Tonight I'm going to mash some potatoes, drink some champagne, and hug my children tightly when I say goodnight.

Tonight I'm going to welcome the new year with old friends, with favorite pastimes, with laughter and promise.

And of course with more Batman stuff than you can shake a stick at.

Thank you for everything, 2013. I will not miss you, I have no doubt 2014 will keep me too busy for that. But I am grateful. And I will always look back to 2013 as a good year, when everyone was happy, and everyone was loved, and the world was full of magic and joy.

Happy New Year.

Today I have Four Year Olds

The birthday girls- DD in dots, SI in signs

It's been quite a week.

Last Monday, I took Poppa to a baseball game for his birthday. We watched the Pirates clinch the post-season, and it was AMAZING.

Me n' Poppa

Then LaLa came over for another birthday, and to celebrate my big girls' big day a few days early.

Another Birthday!

And then Grandma and Grandpa came to town for the party. A Care Bears party, as requested. I managed to dig up Care Bear hats and plates.

Little girls and parties are awesome.

I'd been slowly collecting lots of vintage Care Bears on ebay for months. So instead of gift bags, I had the kids do a rainbow treasure hunt.

Everyone got a different color

...and followed their streamer to find their treasure!

And the treasure? Big stuffed bears for everyone.

We even had a Birthday Care Bear Parade!

I think they were a hit.

Everyone loved their bears. :)

Also, as per request, we had "Rainbow cake with rainbows on it and Care Bears and Wish Bear and Bedtime Bear and TWO rainbow roses!"

The recipe:

That cake took me an entire freakin' day of "baking" with two nearly-four-year-olds and a basically-a-toddler. But in the end?

Worth it.

The next day M and I put together their present.

Yeah, a bunk bed. And now we're working on rearranging RH's room so that all three girls will share the green room.

And then yesterday was the girls' party at school with cupcakes. And also the present extravaganza with Grandmommy and Poppa at home. And then I barely managed to keep my eyes open to watch the Pirates CRUSH the Reds in their first post-season game they've won since the last year Poppa and I sort of went to a ball game together (we took my friend JS), and I passed out on top of the covers in all my clothes.

Seriously, when I woke up in the morning M was relieved. He'd woken up a few times in the night to make sure I was still breathing. My sweet husband.

And I really can't wrap my head around the idea that my children are four years old. And suddenly, my relationship with them has changed. I can't explain how it happened, but something yesterday- on their birthday- fundamentally changed me.

Maybe it was standing in their room while they napped. NAPPED. At the same time. At four years old. I looked at their faces, SI's pale eyelids, DD still limbs, flopped gracefully over her stuffed dragon...

I am so grateful for this time. They are everything I ever wanted. Everything. And when I look at their faces, I can still see the babies that slept on me in the rocking chair in the dark hours of the night as I sang lullaby after lullaby.

I see them, erupted into these... children.

They were flower girls a month ago- did I mention that?

Children that I suddenly trust more.

So much more that I am ashamed with myself for not seeing how big they are, how mature they are, how competent they are, sooner.

This morning I talked with the director at preschool about splitting them up. Sitting in their classroom and watching them interact with the other little kids, I saw that maybe it's not just me holding onto their littleness, maybe it's them. Maybe we're all holding onto what was comfortable, what we'd come to know.

But what we have now is a family full of growing children. A toddler who might not toddle but can practically have a conversation.

And sometimes supporting them means pushing them a little outside their comfort zone.

...

Speaking of being pushed outside of my comfort zone, today is the day that the first Blogger Idol challenge goes live at noon. The first challenge was... writing your own eulogy.

If you're wondering why this post wasn't funny, I used up all my humor energy writing that one. So go read it for a few belly laughs!

And hey- you can play along!

So read my eulogy! And vote for me! YOUR VOTES MATTER. If you don't vote, I don't get to win- AND I WANT TO WIN!!!!

So read 'em! And vote! AND VOTE FOR ME!!!!