Interrupted Wanderlust

Moving Forward

2011-07-12T14:37:00.005-04:00

Thank you so much for your outpouring of support following Louie's passing. The emails, Facebook messages, and comments here helped ease the pain.

I still miss him terribly. His photo sits on the ledge over my kitchen sink, right beside the clay mold of his paw prints, which the emergency vet's office took of him following his passing.

At times, I still think I see him walking around the house, until I do a double-take and realize it's either Chubbie or Claudia, one of my two other cats.

His death has left a giant hole in my heart.

I bought this stone for his grave in our backyard. I had the kids paint rocks to place around it. Several times a week, I sit in the chair I've placed nearby and remember him.

.

Those who say, "He was just a pet" have obviously never loved an animal.

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This blog celebrated its 6th anniversary on July 5th. I hardly feel like it's worth noting this past year, since posting has been so sporadic. But there are a handful of you who have been reading here for many years, and that's something worthy of recognition.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for sticking around here when my posts have been few and far between. One day I'll start writing with greater regularity again. I miss writing here.

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So, what's been going on?

Well, these two are *this close* to being potty-trained, at least during the day. Luci is ahead of Nicholas in the "waking up dry" category. Potty-training 2 two-and-a-half-year-olds has not been the complete nightmare I thought it would be (although this is probably because the hubs has taken the reins on the majority of the training, as he did with Isabella).

Yes, there are times when I am awash in bodily fluids (and solids, sorry) and it is chaotic shuffling between the two of them and who needs to go and who prefers the potty chair to the potty seat fitted over the toilet in the bathroom, and Oh My God, do NOT stand up mid-stream, but we're getting there.

This one is *this close* to swimming. After two weeks of swimming lessons, she now jumps in on her own, goes underwater on her own, and even "swims" underwater on her own. No floaty life jacket needed all summer long. She still needs help on stroke technique and proper breathing, but after some private lessons later this summer (she took group lessons at my gym's pool), I'm hopeful she'll be very close to independent and actual swimming.

All three of the kids were in my cousin's wedding over 4th of July weekend. Surprisingly, no one ran screaming down the aisle. They performed like little trained monkeys, making me question who swapped out my Twinsanity for two robots kids.

And I donned a fancy dress, and posed with my sister for posterity, because the last time I was this dressed up, I was getting married, 10 years ago.

My job is going well. For the past 6 weeks, I've been working on copy for my health club's new website (launching Friday), instead of working on the social media strategy and training for the social media managers at each of the clubs. But the site launches Friday, and soon I'll return to doing my "real" job. I'm heading back to Chicago in August to train 10 social media managers on the new strategy. Jaime and Tracey: what are you doing the 3rd week in August???

And that's about it. The summer schedule is in effect here, with Isabella in camps most of the summer (this week, it's "Discovering Plants" at our science museum, followed by Jazz Camp at a music school next week). Luci and Nicholas are even going to a week of camp with the hubs the last week in July. I love, love, love our science museum's summer camps.

We have no summer vacation plans, but maybe you do. Allow me to live vicariously through you.

Where are you headed?

Louie 4/30/98 - 6/12/11

2011-06-12T16:48:00.023-04:00

This afternoon, I kissed my sweet Louie on his soft head over and over. I told him what a sweet kitty he was. How I will never forget him. How thankful I was to have had him for 13 years.

And as a veterinarian in the emergency vet's office, a place I had promised him I would never take him again, after his inoperable diagnosis on New Year's Eve, pushed the medicine to send Louie to kitty heaven into his vein, I whispered in his ear over and over, "I will love you forever. I will love you forever."

In a matter of seconds, he was gone.

It has been a long goodbye.

Since his diagnosis of vaccine-associated fibrosarcoma in November until early May, Louie's decline was slow. The tumor on the scruff of his neck was growing, but his behavior was unchanged.

It opened up at times. Small, nickel-sized pockets in the center of the beast that would claim his life, but two weeks of antibiotics would clear up the open wound and the underlying infection. He was eating. He was drinking. He was snuggling with his mama, Chubbie, just as he did every day, on the ottoman in my office.

In early May, things started to change. His tumor began to spread rapidly. It began to open up much larger than it had before. It was draining and had an odor. And Louie, a kitty who had never been very sociable, and who only emerged from hiding after the kids had gone to bed for the night, suddenly was around all the time.

He began sleeping in strange spots, places in the house he never visited before. He developed a slight limp, a sign that the tendrils of the tumor were wrapping themselves around the scapula bone of his shoulder. He had difficulty climbing down the stairs.

And yet his appetite was good. Excellent even. He was eating all the time, from the feeding stations I set up around the house for him, so he never had to be too far from his food or water.

By the end of May, he had begun coming into our bedroom in the middle of the night, usually around 4am, and meowing. I began getting up, going downstairs, and giving him some tuna I had been buying for him. From that point on, every single night, he would come into our room somewhere between 2am and 4am meowing loudly. I would give him the tuna, and yet 30-45 minutes later, he would be back up meowing again. I would go downstairs, he would follow me, and I'd spend time with him on the kitchen floor. Brushing him, petting him, talking to him. I think he was lonely. Chubbie had stopped cuddling with him suddenly a few weeks prior.

Eventually, he would head to the adjoining dining room, curl up on his blanket I'd placed there once I saw that he had picked the location as one of his new favorite spots to sleep, and he'd take a nap. By this time, I was wide awake. It was 5am, and sometimes earlier. I rarely went back to sleep.

Two weeks ago, he started another round of antibiotics to see if the medication could get the infected tumor under control. At that point, I knew our goodbye would be soon.

It became clear about a week ago that the antibiotics were not working this time.

He had begun having accidents around the house. He was meowing at me constantly. He would sit and stare into space. He seemed restless and unable to get comfortable.

Last week, I called his vet and told him the antibiotics weren't working. He said he could prescribe a stronger one, but because Louie's cancer was incurable, it would maybe buy him a few more weeks. I thought about what to do for a day, and then called his vet and told him it was Louie's time to go. I didn't want to put him through another round of antibiotics, especially when getting him to take his medicine was so difficult for him. I could sense a more rapid decline this time.

I was waiting for Louie to tell me it was time. I think his cries, his plaintive meowing, were telling me to help him. On Wednesday, his vet was to come to our house and euthanize him.

This morning, I awoke at 6:30am and knew something was not right. Louie hadn't come into our room in the middle of the night, as he had been doing every night for weeks. I went downstairs and discovered he'd had an accident on his blanket. He was sleeping next to it. I gave him some tuna. He ate a few bites, and laid down in the spot where his blanket was (I had put it in the washing machine).

Once the kids got up, he headed upstairs. About half hour later, I heard the horrific sound of his small body tumbling halfway down the stairs. He tried to stand, and couldn't. He would take a few steps, and lay down. I felt his limbs and moved them, and he didn't react. Nothing seemed broken. I placed him on his blanket. My friend was knocking at the door to pick me up for a planned breakfast out.

I hesitated in my decision to leave. And then I did.

The text from home came about an hour later, telling me that Louie's limbs were twitching and to come home soon. We left the restaurant immediately. He was on the blanket where I had left him. Louie lifted his head to greet me. It was clear something was very wrong, and when the hubs came in from outside, where he'd had the kids playing so they wouldn't bother Louie, I told him we needed to get Louie to the vet.

He brought in Isabella. I was a mess, and together the hubs and I told her what she already knew. That Louie was sick. His body wasn't working. And then we told her that after right now, she wouldn't see him anymore because he was going to heaven. She was confused, but stroked his fur on his back one last time, and told him she loved him. Then the hubs packed up the kids and took them to my grandma's for the day.

I spent the next 15 minutes gently petting his head and body. He purred loudly. He was with me, responding to me, reacting to my touch.

And then all of a sudden, he wasn't.

His eyes turned glassy. His breathing was labored. His body was on the blanket, but Louie was gone.

His limbs went through spastic movements every few minutes. I was alone. And I was hysterical. I was losing him.

I called his vet's, which was closed. I then called the emergency veterinary office and told them we needed to bring Louie in.

It was time.

When the hubs came home, I wrapped Louie in his special purple blanket, and held him in my arms for half the car ride to the vet's, my tears coating his soft, gray fur. Midway there, we had to transfer him to his cage because he was agitated. Once there, we entered the same room I had been in when Louie received his inoperable cancer diagnosis. It had come full-circle.

The end wasn't supposed to come this way. I promised Louie I would never take him back there. He hated going, and our vet has made house calls for over 10 years for the cats' annual house calls because Louie hated making the trip. I wanted his end to come at home, where he felt loved and safe.

And yet in the end, we had to give him the gift of an end to his suffering in a place not of our choosing. I've heard from my sister and my friends in the past week how euthanasia is truly a gift. Our beloved animal companions needn't suffer.

This agony is part of sharing life with animals. Their lives, when compared to ours, are tragically short. And yet knowing this does not make the end any easier.

I know Louie had a wonderful life. He was able to spend each day of his 13 years with his mama, Chubbie, whom he adored, and his sister, Claudia. And while he was a skittish kitty, did not like loud noises and men, and only sought attention (until he got sick) when the kids were in bed for the night, and then only from me, never the hubs, he was given love and attention whenever he sought it.

And while he was never a lap cat, or even a socialable kitty, over the last two months, he was. This awful, horrible, pharmaceutical company-manufactured cancer, which Louie got from his rabies vaccine, took his life, but it also lowered his inhibitions. He became so much more of our daily lives because he spent his days on the main floor of our house, eating in the kitchen, sleeping in the dining room, and visiting the family room, instead of hiding upstairs until the house was quiet. The kids got to know him better. They talked to him. They pet him. They loved him.

And he loved them.

We took Louie home with us, and buried him in the backyard. The hubs bought a beautiful Japanese tree and planted it beside the grave. It is Louie's tree. The vet's office gave us a clay mold of Louie's pawprints. I have it sitting on the counter in my kitchen.

My heart is broken. I feel in so many ways that I let him down. I am full of rage over the how and the why of how he came to have cancer.

But these feelings won't bring him back. Instead, I take comfort in knowing he's no longer suffering, that he's in a body that's whole and not broken, and that he's scampering through heaven with my childhood cat, Cheena, and my mom's beloved dog, Chelsea.

I love you, sweet Louie. You will live in my heart forever.

The Graduate

2011-06-07T13:23:00.003-04:00

It's been more than a month since I've posted.

There's been loads of work stuff (all good, though, since I am loving my job).

There's been kid stuff, and trying to juggle the kid stuff with the work stuff.

There's been running stuff (my new exercise schedule includes runs 4 times a week at 5:30am, before the hubs leaves for work).

And there's been Louie stuff. He is not doing well. Our goodbye is near, and this affects me so deeply that I cannot even write about it here. Not yet, anyway.

So today, I'm writing about my graduate.

Today was Isabella's last day of preschool.

She was so excited on her first day last September:

And today, this little girl headed off to the big K in the fall, is still as excited about school as she was when the year began:

Her end-of-the-year picnic took place this afternoon. She'll see a bunch of her preschool peeps in the school's summer camp, which runs three mornings a week next week and the week after. And of course, many of them live in our school district, so she'll see them at Kindergarten.

At the end-of-the-year picnic last year, I found myself much more emotional than I was this year (and she was headed back to the same preschool at the start of the school year). Isabella had had such a wonderful first year experience, she loved school, and had made many friends, so I felt a certain loss for her. I was worried that maybe her second year wouldn't be as great. That she wouldn't love it quite as much.

But she simply thrived this year too, and matured in many ways.

I constantly think how lucky I am to have a child who loves learning and the structure of the school environment.

In September, she'll head to half-day Kindergarten. She'll ride the bus. She'll have much more structure, more routine, and higher expectations than she's experienced to this point.

And I think she's going to rock it.

Luci and Nicholas at 2.5

2011-04-30T13:30:00.005-04:00

Wow. I think this is officially the longest I've gone without posting. I'd like to say things are going to change now, but that's just not true. My new(ish) job, the kids' schedules, and the insanity of life in general are eating up even the tiny bits of time I once had to devote to this blog once or twice a week.

And I also must confess that I've found microblogging a lot easier and more time-efficient. I can share a news story or an opinion on Facebook and quickly and easily talk about it with friends. I still want to continue this blog (which will celebrate its 6th birthday in July), but until I have a more regular schedule (ha), updates won't be frequent.

Now, on to the Dynamic Duo, who turned 2.5 two weeks ago.

We have officially entered the Land of Why.

"Nicholas, get your coat on."

"Whyyyyy?"

"Because we need to take Isabella to preschool."

"But, whyyyy?"

"Because if we don't leave right now, she's going to be late."

(Pensive look. Perhaps it's finally sunk in)

"Why? I don't want to go!"

Oy. This boy.

Both Luci and Nicholas love asking "why?" as a response to just about everything I ask them to do now. It's cute for awhile. After all, I'm a big "why" girl. I need to know why, so it makes sense that as my children, they do too. But it's "why?" times two, which means I am constantly (and I mean, constantly), talking to them.

Every dream Nicholas had came true a few weeks ago when we bought the boy a pair of red shoes. And of course, true to form, he is obsessed with them, and pitches epic fits when we try to get him to wear the more traditional pair of shoes we also got him, for those less-than-red-worthy occasions.

Nicholas creates elaborate bedtime story plots for me to tell him while I'm rocking him. Isabella also started to do this when she was about 2.5. His story de jour revolves around our neighbor, "Miss Kim," who takes Nicholas for a bike ride, then inside her house for a snack. He also asks for a story about a baby crab who is lost on the beach and looking for his mommy.

This one's got a vivid imagination.

He is still not napping well (he averages maybe two a week). I put him in his crib at naptime each day, though. He spends most of it yelling, "I'm tired!!!!!"

He absolutely loves to tell anyone and everyone who will listen about the grave injustices his twin sister imparts on him and others.

"Luci bit me on my arm, and pulled my hair."

"Luci hit Alyssa!" (Their babysitter.)

"Luci said, "Shut up!" (a lovely bit of language they picked up from watching Annie.)

Are you noticing a theme here?

This one (who looks like the living embodiment of sunshine and sweetness) has tiny little horns tucked under her mass of curls.

She is a button-pusher, or what my family likes to call "a scorch" (definition here).

Luci is not only fearless (she has begun to scale her highchair like a rock wall and plop herself into her seat with zero assistance from me), but she is stubborn, obstinate, and enjoys giving all authority figures in her life a symbolic "F-you." I see skull tattoo and obscure piercings, prison, or a CEO position in her future.

She is also the most physically aggressive of the three kids, which is something we're working on curbing.

Her bond with Isabella continues to tighten. She tells Isabella almost every day as she leaves for preschool, "I'm gonna miss you." The bottom lip comes out. There are tearful hugs. It is quite cute.

Potty training was attempted for approximately one day back in the beginning of the month. The hubs, who for the most part managed Isabella's transition to underwear, tried with Luci and Nicholas, but quit the next day. They will both go if you place them on the toilet. Sometimes, Nicholas will tell you he has to go, and will do so. But for the most part, neither tells us in advance that he or she has to use the facilities. The hubs declared them "not ready" and so we've kept the potty out and available, but it's not being used on a regular basis.

They must be trained by September, once preschool begins. Other than that, I'm not in too much of a hurry.

While these two are still high-needs, scream a lot, and fight like the Sharks and the Jets, times, they are a'changing. The number of moments during the day when I want to throw myself off a bridge because I can't take one more minute of their constant whining and crying are fewer. Whether that's a change within myself or as a result of their changing behavior, I haven't yet determined.

The older child, twin toddler mix is interesting. When Isabella is taken out of the picture (when she's at school or elsewhere), Luci and Nicholas are better behaved. When she's around, she tends to instigate them (and they, her), and sometimes all three argue over the most insignificant events.

That said, she also occupies them, directs them in some very fun games, and helps them get dressed, etc. And they absolutely idolize her too.

Luci

Current Likes: Her dinosaur stuffed animal, whom she named "Monster,"

Current Dislikes: Eating without a battle

Nicholas

Current Likes: Quinoa, finishing Luci's copious leftovers

Current Dislikes: Routine disruptions

Just Round to 40

2011-03-30T00:00:00.002-04:00

The hubs is 4.5 years older than I am, and has taken great delight the past few weeks in taunting me with the fact that 35, my current age as of today, rounds up to 40. "Hey! When I turn 40 in September, we'll be the same age!" Not that there's anything wrong with 40, of course. I know many fabulous men and women in the 40+ category. Hell, my gym is full of over 40 women who look half their age. And I've never been one to sweat birthdays. What's one more year? Birthdays have ceased to be occasions for giant celebrations. I didn't even go out for dinner on or near my birthday for the last two years, although this year, the hubs and I were able to go out on Saturday for a pre-birthday dinner because mamacita was in town and babysat for us. I'm not a big celebration kind of gal anyway. So this year, I'm slipping into 35 quietly. I've moved into another race age group (35-39), which gives me better odds of placing in races since I'm at the younger end of the category rather than the older. My mother bought me wickedly expensive anti-aging lotion as part of my birthday gift. Based on the tired-looking hag that greets me in the mirror each morning, I'm thinking I should use it. Liberally. Permanent bags under my eyes notwithstanding, I feel good about where I am this year. My new job is awesome, and even though I am working crazy hours with a less-than-ideal childcare situation, it is exciting to be on the cusp of something innovative and exciting for my company. I'm still tired. I still sometimes feel that motherhood is swallowing me alive. I still need to at least try and achieve a work-life balance. But this year, I've taken a giant step in the right direction. So, 35? Bring it.

Hitting the Surface

2011-03-24T13:48:00.001-04:00

Three-and-a-half years ago, I wrote this post about my decision to quit my full-time job to freelance. Six weeks later, when Isabella was 13 months old, I left the corporate world. I had been working full-time from home since she was about six weeks old, having cut my maternity leave short for my employer, since the person they hired to temporarily fill in for me while I was out turned out to be a flake.

I've freelanced (technical, marketing, and social media writing) and taught English and New Media online since then. I have been fortunate that the work has been steady, even in this economy.

But as anyone who holds a job and is also the parent to young children knows, it is very difficult to juggle work, family, and personal time. I often felt that I did neither of my "jobs" (motherhood and writing/teaching) very well. One always suffered because the other demanded my time. My office doesn't have a door. I was constantly interrupted. My childcare situation was basically non-existent. I worked 7 days a week, 7pm-midnight, and as much during the day as two sporadically napping toddlers would give me.

But beyond the time-management and logistical stresses of freelancing, beyond the fact that I had little-to-no time to run, to read, or just to veg out on the couch watching bad reality tv, was the fact that I was not enjoying my time at home with my kids.

The pressures of work existed simultaneously with the ever-present needs of my children. And while in my professional life I thrive on pressure and even enjoy it, I often felt like my kids were swallowing me alive.

And if I'm being completely honest (and if you're a long-time reader, you know that here, I always am), the transition from having worked full-time for 10 years to freelancing while staying home with first one, and then three children was really difficult. For me, motherhood is the hardest job in the world. I am not a natural mother.

Building endless block towers, changing endless diapers, and meeting endless needs are part of motherhood, but I had spent the 10 years prior to having Isabella working jobs that while not perfect, provided me with a sense of accomplishment and achievement. There are no accolades for a job well done in the motherhood. And while spontaneous kisses and hugs, cuddles, and stories told under warm blankets are awesome, I needed more than those could give me. Even though I freelanced and taught, I lacked that professional adult communication I needed. I lacked the feeling that I was contributing to something greater than a perfect peanut butter sandwich. I had abandoned a huge part of my pre-motherhood life, thinking that it was the right choice for me and for my family when perhaps it really wasn't.

Which leads me to this:

One of my freelance gigs is writing the blog for my health club and maintaining their Facebook page. They wanted to further develop their social media programs and asked me for a quote. A few weeks ago, they offered me a full-time job as the Social Media Director for the parent company that owns my health club and 10 others (9 in the U.S. and one in Montreal). It is an incredible opportunity about which I am ridiculously excited. There is some travel involved. I went to Montreal for one day a few weeks ago. In April, I'm headed to Chicago. I am engaging on a regular basis with really smart and educated people, who are eager to learn how social media can help their clubs. I'm at the start of something great that will hopefully change the way business and marketing is done in the clubs. The job marries my loves of fitness, writing, and new media. It's as close to perfect right now as it could get.

The job is remote, which means I can continue to work from home. They bought me an iPhone and an ultra-fast business-class laptop is on its way. I've finally, after so many years of winging it, hired a babysitter who comes in the afternoons, Monday-Friday. In the mornings, I either take the kids to my health club and work (or sometimes work out) there, or one of my relatives comes over so I can work. I still work many hours at night. It's not an ideal situation yet. I need more childcare help, and will hopefully figure out a better schedule soon, which will of course change again in the summer and again in the fall once school begins for the kids, but it's a start.

It's early days still. There are kinks to straighten out and adjustments to be made.

But I've long felt I would be a better mother if I worked full-time.

After several years of feeling like I'm drowning, I finally feel like I'm hitting the surface.

Isabella at 4 and a Half

2011-03-17T14:34:00.002-04:00

Not a week goes by without someone commenting on how much Isabella looks like me.

We have the same facial shape, the same eyes, the same (unfortunately thin and limp) hair, and until I recently chopped mine off, a similar hairstyle.

The older she gets, the more apparent the similarities are becoming.

And the older she gets, the more I enjoy motherhood. Of course, all ages have their special qualities (just please don't ask me to name any special qualities about the age of two right now), but (dare I say it), parenting Isabella right now is fairly easy.

The kid loves her routine. Take away her morning viewing of The Fresh Beat Band or her CocoPop after dinner and her head is likely to spin around while vomit spews forth from her lips, but in general, I can reason with her. She is (mostly) kind and gentle with her brother and sister. She says sweet things like, "I love you to the moon and back" and "Thank you for making this delicious dinner, mommy."

I have no problem admitting that I enjoy parenting her much more at this age than I did when she was younger. Some people are baby people.

I am not baby people.

Shocking, to those who regularly read here. I know.

Isabella has developed some new interests. After 4.5 years of having zero interest in her clothes, she now wants to pick them out every day. And every day, she wants to wear a skirt or a dress, which coming from a little girl who is not girly, I find this new passion disconcerting.

Having recently finished Cinderella Ate My Daughter, I am now more aware than ever about her developing self-image, and I've asked her why she wants to wear just skirts and dresses. Her reply, "Because I look pretty in them."

(Head hits desk.)

I have made it a point to tell her that she looks beautiful or pretty no matter what she wears. In her pjs. In jeans and a tshirt. Covered with paint from one of her many ongoing art projects. I do not want her to believe that beauty is only tied to what she wears or looks like.

And I'm wondering where her belief that it is even came from. She does not watch commercial tv. She hasn't had exposure to the Disney princesses. So, where?

She recently finished her 10-week "Clay Play" class at my city's art gallery, which she adored. This summer, she wants to take a drawing class there, and I plan on enrolling her. Her summer schedule will hopefully be a busy one again this year, as she'll take more mini camps at our science museum, swimming lessons, a two-week camp at her preschool, and possibly one more camp, which focuses on multiculturalism.

Speaking of the science museum, we visited an awesome new dinosaur exhibit there a few weeks ago. Gigantic, animatronic, roaring dinosaurs, and (Isabella's favorite), dinosaur babies hatching from eggs. She was in her glory.

Next week, I'll register her for Kindergarten, and I'm wondering if at some point I'll begin to feel those pangs most mothers feel about their oldest going off to real school. But right now, I am so excited for her. I am very lucky to have a child who loves school. I think she will thrive in her new environment and I don't feel sad that she won't be around as much as she is right now (although since it's half-day Kindergarten, she'll only be in school 30 minutes more a week than she's in preschool each week now, but the bus ride will add extra time to her day) because where she's headed is going to be so much more fun than what I can do for her at home.

Hopefully, they'll allow her to build drag queen snowmen with glittered and painted rocks during recess.

Current Likes: Twin coercion, fashion, and building forts in the living room

Current Dislikes: Sleeping past 6:30am.

Luci and Nicholas at 28 Months

2011-03-04T14:50:00.001-05:00

In many ways, these two are changing on a daily basis.

We're working on saying "please" and "thank you" (Luci is the more polite of the two). Potty training has begun (led by the hubs, who successfully trained Isabella while I had two infants attached to me 24/7) and both are regularly using the toilet when he puts them on it. And both are chattering up a storm and using complete sentences (although Nicholas is still ahead of Luci in this area).

But in other ways, we're still treading water. Nicholas is still a high-needs grenade who needs careful handling or else he will explode into an epic tantrum from which he cannot be consoled. Luci is still obstinate and an instigator. They fight each other every five minutes, and the screaming is still there. The screaming that is Dante's 10th Circle of Hell. The screaming that I can still hear long after they've gone to sleep for the night.

Luci and Isabella have developed a sweet relationship. Of course, the older sister uses the younger as her personal pack mule and maid-servant, but overall, the two play very well together. Favorite games include "cats," where they crawl around on the ground meowing, and then the variation, "Cat Mama," when Isabella is the mother cat and Luci is the baby cat who needs care and attention. They hold hands in the car and love to dance with eachother.

They also sit together on the oversized chair in the living room after dinner for their TV time and snuggle under a blanket. Luci wants to do whatever her sister is doing, which sometimes works, but often does not, especially when Isabella's much-loved art supplies are involved.

Luci is a good listener. When I'm trying to hustle the four of us out the door to the gym or preschool, she will do as I ask and wait for me where I ask her to. Her brother does not.

She loves to say, "This is delicious!" and to tattle on her brother ("Nickey eating off the floor!" "Put Nicky in TIME OUT!").

And she's mellowed. I can reason with her now, and while she still has an explosive personality when triggered, she does not spend the majority of the day crying anymore (unless she and Nicholas are fighting).

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is another story.

Nicholas is very smart, as Isabella was at his age. He can identify every letter of the alphabet, and knows the sound each letter makes. He speaks in complex sentences, sometimes 10 or more words long. He has a gigantic vocabulary. And he remembers events that happened months ago, and brings them up with no prompting on my part.

But he is so temperamental. Usually within 10 minutes of getting up in the morning, he's screaming. The shirt I picked out for him to wear isn't red. His breakfast isn't ready. His breakfast is not what he wanted. He doesn't want his diaper changed. He wants the brown shoes and not the blue.

His needs are crisises. All of them.

I feel like I am constantly walking on eggshells with him, scared that if I say or do something to tip the apple cart in his brain, he will explode into another of his tantrums, and I won't be able to stop the screaming.

And yet he is so sweet when he's not miserable. Multiple times a day, he will run at me, huge grin on his face, arms outstretched, and bear-hug my legs, saying, "I love you, mommy!" He gives spontaneous kisses (with more "I love you, mommy!"s) all the time. He tells me, "You look so cute!" and "I like your shoes." He charms the pants out of everyone he meets.

I'm hoping for an evening out of his personality very soon.

Nicholas is currently wearing 24 month clothes and some 2T. Luci still wears some 18-month clothes, but mainly 24 months. It feels (and I've been told) that there is a huge weight difference between the two. Nicholas is solid. When I lift him, it feels like I'm heaving a cement block. I can actually pick up Isabella easier than I can Nicholas (although she obviously weighs more), simply because the weight is distributed across a bigger frame. Luci is petite and practically weightless in comparison to her brother.

Luci

Current Likes: Wearing headbands, dancing, drawing

Current Dislikes: Bedtime and naptime

Nicholas

Current Likes: Bringing me play-food meals while singing "Happy Birthday," building block towers

Current Dislikes: Following directions, peace, calm, and quiet

Oh, The Humanity

2011-02-21T14:17:00.010-05:00

I promise I didn't write that last post with the intention of not posting again for almost two weeks.

The day after that post, I woke Nicholas up from his nap (the mere fact that he did nap instead of singing show tunes in his crib for an hour should have been my first clue that something was up) to discover the poor baby covered in massive amounts of vomit. 20 minutes after I woke him, I was due to pick up Isabella from preschool. I quickly changed his clothes, picked chunks of puke out of his hair, woke up Luci, got them into their winter gear, loaded them into their carseats and drove with the window down in 20-degree weather because the smell, OMGTheSmell, was so awful, to preschool.

Nicholas bounced back pretty quickly. The rest of us were not as lucky. Late Friday night, I came down with the stomach flu. The next day, Isabella and Luci were down too. And on Monday of last week, the hubs got it too. My flu lasted the longest. I was out of commission, and basically too weak to even walk across the room until Tuesday. The hubs had to take two days off of work, because I literally could not even stand up without feeling as if I was going to pass out.

The hubs and I spent Valentine's Day taking turns sleeping in our bed, while the other laid on the couch playing kid shows off our DVR for the Triple Threat and praying not to die. For once, I was glad that 80% of the space is taken up by the likes of Sesame Street, Olivia, and Little Bear.

Relatives, terrified to catch the flu, dropped off food on our porch, and then ran like the wind back to their cars, lest some disease-ridden air particles from the inside of our house seep under the door and into their nostrils. I can't say I blamed them. Our entire house was a festering mess of vomit-stained clothes, dirty dishes, and toys that had not been cleaned up in days.

Mamacita started her visit early, and thankfully came into town last Wednesday (instead of Sunday) to help me once the hubs went back to work. I was better, but still really weak, and there was no way I could have handled the kids in my condition.

We are all better now, thankfully, but I never, ever, want to repeat those five days again.

Anyway...

I thought the comments on my last post were really interesting, and I glad so many of you decided to take the time to leave one, especially you long-time lurkers (hi, Kendra! I have always wondered about those visits from Vanuatu!). And I am always glad when I hear about someone finding my blog and completely identifying with what I write here. It makes me feel like this blog might actually help someone, instead of just serving as my misery-laden sounding board, so I'm glad you found your way here, Suzanne.

The bottom line is this: All mothers are just trying to do the best job they possibly can. Some of us are better at it than others and some of us find it comes much more naturally to them than it does to others. I've said it here before and I'll say it again, a lot of times, motherhood for me is akin to being a customer service rep at a high-volume call center where the people on the other line have a continual stream of demands and complaints that never, ever stop no matter what you do, say, or promise them.

Motherhood is Hard (with a capital H) for me. Juggling a career, a social life that barely exists, a marriage, and a house that's perpetually filthy along with motherhood and attempting to keep my sanity is always going to be a challenge. And when I know through reading your blogs or talking to you on the phone or emailing you that it's hard for you too, (maybe not as difficult as it is for me, but hard all the same), then I know that this is a struggle we all (well, apparently not all of us) share, it makes the burden not as heavy.

Please don't be afraid to share these feelings if you have them, and I know most of you do to varying degrees. It doesn't make you a bad mother.

It makes you a human one.

A Mother's Day

2011-02-09T20:50:00.004-05:00

A few months ago, during one of my mom's visits, she handed me four handwritten tablet-size pieces of paper.

On December 14th, 1977, when my mom was 27 years old, she took the time to write out, minute by minute, a day in her life as a young mother. I was 20.5 months old. My younger sister was 7.5 weeks old.

The day sounds very familiar. She was up during the night with my sister several times (my mom often wrote, "Karrie screaming in crib. Karrie throwing up. Karrie being very fussy"-my mom has always said that my sister spent a great deal of her early years crying), I was up for the day at 6:30am, and from that point on, other than a brief 15-minute rest time from 3:15-3:30pm, when my sister and I were still sleeping, my mom was constantly tending to the needs of an infant and a toddler.

At 9:30am, my mom writes "still burping Karrie (fussy and spitting up). Kristi reading books, playing dolls, watching Sesame Street-living room floor littered with 10 dolls, Cookie Monster, books, and toys all over the floor-Mommy can't stand looking at the mess!"

From 10-10:20am, she washes my sister's clothes, washes her hair (she never has time to dry it), and cleans the bathroom.

At 12:10pm, she writes, "Mommy nursing Karrie and feeding Kristi mini sandwiches, cutting cheese, and reading a story, all at the same time."

At 12:25pm: "Change Karrie's diaper while Kristi gets into everything possible in Mommy's room-many tears and spankings. Mommy feels frustrated because Kristi just wants a little attention too."

At 12:45: "Mommy getting tired of two whining kids both needing attention and love. Mommy getting frazzled!"

At 2:50pm: "Make a cup of coffee-don't know whether to collapse or go downstairs and get clothes out of dryer."

At 9:35pm: "Mommy polishing Kristi's shoes." (WTF?)

At 9:45pm: "Mommy collapses in bed to wait for Karrie to wake up."

It is a multi-page description of the life of most mothers of very young children.

I love having this snapshot of my mother's life in which she confessed that yeah, parenting small kids is frustrating, soul-sucking, and mentally and physically exhausting sometimes, because to talk to her now, her early years of motherhood were filled with nothing but puppies, rainbows, and galloping unicorns.

Interestingly, this is something I hear on a regular basis from acquaintances and a few friends. A girl I went to high school with repeatedly posts joyous updates (and only joyous updates) about her family on Facebook. Granted, this girl is one of those perpetually upbeat, sweet, kind, and glass half-full kind of people (obviously, we have nothing in common), so I can cut her a bit of slack, but Dear God, doesn't ANYTHING ever go wrong in her life? If so, I want to read about it, if for no other reason than to make me feel, for just a moment, that my life sucks less than hers.

I've long believed that mothers who paint a perpetually rosy picture of motherhood, who never complain, who stress that waking up 12 times in the middle of the night with a screeching, colicky newborn isn't robbing them of their will to live, who are able to somehow escape from their child's terrible twos unscathed, who say they don't miss their former, pre-child life even a little bit, are both terrible liars and doing new mothers a grave injustice.

I entered into motherhood with a very unrealistic idea of what it would be like. Granted, I had spent the two years prior to Isabella's birth bargaining with God that if he would just give me a baby, I would gladly devote my entire existence to the raising of this child.

Just give me a baby!

Once I got that baby (and two others), motherhood turned out to be a lot different than the pasture of grazing ponies I once imagined it to be. I wanted for myself more than motherhood could give me. I wanted to work. I wanted to run. I wanted to see my friends and read books and stay current on issues of importance to me.

I love my kids, but raising them while attempting to keep some semblance of myself intact is by far the hardest thing I've ever done. And I've worked my damnedest to be honest about how difficult it is for me. I am a downer at times. I know this, and I also know that this blog sometimes reads like a desperate cry for pharmaceutical intervention.

But I can't think of living my life pretending like it's something other than it is. And I love reading your blogs when you tell it like it really is too.

A lot of times, life with young children is awesome and funny and adorable, and posts that celebrate this are great to read.

But sometimes, like the 27-year-old version of my mother wrote one December in 1977, "Mommy needs a pair of roller skates and 8 hours sleep to keep up with these 2 little "angels?"...and even thought they are adorable, they have a lot of miserable moments."

Reading about your misery makes me feel less like I'm alone on Bad Mommy Island somewhere in the South Pacific.

My favorite posts of yours are those where you tell it like it really is.

Isabella at 4 Years, 5 Months

2011-02-03T23:15:00.000-05:00

It's been a pretty good month in Isabella Land.

She is loving her Saturday morning Clay Class at the art gallery, and so far, she's made a bird's nest, a fish, and a monster. Last week, the class glazed.

Saturday mornings are hectic, but so far, she's doing well with the packed schedule. Clay class ends at 10:45 and her tennis lessons begin at 11:30am. Her coach says she's become a "class leader," and always asks to do specific drills. I think we'll keep her in lessons until she decides she doesn't want to continue, if that point ever comes. Tennis is an interesting sport, and one I know very little about, so it's been fun learning about it through Isabella.

Out of the blue, she's begun searching for words that rhyme: At least once or twice a day, she'll say, "Hey, "cat" and "sat" rhyme, don't they?" as if she's made this great discovery. I bought her these books for Christmas, and the hubs and are working on them at night with her. I have to say I was skeptical of them at first, but she's actually been able to read the first few books all on her own. The stories are hardly interesting, but I suppose that's not the point with early-reading books.

Art projects are still her thing, and I've just given up cleaning off our dining room table every night. It is overflowing with her creations, markers, crayons, glue, and supplies. We have no place else to put them and have them accessible to her, yet out of the reach of L and N.

Of course, sometimes they're drawing right along side her.

Interestingly, at her preschool conference, her teacher mentioned that she has trouble cutting complex shapes with a scissors. Given all the time she spends on craft projects, this was a surprise. Apparently, she keeps popping her thumb off the handle. Isabella is left-handed, so I'm not sure if that has anything to do with it.

However, that was the only issue brought up in her conference. Her teacher says she loves school, loves to learn, has many friends, and is developmentally on-target or beyond where she's expected to be in all other skill areas.

We had her Kindergarten Orientation (Kindergarten!) last week. We toured the school and the Kindergarten classrooms, which were huge, and so cool (smart boards, reading areas with window seats, Plan Toys dollhouses, and enough art supplies to make her head spin). Registration is in March, at which point I will have to write a letter asking for morning Kindergarten (it's only a half-day program, unfortunately) because the twins will be in preschool 3 mornings a week (cue the choir), and I need that time to work. Apparently, everyone in my district wants morning Kindergarten, and those who request it need to submit their reasons in writing.

Isabella has been very excited lately because Chubbie (our oldest cat and mother of Louie and Claudia) has been coming into her room and sleeping on her bed.

She's asked me to leave a food bowl and a water bowl in her room in case Chubbie needs refreshments while visiting.

(Thank you to those of you who have emailed me asking about Louie. He continues to do as well as can be expected. He is eating and drinking and acting normally. He still cuddles with Chubbie every night in my office on the ottoman in front of the big chair where I work. But the mass on his shoulder is growing. What that means internally, I don't know.)

I read in one of the silly parenting magazines that I still subscribe to despite the ridiculousness of their articles and the utter laughability of their "healthy snacks" or "healthy dinner" articles placed on opposite pages to ads for Pop-Tarts that kids don't begin to feel empathy until around age 6. That until that age, kids are 100% focused on their own needs and desires, and basically don't give a rat's arse about anyone else.

But what I've realized lately is that I have a really empathetic kid. When Isabella sees me melting over the twins' often abhorrent behavior (and shamefully, she does a lot), she will say things like, "Mommy, let's go in your office and read a book" or she'll try and distract L and N so they'll stop screaming. I've been sick this week, and she's brought me a blanket, unprompted, while I was lying on the couch. When I say I'm tired, she'll say, "Mommy, someday you can stay in bed ALL DAY, and I'll bring you breakfast in bed, and you won't have to do anything."

Sometimes it is the Isabella show. Sometimes she's just as loony as her brother and sister, and sometimes her behavior is just as bad.

But most of the time, this kid thinks about others' feelings and needs a lot.

And this makes me feel like one lucky mom indeed.

Current Likes: Snuggling with the cats, eating frozen-as in, not yet cooked-peas

Current Dislikes: Being rushed

***********************************************************************

I was recently profiled by a new blog in my city. Check out my Q&A here.

About a Quilt

2011-01-25T14:59:00.002-05:00

When you have a daughter whose favorite color is red (as opposed to the ubiquitous pink and purple most other little girls love), it is challenging to find not only clothes, but also bed linens, rugs, and other decorating accessories that meet her color preferences.

I have been searching for a quilt for Isabella since she transitioned from her toddler bed to her full bed last year. Her room is red and white. Quilts with red in them that look appropriate for a little girl's room, as opposed to an adult's room, are pretty much non-existent.

To this point, she's had a small (as in, lap blanket small) purple and white quilt on her bed. It didn't go with her room, but she was attached to it, so it stayed.

And then I met up with Allison, an old friend and former co-worker, at another friend's daughter's birthday party. Allison had made the birthday girl a gorgeous quilt. I was instantly in love, and an idea was born.

Last Friday, Isabella received her new quilt

Allison found the fabric collections, and I chose the ones I liked. There are dogs and birds and polka dots and strawberries, all favorites of Isabella's.

And when you turn it over, this is what you'll see:

I think she likes it.

I love it too. It's made incredibly well, and it's something she'll be able to use for years. Thank you, Allison!

Allison has her own Etsy shop, and she makes some truly beautiful things. Check it out!

Luci and Nicholas at 27 Months

2011-01-18T19:43:00.001-05:00

It's been a month of increased violence and unrest in Casa de Crazy.

The twins are turning on eachother.

Every 30 seconds, one or both of them is screaming (which is nothing new, of course). What is new is the cause. When just a few months ago, the screaming and crying often had no discernable source, that source is now clearly identified.

(Please ignore my disgusting and stained carpet. Once the twins get a little older, some new modern rugs-dark ones-are in my future.)

They're turned highly competitive and combative. We have a house overflowing with toys and yet they will fight over one broken, wrapper-peeled crayon. They are biting and tackling eachother, and the least wounded will run screeching to me to tattle on the other ("Luci bite me!" "Nickey push Luci!"). And what I give one of them (from sippy cup to toothbrush to book in the car), I need to give the other, or I will immediately hear about it.

Ah, life with 2 two-year-olds. It doesn't get much better.

Of course, it's not a complete house of horrors.

For Christmas, I finally got the boy (and his sisters) some actual dress-up clothes.

Of course, every chance he gets, he's still taking off his shoes and putting on mine or Isabella's.

Nicholas is also turning into a comedian. He loves saying, "You're a crab!" and then waiting for the inevitable faux-horrified reaction. I think he means an actual crab, since he plays with a crab squirter toy in the bathtub all the time, but of course few are privy to that detail, and as a result they think my son is calling them ornery.

Much like Isabella was at this age, he is super-verbal and often pulls out words I had no idea he knew. One day after picking up Isabella from preschool, we stopped by a friend's house to pick up her quesadilla maker, which we were borrowing to make dinner that night. Later, the hubs asked Nicholas where he had gone that day, and he said, "We went to Jenny's to get quesadilla maker."

Okay, then.

When I'm rocking him before bed each evening, he is still asking me about the next night's meal: "What having for dinner tomorrow?"After I answer, he'll say, "Ohh...I like chicken (or turkey, or peas, or whatever). My favorite!" When sitting in his high chair, I'll place his tray in front of him, and he'll say, "This is delicious!"

Luci is what I would call a "scorch." I'm not sure if this is an Italian slang term, but I grew up knowing this word to mean one who likes to instigate fights and purposefully incite negative reactions from people.

While they are both majorly clued in to the other's buttons and know precisely how to piss off the other, Luci has this process down to a science. Nicholas will spend 10 minutes carefully building a tall block tower. Luci will approach the tower slowly and carefully, look at him, flash a maniacal grin, knock it over, and then stand there watching him scream and cry with a smile on her face.

She is very physically aggressive and has been spending a lot of minutes in time out lately for throwing toys, and for launching herself off an end table and onto the couch beside it.

The gap between her language and Nicholas' is starting to tighten. She is still not as verbal as he is, but her words are coming faster now. One of her favorite things to do is lead the "Patience Brigade."

Getting out of the house when I have anywhere time-sensitive to go (gym, preschool, etc.) with these three is utter insanity. Luci and Nicholas just recently stopped fleeing me and then lying on the floor playing dead as I wrestle their coats and hats onto their bodies. So, the hubs developed the "patience" game, where they are supposed to sit quietly by the door with their hands folded, waiting to be called to leave.

Luci loves being the dictator and yelling: "Nickey! Patience!" and then demonstrating the act.

Hey-I need a second in command, and I'm more than happy to have her fill the role.

Luci

Current Likes: The limelight
Current Dislikes: Going down for nap or bedtime without a fight, having siblings

Nicholas

Current Likes: Shoes and show tunes (Hmmm...)
Current Dislikes: Inertia

Isabella at 4 Years, 4 Months

2011-01-06T19:34:00.003-05:00

Thank you, thank you, thank you for your kindness and support on my last post. I am doing better. Not great, but better. Louie is himself. He is eating and drinking and acting normally. He is scarfing up the stinky Bonito Flakes my sister sent him. And while I know that this will not last, I am glad he is good now. As a friend said, going through the motions of life has made dealing with this situation a bit easier.

In this month that I could not wish away fast enough, Isabella has remained one of the few sources of happiness. She is not perfect by a long stretch. She is prone to epic whining fits and a very strong sense of self-righteousness. She will make a good lawyer one day, because the kid seems to enjoy arguing.

But she has been sweet and kind and comforting to me. And she's shown Louie a lot of gentle love and affection, which never ceases to make me tear up while watching.

She ran her second kids' race, the "Candy Cane Run" to my Jingle Bell 5K. It was foolishly scheduled 10 minutes after the 5K began, so I didn't get to see her run, but I heard she had a great time.

The arts-and-crafts-projects obsession continues. This was the Christmas of the art supplies, so she was overjoyed when opening this box o' crafty bits from Santa.

Appearing tops on her list for Santa was bowtie macaroni. Not to eat, of course, but to use in art projects. So, Santa hooked her up with those too.

I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that my kid is really into art. I mean, a lot. Every object she finds has endless possibilities for creative use in her little mind. Given a glue stick, some paint, markers, papers, and found objects, she could entertain herself for hours.

I am not artsy. That gene skipped over me (my grandfather, mother, and younger sister are all artists), so having a child who is so involved with something with which I have no expertise is difficult.

So all I can do right now is provide her with the space and the supplies and let her do her thing, which she does willingly. It's really awesome to watch her, actually.

My mom graciously bought her an awesome "Clay Play" art class at our local art gallery, and that starts in a week. She is so excited. Saturdays will be busy for her for awhile. She'll have her clay class, a 45-minute break, and then tennis lessons. All of a sudden, I'm that parent with the overscheduled kid. But as long as she enjoys her lessons and doesn't resist going to them, I figure it's okay.

Much like me, Isabella is a child who never wants to stay home. Every day she asks me what we're doing both in the morning before preschool and in the afternoon once I've picked her up. She wants scheduled events, and if I don't have anything on the itinerary, she gets upset. This? Is exhausting. Because while I would love to take her to the library after school or to the museum or to a playground or outside to play, doing so with a 1 adult to 3 young children ratio is not easy.

She's become slightly physically aggressive with Luci and Nicholas. She will push them, grab toys out of their hands, or climb on top of them when they're bugging her. When they start to cry, she immediately launches into maternal mode, hugging them and saying, "It's okay honey. You're fine. You're fine." as if she weren't the cause of their misery.

It's bizarre.

There is a Parent Orientation for Kindergarten meeting scheduled on my calendar for the end of the month. Isabella is headed to Kindergarten in 9 short months. And rather than look at this new step for her with longing for her baby days, I cannot wait (and not for the reasons you might think).

I know she is going to love it.

Current Likes: Raw baby carrots for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, taking pictures with her new camera

Current Dislikes: Staying home, L&N messing with her stuff

Inoperable

2011-01-02T15:24:00.013-05:00

Louie did not have surgery on Friday.

I dropped him off on Friday morning around 7am. At noon, his surgeon called with the results of the MRI.

The cancer that his rabies vaccine gave him is everywhere. It's not only in the mass on his shoulder, it wraps around the scapula bone of his right shoulder. It reaches over to his left scapula. It's around one of his vertebrae.

The surgeon said she could amputate his front right leg, and he would learn to walk with a limp on his left front leg, but because the cancer spreads over to that leg, it would mean a prolonged hospitalization and he would be in a lot of pain. And this would not address the fact that the cancer has spread to his vertebrae, that it's highly aggressive, and that it more than likely would return. Radiation (if I had even wanted to do that) would not have been a viable option, because radiologists do not like to radiate near the lungs.

She would not be able to achieve good margins for surgery. It is the worst case scenario.

Through my tears, I asked what she would do if Louie was hers. She said she would take him home and keep him comfortable until he begins to suffer.

And so a few hours later, once he had recovered from the anesthesia, I picked him up.

He has weeks to a few months left. I plan to love him and cuddle him as much as he'll let me for every day he has left.

My heart is breaking. It has taken me two days to write this post because the news has shattered me. I haven't really been eating. I've been sleeping even less. I haven't run in days. There is nothing I can do to save him.

And now I have to think about how to properly explain what's going on to Isabella, who understands that Louie is sick and who is wondering why mommy is crying all the time. I tried explaining it to her yesterday, and both of us ended up in tears. She wanted to know where Louie was going once I told her we wouldn't be able to see him anymore, and I had no answer for her.

I need to learn to go about life with Louie on my mind constantly. I need to learn to control my emotions. I need to figure out how to drive to preschool, change diapers, dress kids, and make lunch when all I feel like doing in crawling into bed and stroking his soft fur while he sleeps next to me.

And I have absolutely no idea how to do any of this.

I do know this. I will not allow Chubbie or Claudia, Louie's mom and his sister, to be vaccinated anymore. I am pro-vaccine for my kids and I was for my cats. However, I've done a lot of research. Vaccine-associated fibrosarcoma is a lot more common than the 1 in 10,000 cats that's reported. Big pharmaceutical companies are making millions of dollars pushing unnecessarily frequent vaccines. They are manufacturing vaccines that they know cause cancer. And pet owners are not being informed of the risks, which are very real. I've also learned that vaccinations should always be given in the leg, because if VAS occurs, the leg can be amputated. None of this information was given to me via my vet. It does not appear anywhere on the vaccinations' warning labels.

If you have a cat, please, please do some research before his/her next annual check-up. I would not wish what Louie is going through right now on anyone.

Thank you for your comments and your emails. Please continue to keep Louie in your thoughts and prayers.

I Won't Miss You

2010-12-31T00:00:00.000-05:00

Thank you so much for all of your thoughtful and supportive comments about Louie. To know that some of you have made difficult decisions in the past for your much-loved animal companions gives me a lot of comfort. To know that you are thinking of me and Louie today helps me even more. I am dropping him off at 7am. He'll have the MRI, and then his surgeon will call me to let me know, based on the size and position of the mass, whether going forward with the surgery is advisable.

Needless to say, today is going to be rough.

I am not sorry to see 2010 end.

This year was better than 2009 in a lot of ways. I am no longer parenting three under 3 (and a few months). This is not to say that parenting twin toddlers and a precocious preschooler is any easier, but I now have three kids that sleep through the night.

This is huge.

In addition to emerging from the twinsanity of sleepless nights, 2010 was the year that I finally started running competitively after 7 years of running purely for fun. I ran six races: four 5Ks and two 10Ks, and ended up grabbing second place in my age division in one 5K and 3rd place in my age division in one 10K. I ran a 23:21 5K, which isn't super-fast, but it's a time I'm really proud of.

Of course, I never did run the September half-marathon I trained for all spring and summer. A double calf-strain sustained in August trashed the months of hard work I put in to getting ready. But with some perspective, I'm now able to see the positive in my training. I ran 10 miles twice. I ran 11.5 miles, my last long run before getting injured. One year ago, I never thought it would be possible for me to run that long. And I did it, and at an 8:36 pace. I know I would have run a 1:50 half-marathon.

On May 1st, I hope to prove that I can.

But 2010 has been tough. I'm now almost 4.5 years into this parenting while working somewhere between part-time, and three-quarters-time, sans childcare, and I still cannot figure it out. I am stressed a lot. I work too late at night, which leaves me cranky and severely lacking in patience the next day. I love my kids but most days, I would give anything for someone to take them out of my house for a few hours every day to give me some peace. I believe I would be a much better mother if I worked a traditional FT job. I am not cut out to be with them all day, every day.

The work-life balance remains elusive. But in September, when Luci and Nicholas head to preschool three mornings a week thankyouJesus, and hopefully, Isabella is able to begin morning Kindergarten (in my district, you can request AM or PM Kindergarten, but are not guaranteed your choice) I hope some semblance of balance will emerge.

Thank you for your support, your kindness, and your readership this year. Your comments bolster me in ways you can't even imagine. It hasn't been a sunshine, rainbows, and puppies kind of year here, but perhaps in 2011, a little light might seep in under the door.

Happy New Year, everyone.

Louie

2010-12-28T20:37:00.001-05:00

On Thanksgiving morning, I came downstairs early before anyone else was up, as I normally do. I went into my office and on the ottoman that sits in front of the big chair on which I do most of my work, one of my 12-year-old cats, Louie, was snuggling with his mama, Chubbie. This is where I usually find the pair in the morning.

Usually, Louie runs away as soon as I enter the room. He is, to put it mildly, a very shy and anxious kitty and always has been. That day, though, he didn't, so I seized the opportunity to pet him.

And that's when I discovered the lump on his collarbone area, just behind his neck.

Louie is a long-haired cat. His fur is very soft and dark gray. To look at him, you would not see the lump. But under my hand, it felt huge.
Our vet's office was closed for the holiday until Monday. The hubs and I made an appointment for Louie on Monday morning and saw our vet's partner that evening. Louie had not been in our vet's office for over seven years. He so loathed his visits that after a horrible episode during his yearly checkup in which he was literally screaming and jumping up the walls to try and escape, I vowed to never again put him through that. Our vet has made annual house calls for all my cats' yearly checkups from that point on.

The vet did not sugar-coat things for us. After an exam and an attempt to extract cells to look at under the microscope, she said she suspected vaccine-associated fibrosarcoma (VAS). The prognosis she gave us was not good. She referred us to a specialist, following bloodwork, which Louie's regular vet would come to our house to draw later in the week.

After we received the results of the bloodwork, which showed healthy liver function and nothing else out of the ordinary, Louie and I visited the surgeon at the veterinary specialist's office. She suspected VAS as well, but would not know for sure until Louie had a biopsy performed. I agreed to have it done that day, and left him with her while I sobbed my way out of the building. I picked him up later that night. They had shaved the fur around the mass.

It is about the size of a tennis ball. I must have missed it for months, and the guilt I feel for this is immeasurable.

The results came back in five days. It was as everyone suspected: vaccine-associated fibrosarcoma.

I immediately started Googling the disease. I joined a Yahoo support group for parents of cats with this awful cancer. The most awful thing about it is that as a responsible cat parent, I had my cats vaccinated every year. I did the right thing. And doing the right thing gave my cat this mass. This horrible, terminal disease. Either the act of the injection itself or the vaccine gave Louie cancer.

It is very aggressive. The surgeon recommended surgery, followed by radiation and possibly chemotherapy. With just surgery, the cancer returns in most cats within a year. With surgery plus radiation, the odds are a little better. With surgery plus radiation plus chemotherapy, the odds of a cure are the strongest.

As you might imagine, all of this comes with a gigantic price tag.

I have spent a part of every single day since that initial vet. visit in tears. We have had Louie, his sister Claudia, and their mama, Chubbie, since Louie and Claudia were 8-week-old kittens in the spring of 1998. The hubs and I had just moved into our first apartment together. My childhood cat had passed away at the age of 21 the summer before, and I wanted another one. A co-worker posted about finding a pregnant stray cat who was about to give birth. She took her to her own pets' vet office, where the cat subsequently had a litter of 5 kittens. This co-worker was going to keep the mama; the kittens needed homes.

A friend of mine and I went to check out the kitties. There were 3 that were not spoken for. She adopted one, and the other two were huddled together in the back of the cage, their paws around eachother. I couldn't bear to separate them, so of course, after a quick phone call to the hubs, who expected me to bring home 1 kitten, I ended up taking them both. And when the woman who found the pregnant mama cat decided not to adopt her several weeks later, I volunteered to take her too.

And our family of three cats, Annie (whom we have always called Chubbie, because, well, she is), Claudia, and Louie (a trio my sister named after the author and characters of Interview with a Vampire) have been with us ever since. That was over 12.5 years ago.

Louie and Chubbie are especially bonded. While our cats mainly stay away from the mayhem and insanity of the ground floor of our house during the day while the kids are up, preferring to sleep upstairs in our bedroom or downstairs in the basement, all three come up (or down) to spend time with me once the kids are in bed. Chubbie and Louie cuddle together on the ottoman in my office and keep me company while I work late into the night. They still give eachother baths, their paws wrapped around eachother.

They are a bonded family unit who have never been separated a single night, other than Claudia's spaying procedure when she spent one overnight at the vet's office as a kitten. They are my first babies. I have had them for over a third of my life.

So, for these reasons, I am spending money I do not have to try and save Louie's life. He's having an MRI followed by surgery on Friday, New Year's Eve. It is not a cure. I am not putting him through the recommended radiation and chemo for a number of reasons. The closest place for this treatment is two hours away, at Cornell. He would need three weeks of 4x a week radiation. I would have to drive him there on a Monday, leave him for a week, pick him up on Friday, and repeat this process two more times.

This is too much for a cat who has left our house twice in the last seven years, both of which were vet trips in the last 4 weeks. He is a highly stressed, anxious, cripplingly shy kitty on his best day.

This cancer is so aggressive that it returns in most cats who have the surgery with no radiation.

But I cannot do nothing. I can't take this terminal diagnosis and not do something. I want to give him a chance to beat cancer.

And I say "I" and not "we" because the hubs does not agree with my decision. He does not want Louie to have this very expensive surgery because of the low success rate. He has always thought of the cats as my cats, and not our cats. The dissent has not been good for us.

Right now, Louie is the same cat he has always been. He's eating and drinking, playing and snuggling. You would never know how sick he is.

Here he is enjoying his Christmas catnip toys with Claudia.

But if I do nothing, he won't stay like this for long. And I cannot look at him, this sweet cat who has trusted me to take care of him and keep him safe for 12 years, without knowing that I tried to help him.

It's not an option.

I realize how ludicrous this might sound to people without pets, and even to some with them. To spend a large amount of money on surgery for a cat, a surgery with a very low success rate, has probably left some of you thinking I am insane.

I get that.

But I don't surrender easily. I've fought many a medical battle in my life, and I've beaten the odds, when many doctors didn't think I would.

I want, no, I need, to give Louie the same chance.

If you're the praying type, the lighting candle type, the positive thoughts type, or the sending good vibes type, please think of Louie on Friday.

And thank you for slogging through this post, and all my misery-ridden posts of late. Someday, I hope to turn the corner.

The Motions

2010-12-24T09:00:00.002-05:00

It's been a rough month.

Today is not the day to elaborate, what with the Christmas Eve business and all. Next week, I'll come back here and share some of what's been going on.

But when you have kids and you're Christmas people, and it's The MOST WONDERFUL Time of the Year, there's not a whole lot of time for sitting around and moping. You make the month as special as you can muster up the energy for. You buy the tree, you visit Santa, you bake the cookies, decorate the house, read the holiday stories, watch the specials on television, and hope like hell that your kids don't notice that you can't wait until this hellacious month is over.

I've never liked December. It's the annual Holiday Spreadsheet of Debt. The non-stop shopping and spending. The fake cheer. The massive commercialism. The buying of gifts people neither want nor need. The annoying Facebook updates from friends who LOVE Christmas and like to tell everyone exactly how much they love it, and how storybook their lives are day in and day out for the entire month.

Honestly, as soon as the calendar flips to December, I am looking forward to January. At least it's okay to be cynical and moody in January.

At the beginning of the month, we bought a tree.

I started the annual Advent Calendar ritual, which was a great idea when there was only Isabella, but is now a pain in the keister with three kids. 25 mini "presents" each, for every single day from December 1st to the 31st. I've taken to filling their calendars' drawers with Cheerios each morning.

Hey, "austerity" isn't the Word of the Year for nothing.

Santa rode through our neighborhood on a fire truck, as he does every year. Nicholas and Isabella were happy to see him, sit on his lap, and receive a candy cane.

Luci? Not so much.

Isabella and I went to my MIL's company's "Lunch with Santa," where I witnessed her getting inked by an old lady in a Christmas sweater vest.

Fortunately, the results were professional.

We took our annual trip to a local garden store's Christmas! Spectacular! Trains were watched and ridden.

Another visit with Santa was attempted.

And then there was baking, frosting, and decorating of cookies and of gingerbread train (minus the baking).

Isabella decorated a little over two dozen cookies. What was over last year in about 20 minutes took her two hours this year. She quite literally decorated them, putting non-pareil "ornaments" on the tree cutouts, faces on the snowmen cutouts, etc. Oddly, she asked to eat none of them. It was all about the process for her.

Then it was on to the gingerbread train, on which she spent another hour, completely on her own, decorating the train.

The experience was marred only slightly the following evening, when for reasons still unknown to us, Isabella decided to stuff one of the leftover candy balls up her nose to "keep it safe." There it lodged, and there it remained until it dissolved somewhere in her nasal cavity.

Good times.

Aunt Karrie arrived on Tuesday night. More baking ensued.

And then there was bobsledding through the kitchen, of course.

I'm taking another break (although lately, it's like it's been one long break around here), but I will be back next week.

Until then, Merry Christmas and happy everything, awesomely loyal readers. You've made my year in more ways than one, and I'm happy to know every single one of you.

Luci and Nicholas at 26 Months

2010-12-23T21:41:00.002-05:00

When Isabella was exactly the age the twins are right now, Luci and Nicholas were born.

That's startling to me, because when I look at the two of them, I still see babies, which means that she was a baby, too, when they arrived.

And then I really question my sanity about having my children relatively close in age. What was I thinking? There are positives to close-in-age children. There are negatives to widely spaced kids. But if I had to do it again, I think I would have waited until Isabella was at least 2.5 before doing the FET. I really think my life would have been a hell of a lot easier.

Moving on!

Nicholas continues to be a funny, charming, and simultaneously maddening and "spirited" child. His vocabulary rivals Isabella at this age. He speaks in full and complex sentences ("Yay! Nickey took a nap! Santa is happy and mommy is happy!") -yes, he is taking about one nap a week now, which is better than the previous 30 days during which he did not nap once. I'm not sure what I'm going to do once Christmas is over, and I can't threaten him with an angry Santa anymore, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Every single morning, he asks to wear a red shirt. "Nickey wear a red shirt today?" and at least 20 times a day, he asks me, "Mommy, what we having for dinner?" And I'll tell him, "chicken" or "macaroni" and he'll say, "what else?" The boy loves to eat and loves to talk about food.

He is still prone to inexplicable crying fits. I find myself treading on eggshells a lot around him, desperately trying to keep him on an even keel and from flying into one of his rages, which last 20 minutes or longer. You would never suspect this behavior from him unless you spent as much time with him as I do. When the people in the gym daycare mention how awesome he is, how loveable and how sweet, I agree with them because he is. They are then shocked to hear that he has this other side of his personality.

I'm going to chalk it up to being two and hope it goes away really quickly.

He loves books and is always asking me to read to him ("Mommy, sit on couch and read Nickey Clifford book?"). When I rock him to sleep, he asks for his stories, which I've made up for his bedtime ritual ("Nickey in the Forest with Bunnies, mommy?" or "Puff, Puff, Puff, Puff" (loosely based on this book).

Nicholas loves to run up to me and spontaneously kiss my leg, and he loves to bring me things ("Mommy, get you coffee. Be right back!"). And when he's pleased about something, he'll literally shout, "Happeeeeeeeee!" at the top of his lungs.

Luci is very tuned into the potty business. She likes to follow Isabella into the bathroom, and as soon as she has a dirty diaper, she'll tell us to change her. She also has picked up on Isabella's potty talk lately. Awesome.

The phrase "Looks can be deceiving" was coined for her. She appears small, sweet, and completely angelic. But in reality, she is the dominant twin, and she knows exactly how to push Nicholas' buttons. If he says his standard line each morning, "Nickey wear red shirt today?" if Luci is feeling particularly hostile, she'll say, "NO red shirt today, Nickey!", which she knows will make him scream and cry. And he does.

Luci loves playing with dolls, and heavily covets the Baby Alive monstrosity that mamacita gave Isabella for Thanksgiving (yes, Thanksgiving). Isabella no longer takes it out of her room because she doesn't want Luci to "run down the batteries." Fortunately, Santa heard the pleas of the tiny terror and is bringing her one (who speaks Spanish!) for Christmas, and who incidentally does not require diaper changes because the "feeding" is simulated.

She is an awesome sleeper, often sleeping from 7pm until 8 or 8:30am. And when she wakes up, she just sits in the corner of her crib, holding her stuffed bunny, and waiting until I show up to get her, never uttering a peep. Her naps are generally good too. Mama loves a baby who sleeps.

Luci is not as verbal as Nicholas. I would say she is about 1-2 months behind him, although she's steadily improving. She loves to sing the Luci version of "Tomorrow" from the Annie soundtrack, "Tomorrow. Tomorrow! I wuv ya, tomorrow. Only a day A-WAY!" and she knows and sings lyrics to several Christmas carols as well.

The dynamics between the two of them right now are not good. There is a lot of fighting over things. There is a lot of physical contact. When they're side-by-side in the double stroller, they often pinch each other's faces or pull hair.

And yet, none of this occurs when we're outside the house. So, I make it a point to be at home with them as little as possible during the day. Going out with three of them is still challenging, but it's getting easier. I have taken them to the museum and library a few times recently on my own, and have realized that it's a whole lot easier than it was even a few months ago. I still have to mainline the coffee before heading out the door, and it's far from a breeze, but we're getting there.

Holiday Photo Shoots From Hell

2010-12-14T11:17:00.025-05:00

Every year, it's the same story.

I, having apparently blocked the memories from previous years, attempt to orchestrate group photo shots of the kids dressed in their holiday attire.

The results are never good, I turn into a screeching, manic harpie because ForTheLoveOfGod,WhyCan'tYouJustSmileSoWeCanGetThisOverWith???, and both the hubs and I are left wishing we had a bottle of vodka (each), and some home bar furniture to relax on and drink ourselves stupid.

Our Thanksgiving and holiday photo shoots this year stayed true to form.

The twins were in foul moods on Thanksgiving. Isabella has never liked having her photo taken and resists any and all attempts to take her picture with a level of complaint similar to those about to undergo a root canal. There is whining. There is crying. There is gnashing of teeth.

It is ridiculous.

Our Thanksgiving photos:

After so much success (ha), we broke out the pumpkin muffins I had made earlier in the day. Here, Nicholas decides that one was not enough for him, and storms off set like the diva he is.

And then we decided to just give the kid another damn muffin, because at that point, I was losing my mind.
"Put that mouth near my muffin and you'll receive a swift jab to the ribs, sis."

"Okay, fine. One bite."

I was able to snag two good pictures from 45 minutes of sheer hell.

We fared slightly better for our holiday card shoot. Either that or the heavy drinking I did beforehand has made me forget what it was really like.

And, the only decent shot of all three, which became our card this year.

I would imagine that for most other families, taking photos of your kids is not the horror-movie-esque scene it always is in my house. I imagine the whole process unfolding something like:

Mom or Dad: "Okay, Ben. Time to take the holiday card photo. Go stand by the tree and smile."

Ben: "Okay. Sure!" (Big, Gap-Ad-Worthy Smile Ensues)

Mom or Dad, two seconds later: "Great job, Ben. We're done!"

What do you do to get good holiday pictures of your kids?

Isabella at 4 Years, 3 Months

2010-12-09T23:10:00.003-05:00

Once again, I am late with this update.

My blog is turning into monthly updates on my kids and little else, but my current work schedule is sucking every last second out of my day.

BUT, in a few weeks, I will have a break, and then you can expect daily (no, hourly!) posts from me, full of the social commentary long-time readers are accustomed to reading here.

Okay, maybe I'll start with just a post a week and work my way up from there.

Sigh...

On to things in Isabella-Land.

The four-year-old with the big vocabulary is taking it down a few levels on the respectability scale lately. We have a lot of potty talk going on. She might be picking it up in school (certainly not at home, as our word choices are as lily white as the 17,000 feet of snow in my backyard right now). But seriously, the bodily function talk is annoying, especially coming from a little girl who has been highly verbal since the womb.

Speaking of bodily functions, mamacita bought her Baby Alive for Thanksgiving. She's feeding the doll "peas." Guess what comes out Baby Alive's other end?

Because exactly what I need right now is another behind to wipe.

It's been interesting to watch her inter-personal skills develop over the last few months. She knows what to say and how to say it to get people to do what she wants. She wanted a red hat on the Athritis Foundation table at a recent 5K I ran in (the hats were for for those with Arthritis only,although I'm not certain how one would prove that in order to procure a hat), and so she sidled up to the table with me at her side, and coquetishly asked for a hat, acting shy when she wasn't, using a slight baby-talk inflection in her voice.

The older ladies at the table wouldn't give up the goods, but they did hand her a candy cane for her efforts. Isabella, however, was more than a little annoyed that her "charm" didn't work.

Isabella has been a big help around the house lately. Her favorite thing to ask me is, "Mommy, what can I help you with?" because she knows she will get heaps of praise from me for asking it. She's not a fan of setting the table, but will help make salads and everything else to do with meal prep, wash down cupboards, and pick up our disaster of a house before bed each night.

She's always been a big fan of art projects, drawing, and painting, but in the last few months, it's really kicked into overdrive. Every bit of what I would call "trash" is now something she would like to save for an art project. We went to a friend's birthday party last month and ended up taking home her used plastic fork from cake, an extra paper plate, a bamboo skewer from the Edible Arrangements fruit basket, and an empty juice box, none of which she was willing to part with, and all of which she later affixed to an egg carton via a glue stick.

Here she is hard at work at 7am one morning, making boats out of paper bags.

I fully expect her to be dumpster-diving this time next year.

I want to foster this creativity as much as I possibly can, but her art supplies are literally all over the house. 99% of them have to be kept out of Luci and Nicholas' reach, and therefore there is no central table to organize it all.

Isabella continues to have a blast at preschool. She can now write her first and last name neatly and legibly. She's mastering letters not in her name as well.

I think she's really going to miss school during her two week break coming up in other week.

Current Likes: The music from "Annie," playing cats with Luci

Current Dislikes: Clementines and parental threats to text Santa regarding her naughty deeds

Luci and Nicholas at 25 Months

2010-11-26T13:03:00.002-05:00

Two at two has been interesting so far. In some ways, it's slightly easier. Luci and Nicholas understand a lot more than they did even a few months ago. There is a modicum of reasoning going on.

And in some ways, it's much more difficult for exactly the same reasons.

Nicholas is going through a rough(er) patch lately. He has not taken a nap in over two weeks, and spends "naptime" yelling in his crib:

"Mommy! Open door Nickey's room. Right Now! PLEASE!"

Over. And Over. And Over.

When I don't comply, he strips. Fortunately, thus far he has kept his diaper on, but when I finally relent and get him up, he has not a stitch of clothing on.

Working during "naptime" is pretty impossible when one-half of your at-home children (Isabella is at preschool Monday-Thursday in the afternoons) is non-compliant.

He is also extraordinarily cranky in the morning. If he comes downstairs and sees that his breakfast is not already made and ready for him to consume, he pitches an epic fit. He will not be consoled. And sometimes, even when it is ready, if it wasn't what he envisioned he might want to eat that morning, the fit occurs too. He usually spends the first 30 minutes of every morning screaming for no reason at all. And he will not be consoled.

That said, the kid loves to eat. He often says, "Mmmmm....I like it!" when we put his tray in front of him at each meal.

We have no problem getting him to eat most foods. He consumes his meals many times before the hubs and I are able to sit down. Luci takes easily 3x as long as he does, and is often left sitting at the table while everyone else is cleaning up, playing, etc. Nicholas hovers around her high chair hoping for dropped scraps.

If it isn't bolted down, screwed in, or way out of his reach (and sometimes, even when it is), Nicholas is trying to open it, break it, or grab it. I am exhausted not trying to keep up with him, but trying to stay at least 10 steps ahead of him. I have to constantly ask myself, "Okay, if I put this coffee cup here, can he reach it?" and "Oh, crap. Did I leave the bathroom door unlocked?" and "Why is it so quiet? Shit. Where are the crayons that were here a minute ago?"

"I'm just going to press all these buttons. You won't mind, will you?"

On the positive front, Nicholas can count to 20, sings the ABC song, and loves the soundtrack to "Annie." One of his favorites to belt from his crib during naptime is "Tomorrow":

"Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I wuv ya. Tomorrow! You're only a day away!"

He is also known to come up to me, look me in the eye, and say, "Hi, Mommy. How you doing?"

What is it about little boys? So destructive and so adorable, all at the same time?

Luci is totally in love with her big sister. She always wants to hold Isabella's hand in the car, and wants to do whatever she's doing most of the time.

Thankfully, she's still napping, but getting her to eat is a challenge. She still wears size 18 month clothing, and is a good two inches shorter than Nicholas.

Much like Isabella was at this age, Luci is very defiant. If I happen to be dressing her for the day, and she decides she'd rather have the hubs do it, she will kick and scream and cry to get her way.
"I'm sick. Wanna rumble?"

Luci loves dolls and dancing, can sing part of the ABC song, and all of the "Happy Birthday song," but does not share her brother's penchant for showtunes. She would like nothing more than to be carried around and snuggled all day long.

She also has an awesome sense of humor. Just recently, she's started making jokes. Her humor is pretty base and mostly of the bodily function variety, but it's very funny to hear this tiny two-year-old make a funny comment about her diaper contents, and then laugh hysterically about it.

Oh, these two. I love them to pieces. They are evolving into people, a little bit more every day. But they are so much work. And they are so completely crazy sometimes, which I know describes every two year old on the planet, but their mother is me. And most of the time, I feel so utterly and completely unequipped. If there was ever a mother less equipped to handle twins, I'd like to meet her.

But, to steal a line from this awesome project (check out the videos), I know that soon, it will get better.

It's Upon Us

2010-11-21T23:07:00.001-05:00

Hi. I'm Kristi. Remember when I used to post five days a week?

Yeah, me either.

Good grief. Has it really been two weeks since my last post?

Suffice it to say, I'm not able to write as much as I'd like to anymore.

I could regale you with tales of how I'm working past midnight many nights to keep up with a giant-sized workload comprised of both freelance writing and online teaching, but blah, blah, whine, whine. Boooring.

I could entertain you with a story about how mamacita has not spoken to me in over a week because I forgot to thank her for the Halloween cards and money she sent the kids. Apparently, she's been doing a little wall-stalking and thinks I spend too much time on Facebook (I don't), and that I could have spent that time calling or emailing her with my thanks. The fact that I really and truly did forget (what with the five hours of sleep I've been getting a night, and the second-shift I pull nightly) does not matter.

Mamacita's gotten herself blocked.

Thanksgiving is going to be FUN.

Or I could madden you with my annual pre-Christmas post of doom and gloom, in which I bemoan the impending holiday of which I do not like because it means the breaking out of the Annual Spreadsheet of Debt, the arrival of the Holiday Card Photo Shoot of the Photophobic, and all the things I must do and buy with a clock that gives me only 24 hours daily when I need at least 36.

But honestly, it's close to midnight, and I'm just too damn tired. Instead, I'll leave you with this.

It became apparent to me one day last week that my eldest really is my Mini Me. People tell me all the time how much she and I resemble eachother, but it seems Isabella not only has her mother's looks (poor thing), but also her dancing ability and coordination as well.

If you're still reading here, I salute you.

Life is Like a Box of Crayons: Halloween 2010

2010-11-08T20:00:00.001-05:00

Because I am nothing short of a genius, I came up with the idea to do the rounds with the relatives on the day before Halloween, rather than the night of.

We've always taken the kids to my grandma's house, my great aunt's house, my MIL's house and my FIL's house, so everyone could see them in their costumes and hand them organic dark chocolate made with low sugar and minimal processing (or, you know, this stuff)

We would make the trip to the other side of the city in late afternoon, catch dinner at one of their houses, and head back home for a little trick-or-treating before we all collapsed in exhaustion around 7:30pm, because even packing up one kid + costume + gear four separate times, in and out of the car, was exhausting. When one became three two year ago, it became a ludicrous situation.

The relative visits were still crazy this year (as any holiday with three kids under 4.5 is), but at least at the end of the night, we didn't have to take them trick-or-treating.

Getting ready to go-Nicholas desperately wanted to wear Isabella's red crayon costume, because he has decided that his favorite color is also red.

At Nana's
My MIL is awesome. Why, you ask? She asked the hubs what to get the kids for Halloween. The hubs told her to buy them their favorite snack, these CocoPop rice cakes made at our favorite grocery store. So, no sugar overload at Nana's.

Then, it was on to the hubs' dad's house. Luci wandered into the family room and disappeared for a few minutes. When I peeked around the corner to see what she was doing, I found her very quietly and carefully emptying the contents of my FIL's candy bowl into her pumpkin.

On Halloween, we were invited to a party in our old neighborhood. This was my contribution:

After the party, the kids trick-or-treated at a few houses in our old 'hood, including our former neighbors on both sides.

We headed home, about 6:30, and took all three crayons to trick-or-treat at our next door neighbor's house. After that, it was off to bed for Luci and Nicholas.

The weather turned awful (rain, sleet, and even some wet snow) once the twins were in bed, and Isabella said she only wanted to trick-or-treat at five houses, which is exactly what we did while the hubs stayed home with the sleeping little ones. Then, she was more than content to escape the rain and call it a night.

I was dreading the influx of candy into the house. In past years, Isabella had shown barely a fleeting interest in her candy. Last year, we went to a few houses, but she was more interested in handing out candy than trick-or-treating, and she never asked for any of it once Halloween was over. This year, though, at age 4, I figured she'd be a lot more clued in to her candy, and that the "out of sight, out of mind" tactic I've used for the past three years would not work.

I was thrilled when my friend wrote about ways to deal with the influx of sugar on Spoonfed, an awesome blog that offers great suggestions of ways to help kids make healthy food choices. Her post had some great ideas on ways to ditch the candy, although it turns out I didn't need them.

Our next door neighbor gave the kids a plate of mini cupcakes on Halloween night. That is the only treat she's asked for in the past week. She's eaten two of the cupcakes, and has entirely forgotten about her candy.

I hope your Halloween was a good one!

Oh, and if you haven't yet seen this post floating around, it is worth a read. The blogger writes about her five-year-old boy's unconventional (and female) choice of Halloween costume, and how she dealt with the backlash he received at school. This mom is incredible.

Isabella at 4 Years, 2 Months

2010-11-05T14:34:00.001-04:00

Isabella has had a great month.

On Halloween, she ran her first kids' race (after I ran a 5K, my first post-injury race). She loves to run with me, asking me to do sprints in the backyard, and begging to run to the end of our street with me every time I return from a run. So when I heard about the free kids' race in one of our local parks, I asked her if she was interested, and she readily agreed.

She ran a quarter-mile loop, half of it with me, and half with the hubs, who chased us down because I had the camera in my pocket and we wanted pictures of her running.

She received a participant ribbon after running through the same finish line arch I did an hour previous, and she was so proud of herself.

But nowhere near as proud of her as I was.

Oh, and guess who loves tennis again?

After the debacle of her tennis-lesson-day meltdowns twice last month, something clicked in her little mind, and now? She can't wait for her lessons. Her coach spent some time with her, encouraging and supporting her, and I think the extra attention really helped. Her last lesson of the 7-week session is Saturday, and last week she received her "report card."

Apparently, she can do a short rally with another player! She shows a good "ready" position! She has good coordination!

And after asking her if she would like to continue tennis, she gave me an enthusiastic "yes!", so I signed her up for the next 11-week session. Look out, Venus and Serena.

After watching her interact with Luci and Nicholas on a daily basis and with the younger siblings of her friends, it's readily apparent that Isabella loves playing the caretaker. She has an amazing degree of patience with L and N's antics, their constant scrounging into her stuff, and their demands for my attention.

She is 4, and of course, no perfect angel. She has some big-time emotional outbursts, especially when she has an idea of the way things should go, and I don't carry out her wishes as directed. She likes routine, order, and repetition, and if things deviate from this, she is not happy.

And her bond with her best stuffed animal Charlie continues to deepen. I swore he would not leave the house ever again after this spring's Land of the Lost Lovey episode, but a few weeks ago she asked to take him in the car with her to preschool, and I caved. And now, she almost never takes a car trip without him.

Guess who has not ordered Replacement Charlie, despite Stacey sending me the link to his look-a-like several months ago?

Must.Get.On.That.

Isabella has memorized every single line in Chicka Chicka Boom Boom and recites it to L and N before bed every night. She also "reads" them other stories too.

It's been a fun month, and we've been able to get out sans twins and do a few seasonal activities.

We went to our town's Halloween festivities at the library and town hall. The events included a kids' parade of costumes, and meetings with favorite book characters.

As you can see, Isabella went as a red crayon this year, an homage to her love of drawing and the color red. I'll have my Halloween recap post up sometime before Valentine's Day, I promise.

We've also gone to our town's farmers' market just about every Sunday morning since it opened in the spring. Isabella loved painting a pumpkin on the market's 350 Day.

She is heavily (and I mean, heavily) into art projects and anything with coloring, glue, tape, and scissors. It's awesome to see her work evolve as she gets older. She can draw actual objects and people now, and they look like what they're meant to represent. Every day, several times a day, she's drawing, cutting paper, gluing bits of paper to other pieces of paper, etc.

We have her art work taped up all over the house.

Current Likes: Dance "shows" in the living room to the world's most annoying Dora CD, helping me clean, naming all her stuffed animals except for Charlie "Ava."

Current Dislikes: Touching metal (zippers, raincoat buttons, car keys), sleeping past 7am

This Time, I Mean It

2010-11-03T21:09:00.005-04:00

Okay, so last month? When I said I was ordering something from CSN Stores for myself for a change?

It didn't happen.

This month, though, I will order and review something for me. I have no idea what, just yet, because even though they have over 200 online stores, offering everything from upholstered headboards to baby gear to school furniture, I can't seem to find their store for Really Cheap Live-in Nannies Who Enjoy the Company of Twin Hellcats and One Strong-Willed Four-Year-Old.

I am determined to find it, however. It's gotta be there.

I ended up taking your great advice from this post and ordering some dress-up clothes for the Triple Threat instead. Melissa and Doug has a new line of role-playing costumes, so I ordered the fire chief costume and the veterinarian costume. They are really well-made and huge hits with the kids.

Check out CSN Stores (super-fast shipping, much of it free, and awesome customer service), and if you see something you think I need to order, or if you find their Nanny Store, do let me know.

It Doesn't Get Much Scarier Than This

2010-10-29T00:00:00.001-04:00

Happy Halloween from my troupe of freaks to you and yours.

(And here's last year's. What a long, strange trip it's been.)

Twinsanity Turns Two

2010-10-25T20:02:00.004-04:00

Thank you to everyone who took the time to offer their support and suggestions on my last post. I'm glad I don't seem to hold a minority opinion on the matter of wanting my children treated equally.

I did take up the issue with my mother. It didn't go well. She essentially told me that she was numero uno growing up as the first of five children, I was the big cheese as the first grandchild in the family, and now Isabella is wearing the crown as the first great-grandchild. And oh yes, "there's nothing like the first." It is maddening and hurtful and insane, all at the same time, but it's not an issue that's going anywhere soon, so to preserve the dangling shreds of my mental health, I am dropping it until the next flagrant violation, which should occur in approximately two months.

On to the celebration for my second-class citizens!

The morning of their actual birthday, the twins awoke to surprises on their highchairs. Since the theme of their party was Elmo and Abby, I gave them little buckets, crayons, and books, all with the characters on them. Thank you, Target dollar bins!

Crayons are taboo for Luci and Nicholas unless they're under some serious supervision. This is a rare shot of them using the crayons on paper. They usually prefer other surfaces, such as floors, walls, and their own teeth.

And now it's time for the posed birthday photo part of the celebration, always an event guaranteed to send mama straight to the liquor store upon unsuccessful completion.

What's that? Two two-year-olds smiling simultaneously, and neither has their eyes closed or food on their face? I'm buying a lottery ticket instead of vodka this year!

Don't worry, they're still the same hellcats they were at age one. The lovely grins lasted approximately .00002 seconds, and then it was back to our regularly scheduled programming.

The twins received a train table for their birthday. All three kiddos love it, although Isabella, clearly forgetting that she has lived in the International House of Chaos and Mayhem for the past two years, had a slight meltdown as the pieces started hitting the floor: "They're going to mess it all up!!!"

After dinner, we celebrated with cupcakes. None of the kids liked them.

We had their party last Sunday. My sister painted this awesome sign for them, a gift she creates for the kids on their birthdays every year.

Yes, I stood them on top of a chair. It's not like they don't climb them (and the dining room table too) every chance they get. We like to live dangerously here.

A friend pointed out how similarly Luci and Isabella look in this photo, something I've never noticed until now. Isabella and Nicholas have always been the pair to look alike.

Here are the cakes, made by the same person who has made all the kids' cakes. We make a one-hour round trip to pick up these cakes (she lives in the middle of nowhere), but it is so worth it.

We sing to them individually, and this year we sang to Nicholas first.

And then it was present time.

Luci and Nicholas sat demurely on the couch, patiently awaiting Isabella, who delivered each gift without first helpfully ripping into it herself. Upon opening each gift, Luci and Nicholas graciously thanked the giver, scribbled off a "thank you" note, and moved on to carefully open the next present.

As if.

The aftermath.

They're two, people. Two.

Didn't they look like this, just five seconds ago?

I think we'll have one more year of utter insanity, and then things will begin to settle down? Right?

Right?

Two-Year-Old Checkup Stats

Luci

Weight: 23 pounds, 13.5 ounces (10th percentile)

Length: 31 1/4 inches (less than 5th percentile)

Nicholas

Weight: 27 pounds, 15 ounces (50th percentile)

Length: 33 inches (10th percentile)

In Excess

2010-10-19T13:46:00.008-04:00

We had the big birthday bash for Luci and Nicholas at my house on Sunday (pictures coming soon). We entertained over 30 people (95% of whom were family). The twins received more toys than they need and way more than I want cluttering my already toy-stuffed house, so I will be doing what I did with Isabella for the first three years of her life, and that is squirreling away unopened gifts, wrapping them in Christmas paper, and loading them on Santa's sleigh for re-delivery to the babies on December 24th.

No one has ever said I was a nice mama.

And speaking of the cranky mama, I have yet another family gripe. And it goes a little something like this.

Isabella is the rock star with my family. She was the first grandchild born on my side, and has received a bordering-on-the-ridiculous level of top billing since her arrival. It was Luci and Nicholas' birthday this weekend, but she also received a gift from almost every member of my family. The twins each received a book from my mom on Isabella's birthday. No one else brought them gifts.

It's difficult to manage the emotions of young children on their siblings' birthdays, and I'm grateful that my relatives thought of Isabella. However, my problems with this are three-fold.

1. I do not want to set a precedent that on the kids' individual specials days, everyone gets gifts. I know this may be a product of their ages, and hopefully will lessen as they get older, but I believe strongly in not creating a culture centered around receiving material things. They have so much already. They do not need any more toys.

2. The number and cost of the gifts given to Isabella this past weekend were ridiculous.

3. Luci and Nicholas have not received the same treatment on Isabella's birthdays.

Here's an example.

Isabella and I went to a card store on Friday. While I picked up thank-you notes, she hugged the oversized stuffed animals by the door. When it came time to leave, she started to cry because she wanted to take home the big yellow lab. It wasn't an "I want it now!" bratty kind of cry, but more of an "I don't want to leave him" kind of misery. She was genuinely sad about leaving this dog.

My mom was in town for the birthday party, and was tucking in Isabella that night. Apparently, Isabella told her about the dog. My mom mentioned the dog to me, and asked where we saw the dog and what the dog looked like. I explicitly told her not to buy the dog because A.) I didn't want Isabella to think that any time we go into a store, she can cry and whine and get what she wants and B.) The dog is huge, almost as tall as Isabella. I am not a fan of giant toys in a house already overflowing with kid stuff.

Guess who now has an almost three-foot-tall and two-foot-long dog in her bedroom? Mamacita, despite my telling her not to, bought Isabella the $45 stuffed animal.

She's been doing stuff like this for Isabella since her birth. The twins do not receive the same treatment, on their birthdays or any day.

Undermining Aunt (background here) bought everything but the kitchen sink for Isabella's birthday back in August-toys, books, money, etc. She must have spent over $100. The twins each received a $25 savings bond from her. She spent $25 total on them. And my issue is not with the dollar amount of the gift. It's with the disparate treatment given to my children.

It makes me sad to see this. I am glad Isabella is so loved, and I know Luci and Nicholas are too. But I love them and treat them equally and I want everyone else to as well.

I am at a loss as to how to deal with this. Do I live up to my Mean Mommy reputation and tell my family to stop spoiling one of my kids and to treat them all equally? Or do I just let this occur, and hope that once everyone is a little older, the ridiculous (and disparate) gift-buying will stop?

Happy 2nd Birthday, Luci and Nicholas

2010-10-15T14:02:00.004-04:00

Luci and Nicholas,

Today you are two.

At 3:09pm and 3:10pm on October 15th, 2008, first you, Luci, and then you, Nicholas, made your way into the world. From those moments on, nothing about our lives has been ordinary.

This past year has been easier in some ways. Both of you are sleeping through the night. You can tell us what you want (most of the time) instead of crying without words. You can walk instead of being carried (although I think both of you would prefer being carried 24/7), and you're able to play with Isabella for short periods of time, which is so much fun to watch and a day I thought would never come.

You are both high-energy, curious, and not concerned in the slightest for your own personal safety. You streak through the house causing chaos, upending chairs, dumping over toys, and climbing onto everything. You were Thing 1 and Thing 2 last year for Halloween, and at the time, I thought dressing you as the "Things" and your big sister as "The Cat in the Hat" was a cute idea. I had no idea the costumes would become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

While you share a penchant for trouble, top-tier lung capacity, and a love of Italian food, you are also very different.

Luci, you are my tiny firecracker. Small in stature, with a huge presence, you are fiesty, bossy, tough, and often the instigator in fights with your brother. You whack him, and then smile at me and laugh while he cries. And yet you are so cuddly and love being held and hugged for long periods of time. When I rock you toward sleep for your nap and at night, your eyes are closed, and yet you always lift your head to give my cheek a sleepy kiss before settling down. You tell your Daddy or me to "Sing!" as we're rocking with you, because Daddy has long soothed you toward dreamland with your special song that he picked for you before you were born: "My Girl."

You are Daddy's little girl, for sure, in a way that your older sister is not. While your brother prefers me, you prefer him, and that makes both of you happy. You love your great-great aunt too, and she dotes on you in a very special way. There is no shortage of people who love you in our family.

Eating is not your favorite activity (how is that possible in our family?), but you do love your Cheerios, yogurt, and strawberries. You love pointing out new or unusual things and sharing them with me ("Look, Mommy! Look!") and you are a big helper around the house, picking up toys, bringing me things I need, volunteering ("I get it!") to pitch in when we need you. You are the "Goose" (what Nicholas calls you) to your brother's "Dude" (what you call him), and while your bond is still on the thin side, given that the two of you are at war a lot of the time, I watch you growing closer to him by the day, and it's so much fun to watch.

Nicholas, you are my strong-willed, "spirited," destruction-prone Mama's Boy. I didn't know the degree to which girls and boys were different until you arrived. You are into everything, and if it isn't locked down, placed out of reach, or super-glued shut, you will break it, try to break it, or in some other way make it unusable. It's hard to stay 15 steps ahead of you at all times, which is what I have to do in order to ensure that our house is left standing.

You have a vocabulary that's similar to your older sister's when she was your age. You talk in complete sentences of four-to-five words ("Nicky scared of choo-choo train" being one of my favorites) and let's just say we have no problems getting you to eat most anything. In fact, you greet me each morning and after each nap with "Breakfast Time!" or "Snack Time!" and a huge smile on your face.

Binkies are your bedtime buddies, and I am not looking forward to the day (which is coming soon), when we are going to strip you of your four (yes, four) binkies you sleep with. It is my fault you love them so, since we eagerly handed them over to you when you were a tiny baby to quiet your sound-barrier-breaking screams in the middle of the night.

You are incredibly attached to me, and you always tell me "Mommy rock Nicky" before nap and bedtime. On the rare occasion I'm not around at bedtime, it does not go well for you.

You can count to 20, and can sing the Alphabet Song. You love to sing and you ask for specific songs "Honey, Honey" from the Mamma Mia soundtrack and your favorite kids' music when we're in the car. You've just started giving me huge, suprise kisses on both of my cheeks, like an old Frenchman, and I couldn't possibly love that more.

Happy birthday, babies. Thank you for sticking by your mama this past year and not revolting (too much) when she just wants to bury her head in the sand and emerge when you're 10. Fortunately, you're growing up in a family that values humor almost above all else, so I hope when you're grown, you will look back and see the hilarity of our lives when you were young, instead of the chaos.

And I hope you see the love that's here too.

Boys and Toys

2010-10-13T14:03:00.001-04:00

Nicholas loves playing dress-up.

In addition to his penchant for the library's Fiddler on the Roof-esque costume of his own making, he enjoys wearing aprons, hats, my shoes and sneakers, and just about anything else he can find around the house.

He also loves wearing his sister's pink Elmo jacket, which was a gift someone originally gave to Isabella when she was a baby.

Every time we go to the closet to put on jackets, he asks for it by name. He has his own jacket, of course, and the Elmo jacket isn't even Luci's primary fall jacket, so it's not as if he sees her wearing it all the time and is blinded by a jealousy. He just loves it. So, I let him wear it.

The hubs does not like it.

And yet the hubs is not that guy.

Despite being a guys' guy and a sports fanatic currently participating in no fewer than 12 fantasy football leagues, he has never coveted a boy. He didn't put a ball in Nicholas' hands the second we brought him home from the NICU. He doesn't play soccer or baseball with him (instead, he plays with Isabella who loves to swing a bat), and doesn't insist that his son play with only trucks and cars. He's progressive, open-minded, and (mainly) a liberal, like me.

And yet the idea of his son in a pink jacket bugs him. I think boys in pink probably bug more people than just the hubs, too.

Here's Luci wearing what is obviously a boy's jacket. I doubt that this would bug anyone.

But why do boys dressed like girls (or boys playing with "girl" toys) bother people?

It is, of course, the leering spector of "gayness": that to allow a little boy to wear pink, girly jackets, play with dolls, or carry around a Dora purse (all of which Nicholas does) will "turn" him gay, which it obviously will not, given that sexual orientation is not learned.

It's also the antiquated notion that boys should be tough and strong and masculine. Pink ruffles are not masculine.

Young kids don't see gender as rigidly fixed as adults do. And frankly, I don't want my children to believe in the narrow ideas of gender identity-that only girls wear pink, that only boys can be police officers. I have no doubts this will inevitably happen to a certain degree once they hit kindergarten, but until they do, I want to create a gender neutral play environment for them.

So if Nicholas wants to try on Isabella's old Christmas dress, I'm going to let him.

Nicholas is growing up with two sisters, and yet our house is not an explosion of pink and princess. Since Isabella was born, I've made it a point to buy mostly gender-neutral toys. Yes, we have dolls, doll strollers, and doll houses (and of course boys can and should play with them, and Nicholas does), but we also have a tool bench. We have cars and a car garage, complete with an elevator and ramp. We have trains and tracks, a baseball and bat, and a set of golf clubs. These were all originally Isabella's toys. All three kids play with them now.

I loathe the idea of "boys toys" and "girls toys." I didn't run out and buy trucks and sporting equipment when my son was born anymore than I ran out to buy Disney princess dresses when Isabella and Luci arrived. Luci and Nicholas' birthday gift from us is a train table, which some might see as a stereotypical "boy toy." And yet both twins love playing with Isabella's train set, and so I knew this would be a perfect gift for them.

Research supports gender-neutral play environments as being the most developmentally beneficial for kids. It makes me sad to enter houses where the kids are all one gender and see only that gender's traditional toys. Yes, some girls naturally gravitate toward the frilly, girly princess-y stuff and some boys to the dinosaurs and trucks, but I believe that this is the exception rather than the rule. Many people buy their kids (or their nieces/nephews/grandkids) playthings that the big box toy stores tell you are "for girls" or "for boys."

"She's a two-year-old girl, so of course she'll love the Disney princesses!"

"He's a two-year-old boy, so of course he'll love this talking dump truck!"

Sure, these toddlers might like these toys. But I also think that the two-year-old girl might like the dump truck. The two-year-old boy might like to wear the tiara.

And there's nothing wrong with either of these preferences.

What's the toy box (or dress-up chest) like in your house?

Beyond 5T

2010-10-07T14:01:00.002-04:00

I've been thinking about clothes lately. Not my own, of course, given that I hate to shop and have very little fashion sense. This post is about Isabella's clothes. I'll devote a separate one to Nicholas'.

Isabella currently wears clothes in size 5T. For my international friends, this is basically the biggest clothing size in baby and toddler lines. Most 5Ts are a little big for her and some of her 4T wardrobe still fits her (depending on the brand), but 5T is the size I'm currently buying, since they'll last longer.

In less than a year, she'll be moving up to the "big girls" clothing sizes.

I am not pleased.

I'm finding a huge difference in style, cut, and patterns between the "toddler" sizes and the "big girl" sizes. It's not a change for the better.

I read recently (can't remember where) that clothing designers make the same clothes for girls just out of the 5T size that they do for tweens and even teens. Because tweens and teens do not want to wear the styles and colors that the little ones wear lest they appear too babyish, companies design "up," meaning, the clothes are much more suited to an older girl than they are to the pre-schooler or Kindergartner who just moved into the big girl sizes.

Here's an example.

I mainly shop at Target, Old Navy, Carter's, and The Children's Place for Isabella's clothes. Most of the time I shop online because I am not masochistic enough to haul the Triple Threat into stores on my own. But I had to return an outfit that Isabella received for her birthday to one of the stores listed above, and in looking around for a replacement outfit, I was at a loss to find something - anything- age-appropriate for her to wear, since this store's little kids' line stops at size 4T.

Here's what I found available in her size:

Ultra short skirts in animal print, and pleated, with a zipper down the center. I really don't want my four-year-old resembling a groupie at a Kid Rock show.

Glittery shirts, adorned with peace symbols, rhinestone butterflies, or tie-dyed hearts. They had sayings on them like "Love, Peace, and Harmony" and "Totally Awesome."

Ripped jeans. Lots and lots of "distressed" (read: shredded) jeans.

For my four-year-old.

I'm hardly old-fashioned, but perhaps my sense of style is. I'm already missing the adorable polka dot shirts and tights, striped leggings, and long peasant dresses Isabella will soon outgrow. "Big kids" clothing for girls does not look well made in these stores, nor does it look appropriate for a preschooler. And while I know there are more expensive stores whose clothing for girls does not look like what I just described, I can't afford to shop there.

Apparently, I am stuck with what's available in these stores.

If you have girls who have outgrown the toddler sizes, please tell me where you find cute, age-appropriate, and not-too-expensive clothing!

*************************************************************************

And speaking of scary, there's a new PSA inferring that feeding kids junk food is the same as giving them heroin. It's designed to address the skyrocketing rate of childhood obesity in the U.S. Check out my post on my health and wellness blog and let me know what you think about it.

Isabella at 4 Years, 1 Month

2010-10-04T08:02:00.001-04:00

Isabella has had an interesting month.

I've noticed that four is a defiant age. Isabella is testing her limits and objecting to things that she would normally placidly agree to, seemingly just to push my buttons. She's always been opinionated and outspoken, but recently, she's taken this to a whole new level.

Let's talk tennis for a moment, shall we?

My health club has the best tennis facilities, coaches, and programs for kids in my area, so when the fall schedule for kids' programming came out, we asked Isabella if she would like to take the 7-week-long lessons. She eagerly agreed. I pitched the idea to write about the Kids Tennis Program for my health club's blog, and received comped lessons.

She picked out a new tennis racket. She practiced with the hubs, who played tennis in high school. She had a blast at her first two lessons.

But at her third lesson, she refused to participate. She clung to me like I was dropping her off at boarding school for six months. She cried and asked to leave. Despite my encouragement and that of her coach, we had to leave the court and go home. This was not even a drop-off scenario, because I sit 10 feet away from her, on the bleachers on the court, taking notes and photos for my blog post. And she never said she didn't want me to leave her.

She never gave any reason at all for wanting to stop taking lessons.

And on Saturday, the scenario repeated itself. Except this time, we didn't even make it into the car in our driveway.

I am completely confused. I think she is too, especially since she is jazzed about going to hit balls with the hubs today after preschool. She loves to "play tennis." Apparently, she does not love tennis lessons, which, I must say from having watched them, are so much fun and not hardcore in the slightest.

On the school front, she is doing wonderfully, although I must admit the back and forth loading and unloading of kids to make the preschool trip twice a day, four times a week is a bit tiresome. Preschool needs busing. I would pay for it, gladly.

And, school is wiping her out. She goes to preschool from 12:30-3:30, a time she's to this point spent either napping or more recently, having quiet time in her room. After picking her up, she's asked to take a nap at least three separate times, something she has firmly resisted doing for months now.

However, I must give credit to the awesome idea that Notes From the Frugal Trenches suggested in response to my need for Isabella to have quiet time in her room this past summer. She suggested filling 7 boxes with some of Isabella's toys, and giving her one box to play for each day of the week during quiet time. I started this over the summer, filling the boxes mainly with Isabella's own toys, but adding in a new box of crayons, or a sheet of stickers to keep things interesting.

To my complete delight, it worked. Now, on the days she doesn't have preschool (Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays) she stays in her room from 1-3pm and plays. No more yelling to come downstairs. I added in a Sticker Reward Chart, so each time she successfully stays in her room for quiet time, she places a sticker on her chart, and after so many stickers in a row, she gets a reward.

Oddly, the treat has not mattered to her so much as the excitement of adding another sticker to her chart. I've only purchased her one reward, this book, which I adore and highly recommend for any little girl.

Isabella continues to be a sweet and gentle big sister. When I begin to lose my mind with the twins, Isabella talks calmly and sweetly to them, trying to get them to comply with whatever it is they've been ignoring from my mouth. But I know their neediness grates on her. My great uncle took her and I out to breakfast on Friday morning while my great aunt and grandma watched the twins. After eating she said, "At least we got to eat in quiet!"

Amen, girlfriend.

She continues to ask me first thing in the morning, "Where are we going? Who's coming over today? Do I have a playdate today? How about preschool? Where are we going after preschool? Can we go to the library/playground/so-and-so's house?"

She likes to stay active, but I do believe she needs her own cruise director, because mommy is really, really tired.

Current Likes: Helping me clean (Holla!), doing somersaults, boys (God help me)

Current Dislikes: Tennis Lessons of Doom

Something for Me

2010-10-02T16:02:00.005-04:00

Being a CSN Preferred Blogger is a wonderful opportunity for which I'm very grateful. I've been able to order and review some great products for the Triple Threat, but now it might be time to review something for me.

If Nicholas weren't hell-bent on climbing on top of our end tables and catapulting himself into death's path, I might order new ones, because ours are basically wrecked and CSN Stores has some great ones. They have over 200 online stores, so if you need it (or want it), they sell it and will deliver it to you really, really quickly. They also have a great rewards program, so when you create an account and place an order, you receive 3% back on your purchases to spend on future orders.

Instead, I might opt for a pair of shoes or maybe a new bedding set, since mine pre-dates the Reagan era.

And if you're interested in the train table I ordered for Nicholas and Luci's birthday, this is the one I chose.

They are turning 2 in less than 2 weeks!

Reducing Twins

2010-09-28T14:37:00.003-04:00

As a mom who underwent fertility treatments and ended up with twins, this essay was difficult to read.

The writer is a mother to a three-year-old son, whom she conceived "naturally." She and her husband wanted one more child, and after trying for over a year, began fertility treatments. Neither she nor her husband wanted multiples. They struggled with the responsibilities, time, and finances associated with raising their son, and they knew they could not handle more than one more child. Her husband's insurance policy covered IVF, which the couple wanted to use to transfer just one embryo and decrease the chance for multiples, but in order for the policy to cover IVF, they had to try IUI (intra-uterine insemination) first.

Her IUI resulted in a twin pregnancy. IUIs actually result in more multiples than IVF does, because the number of follicles released by the ovaries cannot be controlled. This is how Kate Gosselin got pregnant with sextuplets, and how most higher order multiples happen.

The writer agonized over her decision, but ultimately elected to travel to a different state where she found a doctor to reduce the pregnancy to a single fetus.

She says this about her decision, "I know it sounds selfish, but I wanted to protect the well-being of the people already in my life — my son, my husband, and, yes, myself."

The author of this piece has been vilified.

"She used fertility treatments, and everyone knows what happens when you do IUI or IVF. You get twins, triplets, or more. Deal with it."

"She went into it knowing the significant possibility for multiples."

"She asked for it"

"Twins are not high-risk. Selective reduction should not have been an option - anywhere."

Here's what I think.

I'm pro-choice. I believe every woman has the right to decide what happens to herself, her body, and her family. As a result, I support this woman's choice, even though it's one I would not have made for myself. Even thought it's one that many, even those who say they are pro-choice, disapprove of. Was her decision selfish? Maybe. But who's going to make the call as to what is or is not a "reason" to have an abortion? She knew she was not capable of raising twins + her older son in a healthy situation. And she made a really difficult decision because of it.

Most women who undergo fertility treatments do not want multiples. We want the singleton our best friend, neighbor, co-worker, and cashier at the grocery store got pregnant with after a few months of trying, or no trying at all. While we may say, "hell, after two years of trying, I'll take however many I can get," we don't really mean this. We may be infertile, but that doesn't mean we're Michelle Duggar. Twins and triplets scare the shit out of us too.

But on an even more personal level, I give the writer a great deal of credit for taking into consideration her and her husband's limits, abilities, and their desire to grow their family the way they wanted to, and not the way most other people thought they should. She knew they could not handle twins, for myriad reasons. She knew that to bring two babies into her life would not be healthy for the babies, or for her three-year-old son, not to mention the housing, job, and financial considerations involved in raising three children.

Believe me, I know all too well what this is like. If you read this blog on a regular basis, you know too.

I did not ever consider reducing my pregnancy to one fetus once I found out I was carrying twins, even though I spent the months prior to the pregnancy freaking out over the possibility of multiples. I had always wanted two children. I never wanted more than two. I did not want twins because I had Isabella already. I believe I felt this way because I knew I was not equipped to deal with three children under the age of three. Frankly, I'm not equipped to deal with a 4-year-old and two almost-two-year-olds. A preschooler + high-needs toddler twins is too much for me. Most days, I am on the brink. I feel like a customer service rep at a high-volume call center, meeting one need after another, all day every day.

What defines "too many children" is different for every family. For this woman, a toddler son + newborn twins was too much. For someone else, that kind of family is a breeze. She had every right to have the family that was the ideal one for her, just as women who get abortions because they're single, or in school, or unemployed and living at home with their parents do every day.

In my opinion, to criticize the writer, as many have done, is unfair and it is wrong.

What do you think about her decision?

Luci and Nicholas at 23 Months

2010-09-21T15:02:00.001-04:00

My hellcats are almost two.

Most moms I know say that their kids' baby and toddler years passed in a blur, that they can barely remember the diaper blowout stage, the throwing food stage, or the biting stage.

I agree wholeheartedly, but my momnesia goes one step further. I literally cannot remember things that my kids have done or said yesterday. It is bad. Very bad. Which is why making time to write these monthly updates on my kids is a good thing, even when I have a Drafts folder full of more interesting topics I'm dying to write about. These posts help me remember.

We're all in the throes of adjusting to the new fall schedule. Most weekday mornings, I pack up the kids and head to the gym. Luci and Nicholas are still loving the daycare there (thank you, Jesus) and cannot wait to run through the doors and play. My work schedule is insane these days, and I may have to convert a couple of my workout days into partial work days - do a quick workout, and then whip out the laptop and take advantage of the quiet and free Wi-Fi in my gym's lounge.

Then, it's home for lunch, and back in the car again to take Isabella to preschool. They come home for naps, which Monday-Thursday I usually have to cut short for Nicholas (but never for Luci), because Isabella has to be picked up at 3:30. I am still very, very thankful that these two sleep well at night-usually for 13 hours, from 7pm-8am.

Busted.

Luci is chattering away these days, with "I got it!" and "Dude! Time Out!" as her favorite phrases. Yes, she enjoys monitoring her brother's behavior and enforcing punishment, when necessary. Her hair is a hot mess, and yet she will not keep barrettes or hairbands in it for very long.

Her Daddyitis (a beautiful thing, I might add) continues, and when her daddy is around, he's all she wants. Fortunately, she's a fickle beast, and when he's out of sight, she doesn't pine for him.

Her eating habits are deplorable, which I remember Isabella going through at this age. If it's not one of her stand-bys (homemade chicken soup, courtesy of my great aunt or my grandma), eggs, yogurt, or bread, she often refuses to eat. I'm still making zucchini muffins, so at least she eats those.

Dolls are her favorite playthings, as well as whatever her brother happens to be holding at any given time. She also loves to color with crayons, and keep a continuous dialogue going anytime she's in the car: "MommyLookMommyCar!Bird!MommyBook!Mommy!Shoes!Mommy?MOMMY?AHHHHHHH"

I wish she hadn't abandoned her binky at 3 months old.

Nicholas.

Oh, Nicholas.

This child of mine is all boy. He is a mere breath away from an untimely demise seemingly every second of the day-climbing on top of end tables and launching himself onto sofas, pushing chairs all over the dining room, standing on them, and attempting to turn light switches on and off, sticking his above-average-sized head into the small opening in the windmill obstacle on a miniature golf course and getting it stuck there.

He knows no fear.

Nicholas is also super strong. If I have him in my arms and he wants to walk, he will lunge downward, and sometimes he is very close to taking me to the ground with him.

The language edge is still his. He yammers up a storm all day: ("More egg please!" "I afraid!" "Grandma's here!") and unsurprisingly, his favorite word is still "no." Or "mine."

Luci has been telling me about her dirty diapers for a month or so now, and this past month, Nicholas is telling me too. We are nowhere near ready to try potty-training with these two, though, and are hoping that Isabella steps up to the plate and does it herself.

The theme of their birthday is Elmo and Abby. Interestingly, Sesame Street is about the only tv show they demonstrate the slightest interest in. Unlike Isabella, who at this age was all about tv during the limited amount of time we allowed her to watch it, the twins do not care about it at all.

I think tv would only distract them from continuing their path of destruction.

Luci

Likes: Control, bucking the system

Dislikes: Naps lasting longer than 1.5 hours, wearing her diaper

Nicholas

Likes: Wearing oven mitts and his sister's pink Elmo jacket, using his head as a weapon

Dislikes: Food delays

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2010-09-15T00:00:00.002-04:00

The self-indulgent pity-party of last week is over. Thanks to everyone who emailed, commented, and posted on my Facebook wall last week about the half-marathon that wasn't. I can't tell you how much your support means to me. Well, I could, but then I would dissolve once again into a pile of snot and tears, and Lord knows I spent all last week doing that and I'm out of tissues.

I have completed two of my three sessions of electrical stimulation and ART therapy with my chiropractor. Tomorrow is my last one, after which he told me he wants me to go for a run - he's that confident that I will feel good enough to do it. I am hesitant. He's a marathoner and an Iron Man finisher. He says calf strains are common and fixable. But I've had pain for over a month now, and I'm hesitant to believe him. We'll see.

Now it's time to talk preschool.

Yesterday was Isabella's first day back. It was just a half-day (her first full, three-hour day is today). She's attending preschool four afternoons a week, Monday-Thursday, from 12:30-3:30. She was so excited to go back.

It made me a little sad to see that her entire class, except for Isabella and one other boy, were together in the three-mornings-a-week program. Isabella's class last year was awesome. Great kids and wonderful parents. She loved her classmates, and one little boy in particular, with whom she shared her Thomas the Train magazines. She made a few comments about her former classmates, and asked whether they would be with her in her new program. Fortunately, one boy from her class last year is in her current afternoon program, which made it more comfortable for her.

When I dropped her off (oh, how I love you, outside drop-off and pick-up, which means I no longer have to load the twins into the stroller and shove the thing through the winter's snow and slush to take Isabella inside the building - pick-up was always outside), she took off into the playground without even saying goodbye.

I am so happy she loves school. It is structure and time for herself that she really needs. The twins require so much of me, and the three of them are almost always together. This belongs completely to Isabella, and she just thrives in preschool, "where mothers who don't want to watch their children dump them off" (TM: My Grandma).

Her program this year is modeled after pre-K (my district, and most suburban districts in my area do not have pre-K), and all the parents that I've spoken to whose children have been through Isabella's current program have told me that their children are so well prepared for Kindergarten after "graduating."

Considering that last week, Isabella told me that I should sell Nicholas in a garage sale, it was no surprise that her goodbye to her brother and sister was heavy on the short and light on the sweet.

T-minus 365 days until the hellcats start three-mornings-a-week preschool. It will be an expense we cannot really afford, but by God, I don't care if I have to sell platelets or a vital organ to pay tuition. They're going.

And one year from now, this one's headed to Kindergarten.

Over Before It Begins

2010-09-10T19:50:00.003-04:00

It's Marathon Weekend in my city.

The half-marathon for which I've been training for the last six months will go on without me.

The calf injury has taken me out of the running. Literally.

I wrote about some of my feelings, the specifics of my injury, and the electrical stimulation and Active Release Technique therapy my chiropractor is giving me over on my health and wellness blog. You can check out that post here.

I kept that post fairly light. The personal details and the deeper emotions I'm experiencing because of not running, I've left for this blog, where I feel safer, and where many of you know exactly what my training and what this race meant to me.

The past six months have been difficult. Really, really difficult. Training for a big event like a marathon, half-marathon, or a triathlon is more than physically challenging. There is a huge mental game that's played as well.

Anyone in training has to put aside certain parts of their "normal" lives in order to train. Sleep is lost. Family time shrinks. Friendships are put on the back burner. Budgets are blown on gear.

In that respect, I am not much different than anyone else.

But to all of this, I added the primary responsibility of childcare for three kids under the age of 4.

To this, I added what amounts to a part-time (and often more) work schedule, beginning when the kids go to bed at 7pm and ending at midnight.

In these respects, training was more challenging for me. Most days, it took every last ounce of energy, every last spare second of the day, every last bit of mental and physical strength I had.

And while I know in my mind it isn't, my heart feels like it was all for nothing.

I always ran on less than six hours of sleep. I ran after getting three kids up, fed, dressed, packed up with snacks and cups, strapped into car seats, and dropped off at my gym's daycare, and said silent prayers while getting in my miles on the treadmill that one of the twins wouldn't need a diaper change while I was mid-run.

Sometimes I ran in the pre-dawn hours of hot summer Saturdays, trying to beat the heat and humidity. I ran while the kids got up, ate breakfast, and began the day.

Sometimes I ran while closing the door on two screaming toddlers, who wondered where mommy was going and when she would be back. I returned to toddlers still screaming, swirling around my feet, begging to be picked up, whose needs allowed no time for recovery from 10+ mile runs completed at an 8:20 pace.

Their needs and mine were never compatible.

I trained minus support, in most cases. My sister is training for a half-marathon too, on the other side of the country. We shared running stories. Isabella expressed concern over my disappearing toenails, and always asked me when I returned, "How many miles did you run today, mommy?" And the people who work at my gym, all of them athletes, would ask me how training was going, offering encouragement and advice.

But everyone else in my family regarded my training with feelings ranging from indifference to disdain. No one got it. They thought I was selfish, stupid, and over-extending myself for no reason. There was resentment and anger and very little empathy when I got injured. I can count on one hand the number of people in my immediate circle who get what I'm going through right now.

It's hard to go through this level of disappointment alone.

My training was not easy, physically or emotionally.

I wanted to cross that finish line on Sunday with a time around 1hour, 50 minutes. I wanted to cross that finish line knowing I accomplished something many aren't able to. That I, with the utter insanity of my life, was able to run my race and meet my goal time in spite of everything that threatened to hold me back every single day.

I wanted to cross that finish line because running has always been the one thing I could control, in a life that spirals out of it daily.

Now this goal, this dream of the half-marathon, like so many others, has to be shelved too.

I know there are many races ahead of me. I know I will have another chance in seven months, when my city has its next half-marathon.

But right now it's hard for me to accept that it's over. I've fallen short. And while I accept that what happened to me was beyond my control, it does not make the pain lessen.

It's done.

And there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

Daddy Danger

2010-09-07T14:30:00.002-04:00

I haven't yet had the "Stranger Danger" conversation with Isabella. I know it's overdue, but I don't want to cause any unnecessary fears when (knock on wood), she's been a pretty easy kid to deal with (no separation anxiety, monster in the closet, mascot/character, etc. fears).

We'll need to have this conversation soon, which is why I found this article interesting. It outlines six strategies parents can use to educate their children about stranger awareness without scaring them.

It was posted on Facebook by the dad of one of Isabella's two best buddies. #6 offended him.

The writer, who is female, does not allow her daughter in any situation alone with a man who is not her father. No playdates at friends' houses unless mom is around, no camps unless female counselors are there, no swimming lessons with male instructors.

Here's what the writer says:

"Make it easier on your children to be safe by eliminating as many exceptions as you can ahead of time. For example, we don't want our daughter to be fearful of men or have to assess the risk potential of every man she encounters, so we have a simple rule: She is not allowed in any situation alone with a man or men (except Daddy.)... When she asks why she can't play at So and So's house, we say that So and So's mother won't be home and it's not appropriate for her to be there with only the Dad home. It's a simple rule that increases her personal safety without frightening her."

I'm offended by this as well.

To follow this train of thought is to infer that all men are potential child molesters. It's fear tactics like this one that make some believe that all gays and Catholic priests abuse little boys, that all Muslims are terrorists, that all black men are going to rob you.

And I find it ironic that the writer says she doesn't want her daughter to be afraid of men, but then sends her daughter the message than being in the company of men who are not her dad is dangerous and inappropriate.

We're not at the drop-off playdate stage yet, but in another year or so when we are, I would have absolutely no problem sending Isabella over to her friend's house to play if just her friend's dad was there, assuming that I am on good terms with the friend's parents (I would want to know the parents fairly well whether mom or dad-or both-would be present). There were male swimming instructors at my gym where Isabella took lessons this year. She happened to have all female instructors for her lessons, but I would not have cared if her teacher was male. And her camps at the science museum this summer were staffed by male and female counselors.

She's also about to start tennis lessons at my gym, where the tennis instructor, and director of children's tennis, is male.

None of these circumstances have raised a red flag for me.

Should they?

This writer is using faulty logic. Who's to say mom isn't an alcoholic and is drinking while the kids are playing, or that Big Sister or Big Brother isn't sitting in the next room smoking pot?

Are male family members on the writer's persona non grata list? Is her daughter unable to go for ice cream with Uncle Steve?

Is she allowed to play soccer if her coach is male?

And what about single fathers, those with joint or full custody of their kids, and gay dads? Does the writer not allow her daughter to have playdates with friends in this type of family situation?

Would her rules be the same if she had a son instead of a daughter?

I haven't been at this parenting gig long, and Lord knows I've made plenty of mistakes along the way, but wouldn't it be better to teach stranger awareness that does not target just one gender?

What's your stranger danger teaching method? And what do you think of the writer's policy to ban playdates, lessons, and camps where men other than dad are present?

Sunny Days

2010-09-06T00:00:00.004-04:00

Mommy guilt is ubiquitous. On almost every blog I read, many of which are written by women who are mothers (I'm not so much a fan of the "mommy blogger" term), moms are concerned that they work too much and don't spend enough time with their kids, or that older kids are short-changed because their attention is focused on younger siblings, or that they haven't done enough to prepare their Kindergarten-bound child for school, or...or...or. The list never ends.

As mom to two high-needs 22-month-olds and once just-turned-four-year-old, I am mommy guilt personified. The twins are the recipients of most of my time and energy, simply because they demand it, and because if they don't receive it, they are much more likely to hurl themselves into traffic or draw blood than is the four-year-old. Isabella gets the short end of the stick. A lot. But there's only one of me and three of them for the majority of the day, and so her needs and wants often have to take a back seat to theirs.

For her birthday, we decided to take her (and us) away from the madness, insanity, and non-stop screaming of our house. Her gift this year was a trip to Sesame Place, outside of Philadelphia, and to The Crayola Factory, in Easton, PA.

I love the fact that at four years old, Isabella still enjoys Sesame Street. This has been one of her favorite shows since she was a toddler herself (and the only one she was allowed to watch for quite awhile, since we limit tv). I know many little girls her age who are into Hannah Montana and other programs meant for older children, and in my quest to keep her young as long as possible, I like the fact that Sesame Street is age-appropriate, educational, and fun for both of us, and for the twins. (Adrian Grenier and Paul Rudd were guests stars this past season. Fun for the kids AND for mommy!)

And so we packed up for the six-hour drive, equipped with a borrowed DVD player for the car. Given that Isabella's longest car trip to date was to see Thomas the Train back in May, and that she flipped her shit after a mere 30 minutes, demanding to get out of the car, and whyyyyyy was is taking so looooong to get there, I figured she would be watching it all the way down and all the way back home. I wanted to avoid this, of course, so I backed a huge bag of books, Color Wonder books and markers, crayons, stickers, and books on CD-including Olivia, her current favorites, and, of course, Charlie her bear, to keep her occupied.

Imagine my surprise when one hour into the trip, I glanced back and saw this:

We spent over 12 hours in the car over the span of three days. She watched her new Thomas the Train DVD that she received for her birthday exactly twice for an hour each time. She also slept both on the way there and on the way back home. To say I was stunned at these two events does not even cover it.

The goal for this trip was to do it as cheaply as possible. We packed a lunch and ate it on the way down. We stayed two nights at a hotel in Princeton, and saved over $100 by choosing a hotel that was about a 15-minute drive from Sesame Place. The hotel included continental breakfast, so that meal was taken care of for both mornings. The park tickets themselves were pricey, but we cut enough corners to make the trip affordable. Saving money is an embarrassingly big thrill for me.

We checked into the hotel, and then drove to the park. The skies looked like rain, but someone's excitement was off the charts.

If you go to Sesame Place, do not pay for parking. The park is in a suburban area and just down the road is a mall. The hubs dropped off Isabella and me at the gates, and he parked in the mall, a short walk away, for free.

Also, if you're taking a toddler or preschooler, bring a stroller, even if you child no longer rides in one. Sesame Place is not super-big, but she did get tired from all the walking, and we used the stroller a lot. Everyone there uses one, if not for their kids then for hauling their gear around.

Almost as soon as we got through the gates, it started to drizzle. And then it started to rain. Fortunately, one of their three live shows was just about to start, so we made our way into the outdoor (but covered) theatre.

And as the rain poured down, we watched the Sesame Street friends perform.

Once the show was over, it was still raining, but it had lessened. We decided to hit some water rides.

Isabella was fearless, and went on a bunch of waterslides and tube slides. It was still raining, but we were wet anyway, so it didn't really matter.

However, once we were done with the waterslides, it started to pour again, so around dinnertime we decided to call it a day.

Surprisingly, Isabella's first nights in a hotel went very well. We had one large room with a queen-sized bed and a pull-out couch. Isabella went right to sleep (she was exhausted) both night, without issue.

The next day, we were back at the park when it opened. We did the rides, and Isabella had a blast.

The Sesame Street friends wander around the park, and then you generally have to stand in a line to have your photos taken with them. A photographer accompanies the characters, and after your photo is taken (you can also take your own), they give you a bracelet with a barcode that you can have scanned at different kiosks. You can buy the photo if you want.

We saw most of the friends out in the park over the two days we were there, although sometimes we didn't stand in line for photos with all of them.

I was pretty thrilled upon meeting my goth idol.

Isabella wanted to meet all the friends, of course, but the reason we didn't was because as part of the package we purchased, we had tickets to "Lunch with Big Bird and Friends" on the second day.

I cannot recommend a meal with the friends enough. Basically, it's a buffet lunch for about 40 or so families at a time (there are two sittings for lunch and two for dinner daily), and the characters walk around to the tables, give out hugs, pose for photos, and even do individual (and group) singing and dancing routines after the meal is over. The kids are able to have unrestricted, "up close and personal" interaction with the characters for significant lengths of time-much more time than they're given in a quick photo session out in the park.

They advertise a "kids menu" and an "adults menu," but fortunately, all the food is on one big buffet line, and anyone can eat anything, which was great, because the food for adults was actually really good: roasted chicken, pasta marinara, roasted vegetables, etc. The kids food, none of which Isabella eats, was standard kiddie fare (hot dogs, mac and cheese, chicken fingers), so she just ate off the adults menu.

Isabella is all about Big Bird, so her meeting with the big yellow bird was the highlight of the entire trip for her.

After lunch, it was off to the parade. We got an inside tip about the best place to stand to see the characters. In case you ever go, stand where the blue street switches to black. All the characters stop and sing and dance at this spot.

We rode a few more rides, and did some shopping after that. Of course, Isabella wanted to take home Big Bird.

And then she wanted me to take a photo with her new friend, whom, incidentally, she now carries around the house with her (along with Charlie) and who now sleeps with her and Charlie at night too.

Sesame Place was awesome. It's definitely a place I would love to visit again, when the twins are Isabella's age. Taking them with us would not have made the trip enjoyable, and while they probably would have had fun for a short amount of time, it's really a park for the 3+ set.

Isabella had an amazing time. She's still talking about it, almost two weeks later.

On the way home, we stopped at The Crayola Factory. Since Isabella could do art projects from morning until night if I let her, I knew she would adore this place. And she did.

She painted with hot, melted crayons...

Colored Model Magic with markers and then sculpted it into flowers and the letter "I"...

And made an "under-the-sea" fish creation with packaging bubbles and paint...

Used sidewalk chalk on a giant floor canvas...

And drew with markers on a huge glass wall, among many other artistic endeavors.

It only took about 20 minutes to take a decent picture of Miss PhotoPhobic with her favorite color crayon.

Then, we ate our "free lunch" (I swiped wheat bread, peanut butter, fruit, and yogurt) from the continental breakfast buffet at the hotel that morning) outside the factory, and Isabella watched a cute puppet show while eating.

We went back in to tour the National Canal Museum (who knew there was such a place?) which was on the two floors above The Crayola Factory, and whose admission was included in the price.

The name makes it sound incredibly dull, but it was actually a great hands-on museum for kids. Isabella had a blast driving her boat through the canal locks.

Finally, we ended our trip in The Crayola Factory's gift shop. Here's the world's largest crayon: 15 feet long, 1,500 pounds.

About 3pm, we headed for home.

It was a great trip, and one that perhaps we'll do again when the twins are Isabella's age. I was so glad to have this time away with just her. It was wonderful to escape the twinsanity and be able to give her our undivided attention for 72 straight hours.

Sunny days, indeed.

Luci and Nicholas at 22.5 Months

2010-09-01T19:31:00.003-04:00

Dear Luci and Nicholas,

Someday if you read this, I hope you will not hold it against me that your monthly updates are always late, when the updates I wrote for your sister when she was your age were pretty much posted on the date she was born, each month. Also, please forgive me that I have approximately one-half of the photos of the two of you as babies and toddlers that I have of your sister, that I haven't written in your baby book (yes, that's book, you share one-don't hate me for that either) since you were four months old, and that most of the time, we're more of a Lord of the Flies family than a Dr. Sears one.

Love,

Mom

Oh, where to begin with these two this past month.

Let's start with the good. They were apparently angels for my mother when the hubs, Isabella, and I were at Sesame Place and The Crayola Factory. My mom said there was no screaming, no throwing food, no continual and sound-barrier-breaking temper tantrums, etc. In other words, they were completely different children.

Of course, she often arranged to have two-to-three of my other relatives here from the minute they woke up until bedtime, which makes me believe she was scared of managing them on her own. I can't say I blame her. These two are cute, but they also bring caretakers to their knees.

Luci's top two teeth finally came all the way in, bringing her grand total to four. Her hair is crazy curly in the back, and a hot mess on humid days.

She has started stringing sentences together, and has started telling me when she's pooped. Nicholas, however, is perfectly content to wear a dirty diaper. For the record, I am once again offloading potty training responsibilities to the hubs.

Both babies are high-needs, but Luci has left Nicholas in the dust in that respect. She has raging Daddyitis, and will scream and scream for him when he's not holding her or carrying her around. Of course, her screaming is not reserved only for attention from Daddy lately. It's fairly non-stop, whenever she does not get her way. And there is no calming her.

Luci is defiant, loves to say No! (emphatically, I might add), and is a struggle to feed at dinnertime. The hubs, who is basically Patience Personified, has begun to unravel where the twins' (and most especially, Luci's) behavior is concerned, and this is strangely gratifying to me.

But Luci is also so sweet when she wants to be. She will kiss me multiple times when I'm rocking her before nap or bedtime. She likes to kiss her brother, whom she calls "Dude" more than she calls him "Nico,"and she says, "Hi, Mommy!" all the time, with such enthusiasm.

Luci is currently wearing 18 month clothes, and some 24 months. We just bought her new sneakers, and her feet are size 5.5.

Nicholas is mellowing (slightly), and at least for this past month. He's talking up a storm, and likes to say, among other things, "I afraid!" (fear of the moment is a talking train track), "Go Bye-Bye Car," and "See Bella" (or Goose-Luci).

He loves this Dora lunch bag, which belongs to Isabella. He fills it up each morning with toy kitchen cups, and carries this bag around all day long. He's also a big fan of trying on shoes, as is Luci.

Nicholas loves music. He sings the first verse of the Sesame Street theme song ("Sunny Days, sweeping the clouds away...") and can count to 14. He has specific tracks on Isabella's CDs that he enjoys and asks for by name, and cuts a rug at a moment's notice.

In general, he's a good eater. When I ask him what he wants for breakfast, he'll say, "Pancakes!" "Nanas!" (bananas), and "Egg!" For lunch, it's always, "Soup!" and for dinner, "Pizza!" He is a mama's boy personified, only wants me, and screams whenever I leave the house without him.

And he's still biting. Thankfully, he only bites his sisters, me, and the hubs. No teeth are barred at the gym daycare or during playdates, thankfully.

His feet measure as a size 6, and he's wearing size 24 month clothing, and a few 18 months.

I love them dearly, even though I know it often sounds like I'm ready to list them on Craig's List.

But one or the other of them is screaming or crying literally every 60 seconds, and if they're not, and the house is oddly silent, I know they're either climbing chairs, in the first-floor bathroom and playing in the toilet (having broken through the lock we had to install on the outside), or milliseconds away from inflicting bodily harm on each other.

So, I'm on edge constantly. I can't relax or even allow my mind to wander for a second, because I know the quiet will be broken instantly. I know they're high-needs, but I think some of the problem is me. I require a lot of alone time. Probably more than most. I also require quiet in which to work. Writing is my job, and is not compatible with the cacophony of noise that is always present in my house, until 7pm bedtime. Neither of these is exactly compatible with parenting three small children.

I'm clinging to the fact that things were noticeably easier with Isabella once she turned 3. The twins turn two in another six week.

One more year of insanity to go.

Luci

Current Likes: Being barefoot, naked, and out of control

Current Dislikes: Sleep and foods that are not macaroni and Cheerios

Nicholas

Current Likes: Sleeping with no fewer than four binkies, cars

Current Dislikes: Trains that talk, climbing restrictions

***********************************************************************

My latest post on my health and wellness blog for my gym has to do with Spanx. Women have worn them for years, and now? There are Spanx for Men. Would you (or your boyfriend or partner) wear them? Check out the post and let me know what you think.

This Four-Year-Old's Birthday is Now Extinct

2010-08-30T00:00:00.001-04:00

Last Sunday, before our trip to Sesame Place and the Crayola Factory, I had 30 family members and friends at our house to celebrate Isabella's birthday, Dinosaur Train-style.

Aunt Karrie was here again from Seattle, and she brought Isabella's birthday sign, a masterpiece of countless hours. She creates for one for Isabella's and the twins' birthdays each year.

On the morning of her birthday, Isabella donned her "summer birthday" crown, given to her at preschool at the end of the school year, and opened the books and coloring books we gave her to use on the trip to Sesame Place. The Olivia books and tv show are big with Isabella right now.

Then it was time to get ready for the party, drink heavily, and then attempt to orchestrate a photo of my three children in which there is no crying, closed eyes, or darting out of the frame without warning.

This was as good as it got. Isabella is doing her best dinosaur roar.

Do you like her dress? Mamacita didn't. On Saturday, almost a full week after her party, my mother asks me, "Did you not have enough money to buy Isabella a party dress? You know you can always come to me if you need money." I had not a clue what she was talking about, as I thought the dress I picked out for her was very cute. Mamacita, apparently, thought it "was not special enough." My family does a lot for me, but family closeness always comes at a price. That price? Bearing the weight of Mommy Fail whenever they're around.

Her cake was made by the same woman who has made all of Isabella's and the twins' birthday cakes. She doesn't respond to my emails when I send her images and design ideas, but I can overlook her crappy customer service skills because her cakes look and taste so damn good.

I don't have any decent photos of Isabella blowing out her candles yet, since my friend was taking photos with my camera while I was standing next to Isabella, and my family (aka: The Scarily Militant Paparazzi), blocked her shots...repeatedly. Seriously, you would think my child was Lindsay Lohan leaving jail the way everyone wants her picture. I'm hoping Mamacita has some good ones on her camera since she had the prime spot (Ahem.) I'll probably update this post with her pics.

Isabella's wish once she blew out the candles? "I want the head!" (Meaning, the head of the conductor on the cake, and the same thing she said at the party with her peeps.) Any psychologists in the crowd want to analyze this one?

Then, she opened presents. Lots and lots of presents. Among others, she received many books, lots of dinosaur-themed gifts (books, stamp sets, sticker books,) a few craft/Play-doh kits, and some Thomas trains. But I think her favorite gift was all the Dinosaur Train cars, plus the dinosaurs themselves, from Aunt Karrie.

Any photos of Isabella in which she is smiling are always (and I do mean ALWAYS) the result of at least a full 10 minutes of orchestration, manufactured hi jinks, bribes, and the occasional threat of rescinding after-dinner tv privileges, and possible food the next morning. Girlfriend does not now, nor has she ever, enjoyed having her photo taken. Most of the time she runs from the camera. The rest of the time, she is either stone-faced or sporting a bizarre expression.

This was the best photo of the two of us taken on her birthday. One day, my oldest daughter will learn to smile like her younger siblings, who very willingly ham it up for the camera on cue.

Thanks so much for all the birthday wishes for Isabella, both here on the blog and on Facebook. She is very lucky to have so many who care for her.

And to my Mini Mussolini, (as a wise mama says to her precocious preschooler in your favorite book): "You know, you really wear me out. But I love you anyway."

In Search of a Little Kumbaya

2010-08-28T14:48:00.007-04:00

Someone is almost always screaming in my house, and the cause du jour lately is toy battles. It doesn't matter what the toy is, whether or not it's age-appropriate, or whether one kid is playing with something, and another just happened to walk by and suddenly be struck by a longing for whatever it is he/she has in her hands, the battles are continuous and never-ending and exhausting to mediate.

The twins' birthday is coming up in October, and I've been on the hunt for train tables. This is something all three kids can play with together (I hope).

As a CSN Stores Preferred Blogger, I can review a new product for them every month or so. CSN Stores sells a ton of great stuff, including modern rugs, baby gear, and, of course, train tables. I've had nothing but positive shopping experiences for everything I've ordered from them, and many products come with free shipping. I'm going to review a train table for CSN Stores in the next few weeks. Stay tuned for the review!

And if you have a train table that your kids love, please let me know which one!

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Isabella had a fantastic time at Sesame Place and The Crayola Factory. An update on our trip and her birthday is coming this week!

Happy 4th Birthday, Isabella

2010-08-23T20:00:00.006-04:00

Isabella,

Yesterday, you turned four years old. The night before your birthday, you were quite upset at bedtime.

You did not want to turn four.

As Daddy came to say goodnight, you asked him whether your birthday cake had a four on it. When he replied that it did, you asked him to scrape it off.
Luckily, you woke up in a great mood, announcing, "I had a conversation in my head last night, and now I'm okay with turning four."

I'm so glad, because as the years have passed, you've become sillier, funnier, and smarter. Three has been my favorite age so far.

Over the last few months, I've often been struck by how grown-up you are. Of course, we have two toddlers running around the house. This, by default, makes you the "big kid," and sometimes my expectations of you are beyond your years because of your sister and brother.

But you often speak and negotiate like a mini-adult, reciting memorized facts about dinosaurs, retaining and then talking about minute details of events that happened almost a full year ago, and using words like, "unfortunately," "actually," and "concentrate" in the correct context. Sometimes, this makes it difficult for me to see that really, you're still a little girl, even though you take a serious affront to that label. In fact, you were very offended when one of your camp counselors recently told you that you couldn't ride on the teeter-totter, because you were a little girl, and the teeter totter was for big girls.

You love being the "big girl" and I could not be more proud of the independence and confidence this desire brings.

Over the past year, you've seen some big changes. You rocked your first year at preschool, making me wish I had enrolled you for three days a week rather than two. You loved your teacher and your classmates, and other than a few days in March when you were upset about the switch to a new room, you never had any issues with separation anxiety. You loved the camps and swim lessons you took this summer, in part, because you were able to sail right into them, separate from me, and engage immediately with other kids and your teacher.

When I think about you at school, how much you learned, how confident and social and adaptive it helped to make you, I am filled with pride once again.

Of course, whether you want to be or not, you're still my little girl. Your heart (and mine) broke in two this past spring when we lost Charlie. He is your best friend, and you carry him everywhere. Fortunately, we found that you had stuffed him in a puzzle box, and were able to return your world to normal.

And you've dropped your nap, which I happen to think you still need. Sorry, but it's true. You'll be headed to preschool four afternoons a week beginning next month, so I'm hoping this will help to add a little structure to this time of day when you're at your most restless while we're at home while the twins sleep.

You continue to love art projects, drawing, coloring, and anything that involved glue. It's been close to a year since you began sleeping with books shoved under your pillow, and I can often hear you "reading" them after I've tucked you in. Trips to the library are among your favorite activities, and books about dinosaurs, birds, and the Berenstain Bears are usually tops among your picks.

In so many ways, I see myself in you. From the minute you wake up in the morning, you are on the go and your brain is working. I often feel like your personal cruise director, and on the very rare occasion I don't have a playdate or outing planned for the day, you are not happy. You always want to be out and active, asking me "who's coming over today?" "where are we going?" and "Can we go to the playground/museum/Starbucks?"

Yes, even though you only ever get milk and the occasional juice box when we're there, you love Starbucks almost as much as I do.

We've seen some big emotions from you over the past few months. Like me, you enjoy getting your way. And when negotiations break down, you are less than thrilled. You've logged some minutes in Time Out lately, and I hope the pouting and random exhaustion-fueled tantrums are not around for the long haul.

Your brother and sister adore you, their "Ba-Ba" and "Bella." You love them right back, and are very patient with them, even when they play with your toys. Our house is often filled with screaming, but it's sometimes filled with laughter too.

For your birthday this year, we decided to try something new. The greatest gift I ever received (besides you and your brother and sister, of course) was my college graduation gift, given to me five months before graduation. Your Grammie gave me a three-week class abroad in England. The gift of travel and of experience is incredibly important. I want you to see the world (and for awhile, the States) as I have. So, this year, we're starting small. We did not buy you presents this year.

Instead, tomorrow, we're leaving for Sesame Place. You've loved Sesame Street since you were a toddler, and right now, Big Bird is your favorite. We're spending tomorrow afternoon and all day Wednesday at the park, and then we're spending Thursday at The Crayola Factory, which, given your penchant for art projects and drawing, you might just enjoy more than Sesame Place. Your brother and sister are staying with Grammie. You'll have mommy and daddy all to yourself for the first time in almost two years.

I couldn't possibly love you more, baby girl. Happy 4th birthday.

Broken

2010-08-17T15:38:00.010-04:00

My ability to run in the half-marathon, the one for which I've trained now for over six months, is in jeopardy.

I have been nursing a double calf strain for the past two weeks. My left calf is feeling better. My right one is not.

To say that I am wrecked right now is a drastic understatement.

My training program, the one to which I've religiously held for so long, has been basically untouched for the last 14 days. My last long run was on a Saturday a week and a half ago. I did 11.5 miles in 1 hour, and 39 minutes (an 8:36 per mile pace). My calves hurt a bit then, but it was still possible to run relatively pain-free. The handful of short "does it still hurt?" test runs I've done since then have not gone well. I've slowed down my pace, but pain radiates through my right calf even then.

I have spent a small fortune on various products and services to try and heal this injury. I have bought: heel lifts, Blue Emu, compression sleeves, Allieve, a calf massage at my health club's spa, ace bandages, athlete's tape, and soon, I will purchase a new pair of sneakers, since mine are almost shot (again). I am on a chiropractor's cancellation list, someone who was recommended to me by a trainer friend at my gym as the best chiropractor for runners in my city. I was able to have an evaluation at the physical therapy center, which is also located inside my gym, and the PT determined that my soleus and gastrocnemius muscles are indeed tight and strained, likely due to my training. He gave me two stretches to do, three reps of each leg, 1-2 times a day. I have to hold each stretch for 90 seconds, which seems like an eternity while I'm doing them.

The PT also said I should do seated and standing calf raises. I needed to get over my loathing of the weight machines at the gym in a hurry.

He recommended laying off the running for awhile and cross-training instead, which is what I've been doing. I've been doing interval workouts on the elliptical and the Arc Trainer, desperately trying to keep my fitness level up. He told me that if and when I do run, I should slow down. That if I'm able to run the half, I might have to be content with 10-minute-miles.

I did not train for this long and this hard to run my half-marathon at this pace. There is nothing wrong with running a slower race, but it's not what I've worked for. My goal all along has been to finish under two hours, and this is what I've trained for. It's only been the last month or so when I've believed that through the quality of my training runs, this time was possible. I cannot fathom running a slower race. But that might be my only option, if I'm able to run it at all. And if that's the case, I'm not sure I want to do the race. I had planned to do long runs up to 15 miles, so that when it came time for the race, 13.1 would seem very do-able. I've done two 10-milers, and one 11.5-miler. That's as far as I've gone. Even if I'm able to resume training in a week, there's no time to work up to a 15-mile run.

For the last six months, I have dedicated a large part of my life to training. I have dragged myself out of bed at 6am every Saturday and Sunday morning when I would have given anything to stay under the covers so that I could get my runs in before the heat and humidity arrived.

I have packed up two or three kids, every Monday through Thursday morning, and taken them to the gym daycare so I could train (Friday is my rest day, and Saturday and Sunday, I ran outside). With preschool or camp drop-off and pick-up, various errands, and my mounting freelance work, my schedule has become a chaotic mess, in part, because of this training.

But this was my choice. Running this half-marathon has been a dream of mine for years. I arranged my life as I did so I could reach this goal.

And now? The goal might not be possible.

I appreciate the support and advice some of you have given me on Facebook and in emails. I know if this race isn't possible, there are others. I know I only have one body, and that I need to take care of it, or else I might jeopardize my ability to run in the future. My mind knows all of this.

My heart, though, is breaking right now.

I have given my training everything I've got. I did not skip runs or workouts. I did not run 5 miles when the training program called for 7. I did speedwork, which I loathe, because I knew it would make me faster. I ran in the rain and the wind. I competed in four races and placed twice in my age group. I juggled and scheduled and rescheduled my life with three kids under the age of 4 on a daily basis to get my training in.

And the thought that this was all for nothing is literally destroying my spirit.

The half marathon is 3.5 weeks away.

I'm not sure I'll be at the starting line.

Dr. Isabella, The Paleontologist

2010-08-16T00:00:00.001-04:00

The last two weeks in August always pass in a blur for me. For the last few years, we've held Isabella's party with her peeps the weekend before her actual birthday. Then, the following weekend, we have the big family party.

Saturday was her dinosaur-themed party with her friends. She's still enamored with all things dinosaur, as she's been for almost a year now, and she chose this as her "theme" for her parties.

Eight of her friends came to play outside (thank you, summer birthday).

A trail of dinosaur footprints greeted guests as they arrived, and led the way to the backyard.

I bought almost all the decorations and party favors online at Oriental Trading Company. Best.Party.Site.Ever. Really great stuff. And one-stop shopping. When you don't have the time to blow your nose, much less shop 15 stores for party gear, this site is a lifesaver.

We decorated our screened-in porch, and this is where we had the food and drinks. I loved these hanging dinosaur swirls.

I stuffed the goodie boxes with a dinosaur sticker book, pencil, eraser, temporary tats, squeeze toy, and stamper.

We played three games with the kids. First, I hid dinosaur eggs all over the backyard. Inside each was a baby dinosaur. The kids had an egg hunt to find them.

Then, we did a "dinosaur dig." We hid tiny, plastic dinosaurs in our sandbox and the baby pool (filled with sand), and had the kids pretend they were paleontologists and dig for them.

Finally, we did a "lava flow" game, where we divided the kids into two teams, and they raced to fill a bucket by transferring water from each other's cups. Trying to explain and then help execute this game with a group of four-year-olds was a bit like herding cats. There was some confusion and lots of team-crossing, but I think everyone had fun.

Then it was cake time. Here is my masterpiece. Isabella requested a red (no surprise there) stegosaurus. Instead, she got a pink dragon/pig hybrid.

This cake represents 7 hours of my life I'll never get back. In case you're wondering (and I know you are), the spikes are food coloring-sprayed saltines, the claws and nose are raisins, and the eyes are pieces of gum that I colored with a black marker.

Fortunately, she loved it, and took many of her friends to see her cake as they arrived.

When it was served, she requested the head.

Isabella was sad to see the party come to an end, but that also meant she could dive head-first into her toys. This was definitely something that had changed from her birthday last year. Where last year she would spend time with each gift, and not hurry to move on to the next one, this year she wanted to open and play with every single gift she received, one right after the other.

But before that happened, a little goodbye to her peeps.

Isabella was so excited about having her friends come to her house for the party. Having the party out would be a whole lot easier and less stressful, and it's something I will probably do in the future. But I really like the idea of a casual home party. It was a TON of work, but worth it to see her joy.

Can you believe she turns four on Sunday?

Playing Dress-Up, Twin-Style

2010-08-12T13:22:00.000-04:00

We don't have a lot of dress-up stuff. We have a bag of necklaces and bracelets that Isabella will occasionally use, but although I've meant to get some, we don't have actual clothing for the kids to try on. We are a princess-free household (full disclosure on this coming soon), so we don't have the requisite pink and purple gowns, high-heels, and purses many homes with toddler and preschooler girls have.

However, what we do have are aprons. Lots and lots of aprons. These have come from baking sets Isabella has received as gifts, and some I've purchased for her to wear when doing messy craft projects.

On Saturday morning, the twins channeled their inner Jamie Olivers:

Nicholas especially loves playing dress-up. We've been hitting the library a lot this summer, and the children's room has a huge supply of costumes. This is the exact costume, down to the bandanna and the kerchief, that he picks out each and every time we're there. I have not the slightest idea what this costume is. One of my friends suggested Nicholas looks like a Communist from the Old Country. I think he looks Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof.

You do not want to be the one taking this costume off of Nicholas. At any point. When it's time to take off the costume and go home, we leave a scene of mass destruction and shattered eardrums in our wake.

Luci loves the library's dress-up stash too. Here, she samples what life is like on the right side of the law. Unfortunately, I suspect this is a side she will not see often in the future.

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Would you ever try a pole-dancing class? Would you enroll your five-year-old daughter in one? Classes with names like "Sexy Flexy" and "Promiscuous Girls" are available for young children and tweens in a pole-dancing studio in Ottawa. Check out my latest blog post on my health and wellness blog. Let me know what you think!

Dangerous Complacency

2010-08-06T00:00:00.001-04:00

I have been on the hubs to drop some weight for what seems like forever.

Since I've known him, he hasn't ever been trim. He's told me he was a chubby kid, but in photos of him as a boy, he looks pretty healthy. We started dating in 1997, and he was overweight then. Not dangerously so, but, like many people, he was carrying around some extra weight.

Several years into our relationship, and again after we were married (our ninth wedding anniversary was on Wednesday), he began to gain the so-called "love chub," which I recently wrote about on my health and wellness blog. I was not immune from packing on the pounds. I gained weight after we were married too.

He has done the South Beach Diet several times, with pretty incredible results. At one point, he lost over 50 pounds. It was really, really hard for him, but he stuck with it and it delivered results. I was so proud of him.

He has gained it all back, though. And despite my suggestions that he give it another try, or go to the gym more often, or lay off the unhealthy food choices, nothing is working at this point. He just doesn't want to lose weight. I want him around to see our children grow up (because God knows I can't handle the Triple Threat on my own). I want to see him have more energy and to be more active. This isn't about physical appearance. It's about life and death.

But he doesn't seem to take it seriously.

I have realized that losing weight is one of those things that you have to want for yourself. No one can make you want it, and while a support system helps, you lose each and every pound on your own. No one loses the weight for you.

When I took up running almost seven years ago, I was at my heaviest weight ever, and I made a conscious choice to change my life. I started eating more healthfully. I started exercising. And the weight came off. It was hard work, but I did it.

I really, really wanted it.

Lots of others don't.

I wrote on this topic on my health and wellness blog yesterday. Almost 27% of the American population is now considered obese, and while there are certainly other factors as to why this is the case, I contend that for a lot of overweight and obese Americans, the desire to change their lives is just not there. They are complacent and unwilling to take charge of their health problems.

And I just do not get it.

If you wouldn't mind, please read my post.

Why do you think so many Americans are unhealthy?

Room at the Table

2010-08-05T00:00:00.004-04:00

I'm going to go ahead and state the obvious.

Life was easier in a one-child household.

Isabella wanted to cook in her play kitchen?

Have at it!

Play with the pink doll highchair that cost $15.00 at Target, but from the way my kids fight over it, one would think it was made of chocolate?

No problem!

Color at the ancient little table with a now-not-so-convenient two chairs, one of which had been smashed to smithereens and glued back together?

Why not?

And then the twins came along. And then all of a sudden, our house, currently full-to-bursting with toys, transforms into the Sahara for all three of my blessed babies, where a Lord of the Flies atmosphere reigns and they contemplate a duel to the death for even the most insignificant of objects.

We desperately needed another table for them to draw on, and use for tea parties, and pretend play.

This one, which I love, and which belonged to me and my sister when we were young, was no longer cutting it. We needed to upsize.

And then this arrived from CSN Stores, an online retailer with over 200 stores, offering everything from dining room furniture to office supplies to fitness equipment.

The Kidcraft Nantucket Table is, in a word, awesome. It has seating for four: two chairs, and a bench that sits two.

It's made of extremely sturdy wood and I don't fear that I will obliterate the chairs when I sit on them.

It's cute and functional, with a large table perfect for four kids to use at the same time.

And best of all (for the hubs, anyway), it was super-easy to put together. The screws were sorted in separate bags by function, and the directions were a breeze to follow. The entire set was up in less than 30 minutes.

It's perfect for a quiet dinner for one

A social lunch for two

Or a raucous party for three.

And I am completely thrilled that I no longer have to break up fights over who gets to sit at the two-seated table, and for how long.

(That table-and-chair set has been moved to Isabella's bedroom.)

Once again, as it was when I ordered Isabella's bike from them, the entire ordering experience from CSN Stores was fantastic. I ordered it on a Tuesday and had it delivered three days later. A lot of their products, including this table, ship for free.

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I was recently chosen as a CSN Preferred Blogger, so I'm able to review products for them every couple of months.

In the meantime, if you're in the market for a great table for your kids, I would highly recommend this one. I love it, and the kids love it too.

No Love for the Post-Baby Body

2010-08-03T00:00:00.000-04:00

I am an unashamed reality tv whore. You name it, and I have probably watched it. The list includes genre pioneers such as Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire?, The Real World, and Temptation Island and travels up the respectability ladder (slightly) to The Amazing Race and Survivor. Currently, I'm watching Losing It via the Primetime on-demand channel when it's midnight and I'm done working for the night and need some decompression time before bed.

Losing It is Jillian Michaels' new show in which she moves in with a family leading an unhealthy lifestyle and tries to help them change their habits and lose weight. I've seen The Biggest Loser a few times (of course I have), but I didn't really pay attention to who she was until I began watching Losing It. And while her voice is grating at times (especially when she's yelling at...err...motivating people), I like her. She's hard-core, she has a rockin' body, and she's overcome childhood obesity to become a fitness expert and personal trainer.

Which is why I believe she absolutely does not deserve the flack she received a few months ago (yes, I am behind with my posts) for the comments she made in Women's Health Magazine. Jillian said she plans to adopt rather than giving birth because "I can't handle doing that to my body."

Critics assailed Jillian Michaels for portraying pregnancy as a negative thing, and as something other than a natural function for a woman's body. They said her comments were insensitive to new mothers who are struggling to lose weight and that pregnancy was a wonderful, life-changing experience that she should feel fortunate to experience.

Contrary to what the lithe, lovely, and apparently extraordinarily dim-witted Gwenyth Paltrow has said recently about every woman having the time to work out and lose her baby weight, pregnancy, while wondrous for some women, can create pretty hard-to-reverse changes to our bodies. For many, losing the baby weight isn't as easy scheduling an on-call trainer for a three-hour workout while our nanny(ies) watch our baby.

Real women (read: those of us without a staff to make our meals, clean our houses, and tend to our children) have to work hard to get back to pre-pregnancy weight, and even then, our bodies sometimes look differently than our pre-kids one. Stretch marks, sagging breasts, and persistent cellulite are the war wounds of pregnancy and childbirth. And yes, our little bundles of joy are worth it (most days anyway), but that doesn't erase the fact that having a baby takes both an emotional and a physical toll on a woman's body. And admitting the truth about this and our displeasure with it doesn't make us unappreciative, horrible mothers.

Jillian Michaels' livelihood is dependant upon...her body. She's not only a fitness expert and personal trainer; she's a celebrity whose image is constantly on tv, on the web, and on bookstore shelves. The last five pounds many women struggle to lose after giving birth? The droopy post-nursing boobs? Probably wouldn't help Jillian's career. And although critics can argue all day that our culture needs to stop holding up an unattainable figure as the "ideal woman," the fact is that the entertainment industry is brutal, and if Jillian wants to keep her celebrity fitness guru job, having a baby might compromise that.

And also, it's her body and her life. She's not asking other women to forgo pregnancy and pursue a six-pack. If she doesn't want to have biological children, why do people care so much?

What do you think about the Jillian Michaels' controversy?

Isabella at 3 years, 23 months

2010-08-01T13:32:00.002-04:00

22 days from now, Isabella will turn four years old.

It's been a month of wild mood swings. She is sweet and helpful one minute and a screeching, manic harpie the next. I have to attribute the later of the two behaviors in part to the fact that she is officially done with the nap. And this time, it's for real.

For the last few months, she's taken maybe one nap every 10 days. I've always put her in her room, and she's either rested, or read, or colored for an hour or so before calling me wanting to leave her bedroom. Now, she will not stay up there. At all. And yes, she's almost four, and many kids are done with naps at her age (although I know many who are still napping, every day, at four), but the problem is that she is up by 6-6:30am every single day. And by mid-afternoon, she is exhausted and cranky and tired, so I happen to think she still needs to nap.

She's having none of it.

If your preschoolers don't nap, please give me some suggestions as to things to keep her occupied (preferably things she can do solo).

On the positive side of things, she has become really good at coloring in her coloring books. Where she once would just scribble over a page with whatever crayon happened to be in her hands at the time, she now carefully selects colors and then used them in specific spots on the page: making a face brown, hair red, grass green (or sometimes blue), etc. And she does a fairly good job of staying in the lines as well. Considering I was a coloring contest champion several times over in my youth (a skill for which I have yet to find a real-world application), her prowess in this area is not surprising.

One of Isabella's current favorite pastimes is playing restaurant. Sometimes I am a guest, along with a few dolls and of course, Charlie. She'll set an elaborate table, take my order, and bring me my food. She's also cognizant of what food is served when. If I try to order eggs and toast, she'll say, "This is a dinner place, mommy."

The hubs and I took her to her first baseball game, along with our awesome former neighbors and friends. It was a night game that started at 7pm. She's usually in bed by 7:30, so we didn't know how long she'd last. We left around 9:45pm, and that's because we needed to relieve my mom who was in town and watching the twins. She's not a good night driver, and needed to drive back to my aunt's. Isabella was wide awake, in a great mood, and could have lasted the entire game.

She also enjoyed letting the umpires know exactly what she thought of a few blown calls.

Isabella and I have been using my health club's pool quite a bit to practice the skills she learned in her swimming lessons there. She's now able to go completely underwater all on her own, without getting water up her nose, which is something she definitely wasn't able to do before.

She's taught herself how to whistle, and she also now enjoys hopping around on one foot.

Isabella's been keeping busy this summer, a priority for me since there are a limited number of things I can do with three children by myself, given that two of them are crazy toddlers. She's taken two camps at our children's science museum: Amazing Animals and Wheels, Wings, and Moving Things. She's loved both of them, and I'm so happy to see her literally racing off to her camp each day without caring one bit that I was leaving her there. I'm contemplating enrolling her in one more at the museum, and then she has another in the middle of August, and then in September she's off to preschool, four afternoons a week.

On the last day of her most recent camp, I was a bit early for pick-up, so I pulled up in front of the building just in time to see her and her "campmates" walking in a line from the museum across the street to the building where the camps are held. Each child held the hand of a friend, and Isabella was talking animatedly to her buddy. And I recognized a feeling that I had when she began preschool last September - that she is developing a whole world that is entirely hers.

She's able to enter social situations and feel completely comfortable. She's able to listen to an adult she just met, and to make immediate friends with kids who were strangers seconds before.

She is confident and independent, and I couldn't be more proud of her.

Her dinosaur-themed birthday preparations are under way. For the first time, she'll have both her friend party and her family party at our house. In the past, only her friend party was held here, given space constraints. But this year, big family party will be here too.

Isabella is almost four. And one year from September, she's off to Kindergarten.

Current Likes: Radishes, Olivia, and insomnia-fueled tantrums

Current Dislikes: Sleeping, napping, resting, and zzzzzzzzs

Half a Decade of Blogging BadAss-itude

2010-07-26T00:00:00.001-04:00

July 7th was this blog's 5th anniversary.

5 years is a long time.

I think that's officially longer than most marriages last, right? Or at least longer than I thought mine would last. Kidding, of course.

Five years ago, my friend Marie encouraged me to start my own blog. She had just started hers , and after reading it for awhile, writing my own began to seem like a good idea, especially considering that I was a writer in both my personal and professional life. It's natural to post my innermost thoughts on the web rather than keep them squirrelled away in a journal that no one but me reads, right?

Amazingly, there are a handful of you who have been reading this blog since it's beginning (or near its beginning): Christine, Judy, Ramona, Pru, and I'm sure a few others who I am embarrassingly forgetting to mention. I will always be grateful for your friendship and support, especially considering Interrupted Wanderlust has changed radically from the days where I blogged about running and baking bread and lusting for babies. I know I'm not as interesting to read anymore. I am working hard to correct this, but, most days, the hours literally evaporate. This blog has taken a back seat, and this does not make me happy.

To the rest of you who have picked up this blog somewhere over the last several years and read regularly, and to those who may stop by occasionally to see what I'm currently bitching about, I want to thank you as well. I know what busy lives you lead. The fact that you take five or ten minutes out of your day to spend them here, reading my drivel, and sometimes taking the time to comment is no small thing to me.

Every blogger loves comments. For me, the comments are a support system and an advice stream (far different than the steady assvice stream that I get from my family) that I could never duplicate in my "real" life. Thank you for empathizing and giving it to me straight, even when you disagree with what I've written.

At this point, I don't know where this blog is heading. I have no fewer than 20 posts saved in my Drafts folder, waiting to be written. I am pressed for time on an hourly basis, seven days a week, and between my work, my training, my kids, and ignoring the 17 inches of dust coating every inch of my furniture, I am beyond busy. But for now, I'm going to keep writing when I can. I want to and I need to.

Quitting is not an option.

Luci and Nicholas at 21 Months

2010-07-22T20:00:00.001-04:00

Another month down in twin toddlerland.

Luci and Nicholas have spent the last four weeks perfecting the use of the words "Mine!" and "No!". We have hourly Pay-Per-View-worthy fights over plastic baby spoons, knock-off Matchbox cars found at the bottom of Cheerios boxes, and occasionally, the odd clump of cat hair. You name it, these two will fight eachother to the death for it.

Luci has made great verbal gains in the past month. She's now rocking the two-and-three word phrases her brother has been using for the past several months. Her favorites include, "Mommy? Are you?" (Where are you?), and "Here you go, Mommy!" (while handing me whatever treasure she happens to have in her hands.

Much like her big-sister, Luci loves to color. Also like her big sister, she seems to be left-handed, although I think it may be a few years yet before we can definitively say this.

She will not tolerate anything in her hair for long, a stage I remember loathing in Isabella, as both my daughters have thin, wispy hair in desperate need of a barrette to keep it out of their faces. I believe this hairband lasted 30 seconds in her hair before she yanked it out.

My tiniest terror still has a Sybil-like personality, and can turn on a dime from sweet, playful toddler into screeching, apoplectic harpie. I am convinced that someday she will win an award for her performances. I have my hopes set on pocketing the boatload of cash she will undoubtedly rake in for her film-worthy dramatics. And yes, I feel I am owed every dime she will make.

Her two top teeth are finally coming in. Once they are fully in (and they just broke the gum line about a week ago), this will bring her total number of teeth to four. I am convinced this has to be some sort of record.

Nicholas has finally learned to kiss correctly, after months of simply pressing two pursed lips to cheek in an imitation kiss. With this new-found skill, he is our kissing bandit of the month, surpassing Luci who has held this title for quite some time. Of course, his kiss approaches cannot be trusted, as any minute he may choose to curl back his lips and sink his razor-sharp teeth into your skin instead. Dude likes to bite. Mommy is decidedly not a fan.

I'm convinced this is what Tony Soprano looked like as a toddler.

He knows when to turn on the charm, though, as Nicholas fancies himself the mayor of my health club's daycare, or so I'm told. He greets all the kids when they arrive with individual shouts of "Hi!" and as soon as he sees his favorite staff member, he shouts her name as if he hasn't seen her in a year: "Keyeeeee!" (Kelly).

Nicholas can count to 10, and knows a lot of his letters if you sing the "Alphabet Song." For example, if I say, "A, B, C, D..." he'll say "E!".

He goes down for his naps and at bedtime so incredibly easily. I will rock him for mere minutes in the chair in his room. Then he lifts his head, points to his crib, and says, "Crib!" I put him in there, and that's it. The entire process takes less than 5 minutes.

Both babies like books, although Nicholas is heavily into the book-ripping stage. His current favorites are Isabella's collection of Clifford tales. The jury is still out on whether he'll inherit her Bleakman love.

This pair is still very, very high-needs. My house is still in chaos mode, and we're still a traveling circus everywhere we go. But they're almost two. Which means in another year or so, I know things will be better. And if I've lasted this long, what's another 18 months, right?

Luci

Likes: Crawling on all fours and meowing like a cat, bringing me my shoes, whether I need them or not.

Dislikes: Virtually all vegetables, keeping her shoes on

Nicholas

Likes: Food.

Dislikes: Being told there is no more food

Table for Three

2010-07-20T00:00:00.001-04:00

Isabella's (and now the twins') table set used to belong to my sister and me when we were kids, which means it's officially older than dirt. One of the chairs broke last year when my grandma decided to sit on it. It's been glued back together, but I'm nervous every time one of the kids is on it. Plus, the set only has two chairs, and last time I counted, I have more than two children.

(This photo is of Isabella at her 2nd birthday party, sitting at the table with one of her best peeps. I love that dress, and can't wait for Luci to fit into it...somewhere around her own 4th birthday.)

While they're not avid artists yet, in a few month's time this table will have as much draw for the twins as it does for Isabella, and frankly, I could do without the screaming sessions that will result from a bloody fight over which two kids get to use the chairs. A new table and chairs set is desperately needed.

I've recently been selected as a CSN Stores Preferred Blogger, which means that every couple of months, I can review a new product for them. CSN Stores sell a huge variety of products, including dining room furniture, baby gear, and Isabella's fab new bike, which I reviewed in May, and which Melissa ended up buying for her daughter's 5th birthday. The prices are great, and many products come with free shipping.

I'm going to review a new table and chair set for CSN Stores. Stay tuned for the review!

Running Solo

2010-07-19T00:00:00.000-04:00

There's a lot of running-group love in Spirit of the Marathon (which I can't recommend enough to my fellow runners). All of the people in the movie are training for the Chicago Marathon. Most are ordinary people, some training for a first marathon, and almost all of them train weekly with the same large running group made up of different pace groups.

In one particular scene, one of the featured women is hugging her fellow group members. She had recently gone through a divorce, and her weekly running partners were her support system. They talked about their weeks, psyched eachother up for the long run ahead, and once it started, they chatted their way through mile after mile. When this particular woman started to lose it both physically and mentally around mile 20 of the Chicago Marathon, it was one of her running partners who literally scraped her up off the ground to help her beat the mental demons and finish.

This is not my training experience.

Since I started running seven years ago, I have almost always ran alone. Occasionally, I would run with my sister when she was in town. But other than an early training run back in May in which I ran with my sister and uncle, I have trained alone.

There aren't many people in my "real life" who know about my half-marathon training, and even fewer who care about how important it is to me. My main support comes from my friends in the computer, especially my Marathon Godmother, people at my health club, and some preschool friends who are also runners. My extended family sees my training as foolish, as "just another thing" in a life that was already stressful and full of responsibility before I set this goal. The hubs is often resentful of the time I spend running, as this means increased responsibility for him at home. My main support, honestly, comes from Isabella, who always asks me "how many miles did you run today, mommy?" when I get home from early-morning runs, or who gingerly rubs a Neosporin equivalent onto the many blisters on my feet.

It is hard to train without a support system. But it's also given me the mental fortitude to realize that while the half-marathon is a race in which I'm (obviously) competing against other people, really, I'm competing only with myself. It's me and 13.1 miles on race day, and running solo all these months has prepared me to do battle with the half on my own, and in the end (hopefully) meet my goal of a sub-two-hour race.

This isn't to say that running groups don't have their benefits. I tried one out on Saturday for the first time. I joined our local Fleet Feet distance runners for a 9-mile run. My long runs to this point were averaging less than an 8:30 per mile pace. A week ago, I ran 8.1 miles at an 8:16 pace. However, as I learned on Saturday's 80-degree, sunny, and humid morning, there was a very good reason why there was no 8:30 pace group (the group I intended to join), and that the fastest pace group was a 9:30.

Running long and running very fast are not advisable unless you happen to be Deena Kastor. If race-day weather conditions mimic Saturday's (and in upstate NY in September, they very well could), then there is absolutely no way I can sustain an 8:30 pace. I finished a few minutes behind the group in 1 hour, 25 minutes. Frankly, I'm worried about sustaining a 9:00 minute mile pace, which will get me to the finish line in just under 2 hours. Running with the group in those conditions on Saturday taught me an important lesson, and as a result, I am purposefully slowing down my runs until race day to focus on endurance.

It was also great to be among a large group of runners in a non-race environment. Talking about running isn't something I get to do a lot of "in real life" and I enjoyed the pre-run and post-run chatter. I liked the encouragement I received from the guys once I finished my 9-miles. It's support I don't have when I run solo.

But I couldn't get into my head while with the running group, as I'm used to doing during my runs. I always, always run with my iPod. None of men I ran with (and the group members were all men in their 30s and 40s in perfect physical condition) did. They chatted with eachother. They tried to talk to me, asking me to sing what I was listening to, asking me how I felt, etc. And I did not want to talk to them, and towards the end of the run, I literally could not talk to them because I was struggling to breathe in the heat.

I was constantly worried whether the older dude with the crazy stride and weird arm motions was going to whack my arms as he ran alongside me. I was concerned I was going to miss a turn on the route and run smack into one of the guys because I couldn't hear the pace group leader. And of course, when I fell a bit behind, I felt like a gigantic loser because I was suddenly the girl trying to run with the big boys and clearly out of her league.

So on Saturday, when I'm scheduled to complete the first 10-mile run of my life, I will be running solo. And while keeping my pace steady and slow(er) on my own may be challenging, and while the camaraderie of being amongst fellow runners will be missed to a certain degree, I've realized that I am my own best running company.

And I'm totally okay with that.

NOVICA Winner Announcement

2010-07-16T14:15:00.003-04:00

Thank you to everyone who entered the NOVICA $50 gift card giveaway.

And the winner is...

Jeni!

Congrats!

Jeni, I can't seem to find your email address on your blog, so please send me a message so I can give you your gift code.

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Isabella recently wrapped up two weeks of swimming lessons. If you're interested in what lessons are like for preschoolers (Hint: They will not be able to swim the length of an Olympic-sized pool under water in less than 30 seconds at the end of the lessons), you can check out my review here.

Have a great weekend, everyone.

Wordless Wednesday: Water Babies

2010-07-14T00:00:00.002-04:00

From the spray park

To my grandma's pool (and baby pool)

To the pool at my health club, where Isabella just wrapped up two weeks of swimming lessons

To our backyard baby pool, we've been in the water a lot this summer. Thank God for free entertainment!

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Two more days to enter my $50 gift card giveaway from NOVICA. One of you will win on Friday!

Air Bella's Back

2010-07-12T00:00:00.000-04:00

It wouldn't be summer on this blog without this photo sequence.

Behold, the hubs launching our preshuss firstborn into the air for the last three summers.

A lot of the time, I think that time is literally crawling by. I have been changing diapers non-stop for the last four years.

But then I look at these photos, and no, time is not crawling. It is speeding by. And I have to learn to appreciate the now before it's gone.

June 2008, Age 1.5

August 2009, Age 2.5

July 2010, Age 3.5

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Don't forget to enter my giveaway for a $50 gift card to NOVICA. I will pick a winner on Friday.

Giveaway: $50 at NOVICA

2010-07-09T13:40:00.021-04:00

I am super-excited about my latest giveaway.

I was recently contacted by NOVICA. They are one of the leading fair trade artisan websites, and they work with National Geographic to offer talented artisans around the world a place to express their artistic talents online and to give them access to the world market.

NOVICA works with 2,000 international master artists, and the website offers over 30,000 works of art, each of which is handcrafted.

When you order from NOVICA, you support the work of artists from Peru to West Africa and from Thailand to Mexico, and everywhere in between. And what's really cool is that with each order, you receive a card from the artisan, which will tell you his or her individual story.

Running your own business is hard (trust me, I know), so NOVICA has even created a unique microfinance program to help the artisans expand their craft through small loans, for which they are charged no interest, which I think is just incredible. If you're so inclined, you can even lend a small amount of your own to a struggling artisan.

Their online catalog is huge, and the jewelry and home decor sections are particularly extensive.

NOVICA has generously given me two $50 gift cards, one for me and another for one of you to spend on their site.

Perhaps a hammock for swinging on cool summer nights? This one is $45.99, and only $2.99 for shipping!

I love these hand-blown drinking glasses for $49.95

And these necklaces are so pretty.

The twins would make sure these wouldn't survive a day in my earlobes, but they're gorgeous for a night out.

Wanna win?

Here's how:

You will receive one entry for each of these. Also, please leave me a way to get in contact with you if I cannot do so via your blog.

1. Follow or subscribe to Interrupted Wanderlust (or tell me you already have).

2. Follow or subscribe to my health and wellness blog (or tell me you already have).

3. Post about this giveaway on your blog, and link back to this post.

4. Visit NOVICA and leave a comment here about what you would buy if you won.

I will use random.org to select a winner on Friday, July 16th.

Good luck!

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There's a new post up on my health and wellness blog about marriage weight gain. Did you pack on the pounds after moving in with or marrying your significant other? I did, and apparently, I am not alone. Check it out!

Not Your Mama's Dance Routine

2010-07-06T19:35:00.001-04:00

I took dance lessons for three years, from age 4 to age 7. I was not a particularly talented dancer, which comes as no surprise now given that I am a spectacularly uncoordinated adult. The only reason I succeeded in blending into the crowd at the goth dance clubs I used to frequent in college was because I mastered what the hubs likes to call my "box step." Basically, I moved my feet in a square pattern over and over, while hoping desperately that everyone else was too caught up in their own angst to notice my pathetic attempts at rhythm.

This is me as a freshman in college on the way to the local goth club at which I tended to spend a lot of time. And yes, I realize that a true goth would never be caught dead (ha) grinning from ear to ear like this.

Apparently, dancing has changed quite a bit since the early 80s, when my routines consisted of moving awkwardly to "Keep Your Sunny Side Up" and "One-Eyed, One-Horned, Flying Purple People-Eater."

You've probably seen this video already. It went viral a few weeks ago. But because I'm behind on blogging, I'm writing about it after the buzz has died down. Click the Pause button and let the video load for about 30 seconds, or it will end up starting and stopping often.

Very few things leave me speechless.

This? Rendered me completely silent the first time I saw it.

I was, without a doubt, horrified.

I've read various comments on this video on several different websites. There is a large faction of people who have accused those with reactions like mine of seeing something (meaning, something sexually exploitative) that is simply not there. Of refusing to appreciate this video for what it is: a clip that showcases the dancing talent of these seven-and-eight-year-olds.

But I cannot look at this video without physically cringing. There is something deeply disturbing about watching little girls perform bumping and grinding dance moves better suited to Striptease than to the 3rd graders doing them.

An adult choreographed this routine. More adults sat in the audience and went wild while these girls danced.

Another adult designed costumes better suited for hookers or strippers in sizes to fit little girls.

And yet another grown-up put this video on a website not with a title warning viewers that what they were about to see was wrong on so many different levels, but instead with this: "Little girls working it to 'Single Ladies' and they are Killin' It!"

Walk into any clothing store and you'll see clothes for Kindergartners that look like those an 18-year-old would wear. Walk into any spa, and you'll see services marketed to this same age group and younger.

So really, this routine for a dance competition shouldn't have surprised me as much as it did.

But as the mother to two daughters, I cannot help but feel depressed and powerless to do anything to shelter them from the world they're going to enter into in just a few short years.

What do you think about this video?

Isabella at 3 years, 10 Months

2010-07-01T20:50:00.001-04:00

Isabella is almost four.

I have an almost-four-year-old.

My first but no longer my tiniest dictator had an overall decent month, but we've been witnessing some defiant and sassy behavior of which I am not fond. Listening has become an issue, and as a result of not doing it, Miss Isabella has been logging some minutes in Time Out, during which she screams and yells like a caged wild animal.

The "nap" issue continues to be a problem. She is now refusing to stay in her room even for 30-45 minutes, which is what she's been doing for the last month or so. Now, she might nap once a week or once every 10 days. Most of the time, though, she's calling me whining to leave her room and come downstairs just as I've settled down to work after scarfing down my lunch. I relent, because she has beaten my down and frankly, I don't have the energy to argue with her anymore. She says she will play independently, and she will for about 15 minutes. And then this starts:

"Hey, mommy! Come look at this!"

"Mommy, will you play preschool/library/puzzles/coloring/painting/Play-doh with me?"

"Mommy, can I have a snack?"

"I need you to be done with your work now."

"MOMMMMMMMMYYYY"

As you might imagine, this is killing my work schedule, so for this reason, and several others I am looking into getting a part-time nanny/babysitter for a few mornings and/or afternoons a week. Trying to do the volume of work I now have without childcare has moved into the sphere of ridiculous, and my teeny, tiny shred of sanity is just about severed. The problem I'm finding, however, is that of the three leads I had, two never called/emailed me back, and the third cancelled her interview with me hours before she was supposed to arrive because she had just received a job offer that would conflict with the hours I needed her. Apparently, nannies are not affected by the state of the economy.

The car situation is becoming unmanageable. Isabella is quite literally stuck in the middle of two pincer crabs. All three are side-by-side in the back of my Trailblazer, and the twins have started attacking Isabella by pinching her. The poor thing has nowhere to go, and obviously, much screaming ensues when Luci and Nicholas are on the attack.

The thing is, I do not want a minivan (no offense to my minivan-loving peeps, and I know there are many of you out there). My dream car is a Mini Cooper and I do not think a minivan could possibly be any further away from this. A new car of any kind is out of our price range right now, and I don't know how feasible it is to get a used vehicle capable of comfortably transporting five people for no more than what we're paying on the Trailblazer right now.

In more positive news, Isabella had a blast in her two-week summer camp at her preschool. I wish it was held all summer long so she could enjoy spending more time with her teachers and her preschool friends, many of whom she won't see next year given that she's transitioning to the four-day-a-week afternoon program, and many of them are staying with the three-day morning program. She's taking swimming lessons at my health club now, and is enjoying them also, but my dear daughter is not a natural swimmer. I'm watching the lessons and taking photos of them for the club's Facebook page and blog, and while the other kids seem to be getting the hang of things, Isabella is not quite as adept. She has one more week to go, so we'll see if she improves.

The Charlie love has intensified since his triumphant return. While she would carry him around the house about 80% of the time before his five-hour vacation in the Thomas the Train puzzle box, Charlie is almost always in her arms now. She's also taken to anthropomorphizing him ("Charlie just told me his tummy hurts. When Charlie was lost, he was scared.") She clearly has that separation very much in mind, although she hasn't told me that she's afraid of losing him again.

Note to self: Buy replacement Charlie now.

She still loves art and craft projects and would do them all day long if I had the time or inclination to do them with her. Her Highlights magazine had a recipe for homemade play-doh in it, so a few weeks ago, we made some. Isabella loved it.

Current Likes: Pretend play (library, preschool, train passengers, shopping), radishes

Current Dislikes: Bedtime, parental authority

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Speaking of parental authority, do you think McDonald's and "Big Food" (think Kelloggs and Kraft) are responsible for the childhood obesity epidemic because of the way they market junk food to kids, or do you think parents are to blame? I wrote about this on my health and wellness blog. Check it out and tell me what you think.

The Naked Two-Step

2010-06-28T00:00:00.000-04:00

I was not cut out for twins. I have craved quiet virtually my entire life. "Me time" is more important to me than it is to most. And I am far from the most patient person in the world. Throw a toddler (now preschooler) into the mix, and my sanity sailed out the window oh, long about the second they came from from the hospital.

It's no secret that the life I'm living now is really hard for me. Luci and Nicholas are high-needs babies each of whom records a minimum of 50 temper-tantrums a day.

But then there are moments like this one that occurred one night after dinner. And it made me stop and think, if only for a few seconds, that there are indeed bright spots in the days I share with these two.

Behold, the dancing duo.

Luci and Nicholas at 20 Months

2010-06-24T07:19:00.004-04:00

I figured I better post the twins' 20-month update before they turn five-years-old and flog me with their kindergarten lunchboxes because um, hello, somehow I was able to post their older sister's toddler updates on time, right?

(Sigh.)

Over the past month or so, both Luci and Nicholas have become insanely social. When we're out for a walk, at the gym's daycare, or anywhere else in public, they are both yelling (yes, yelling), "Hi!!!!" to everyone they see, and "Bye!!!" when we're leaving. Waves usually accompany the yelling.

Of course, everyone they meet tells me that this is the most adorable thing ever. I've taken it upon myself to invite each of these people over to my house for a day, because while the twins are (usually) well-behaved outside the house, at home, they continue to be screaming little hellcats. One of these months (and dear God, I hope it's soon), I will be able to tell you that the storm is over. That their personalities have mellowed. That non-stop screaming does not follow me around the house every minute we're home. Unfortunately, this is not that month.

This is Luci.

She is small and light as a feather. Her features are petite. She eats practically nothing. She appears sweet and charming. She still has only two teeth.

But Luci's personality and her appearance do not gel. She is incredibly stubborn, her favorite word is "no!", and if she wants you to hold her (and she does very, very often) and you cannot or will not, she will pitch an unholy fit the likes of which you have never seen from a toddler of her size. Feet-stomping, arm-waving, and piercing, pterodactyl-like shrieks are a three-times-an-hour occurrence around here. I see prison time in her future.

Listen to me, woman!

Luci loves pointing out bugs of all kinds ("Ant! Ant!"), snuggling, and channeling her inner Marlon Brando in "A Streetcar Named Desire" by calling her sister's name at full volume: "Bel-LA! Bel-LA!"

This is Nicholas.

In the past month, he has suddenly grown to look like a little boy instead of a baby. While he has a more mellow personality than does his sister, his favorite activity continues to be following me around the house screaming.

He loves books and reading, especially "Ciffor" (Clifford) books. He also loves watching people pretend to cry. He will come up to me and say, "Mommy, kai" (cry), and then when I pretend to weep, he laughs hysterically. He does this with everyone. My son is a sadist.

His vocabulary continues to explode. He's calling himself "Neko" (Nico) now, and while I was rocking him before bed the other night, he said, "Neko no go nigh nigh." He points to things and shouts out their names "Coop!" (soup), "burd!" (bird), and "Goose!" (which is what we call Luci) are among his favorites.

Nicholas has also started telling me when he has pooped, is obsessed with cars - "Nama's car!" (Grandma's car) - and enjoys climbing everything in sight.

There are some occasions with the twins that are incredible to watch. Given their "challenging" personalities, peeking through the cutout window in my kitchen and seeing this in the family room/play room is awesome.

They have begun to play with eachother for brief periods of time, and while 90% of the time their play consists of one stealing a toy from the other and the wronged party screaming, seeing this gives me hope that perhaps a more normal household existence is somewhere in the not-so-distant future.

Both twins are wearing 18 month clothing now, although Luci still wears quite a few 12 month size pieces too. They're in size 4 diapers and size 4 shoes.

Luci

Current Likes: A shoe-free state of being, baby dolls

Current Dislikes: Not getting her way, most vegetables

Nicholas

Current Likes: Snack-stealing from other kids at the gym daycare, going "bye-bye car"

Current Dislikes: Having me out of his line of vision, face-washing

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In other news, my half-marathon training had been going swimmingly until I injured myself. I lost both a week of training and my mind in the process of healing. I blogged about it on my health and wellness blog. Click over and check it out if you're so inclined.

Winner Announcement!

2010-06-18T13:54:00.002-04:00

I am happy to announce the winner of the Yoplait "Nourish Your Inner Goddess" giveaway. She is...

Meredith from Pregnantly Plump!

Thank you to everyone who entered, subscribed to my blogs, and told me how you (try to) relax. My health club offers some fantastic yoga classes, and I'm going to look into taking some.

Enjoy the weekend!

It's Another Giveaway

2010-06-15T20:26:00.009-04:00

It's an insanely busy week for me.

I have two new freelance projects rolling in, in addition to the two I'm currently working on AND my online classes.

I'm also getting used to the "summer schedule" around here, which involves a lot of shuttling children here, there, and everywhere-gym, camp, playdates, etc.-on different days than those on which these normally occur.

I have a bunch of blog topics all waiting as Drafts. One of these days, hopefully next week, I will get to them.

In the meantime, it's time for another giveaway!

A few months ago, on a recommendation from Stacey, I signed up for MyBlogSpark, which allows bloggers to review products and host giveaways. Cool, eh?

For my first giveaway, Yoplait provided me with two free coupons for Yoplait Greek yogurt, and a "Nourish Your Inner Goddess" gift pack via MyBlogSpark.

I never did get to try the yogurt. For some reason, it has yet to become available in my area. However, the description of the yogurt and the available flavors sound really great. We eat a lot of yogurt in my house, and when this shows up in my grocery store, I will certainly pick some up:

"With 12 grams of protein -- twice that found in leading yogurts-- new Yoplait Greek nourishes from the inside out. Available in four delicious flavors, Strawberry, Blueberry, Honey Vanilla and Plain, the brand´s newest offering has a unique thick and creamy texture with the unmatched taste expected of Yoplait."

However, while I didn't get to try the yogurt, I did receive the gift pack, and it's awesome.

The towel is huge and plush. It's the wrap-around kind, which secures with Velcro once you have it around you. In addition to the gift pack shown here, you'll also receive two coupons to try two cups of the yogurt for free. If you win, make sure you tell me how it tastes!

Here's how you can enter. You will receive one entry for each that you do. Also, please leave me a way to get in contact with you if I cannot do so via your blog.

1. Follow or subscribe to Interrupted Wanderlust (or tell me you already have).

2. Follow or subscribe to my health and wellness blog (or tell me you already have).

3. Leave me a comment that tells me how you like to relax and pamper yourself. I need ideas, people, as I am huge ball of mounting stress with no idea how to take care of my "inner goddess."

4. Post about this giveaway on your blog, and link back to this post.

I will use random.org to select a winner on Friday, June 18th.

Good luck!

And the Winner Is...

2010-06-11T15:07:00.005-04:00

The winner of the CafePress tshirt and tote bag is

Rebecca!

Thanks to everyone that entered, and congratulations, Rebecca. Send me an email with your address and your tshirt size, and Cafepress will send your shirt and bag to you.

My blog has suddenly become quite popular (apparently), and I have two more giveaways coming soon, so stay tuned.

Have a great weekend.

Light Housekeeping and Shameless Plugging

2010-06-10T14:01:00.002-04:00

Things have been a little more quiet over here than usual. I am finding it more difficult to blog as often as I want to with the quality of posts I want to write. I sometimes spend upwards of an hour writing a post, and with the insanity of my work schedule lately, well, that hasn't been happening as much as I wish it could.

BUT...

I have been blogging over here. My health and wellness blog for my health club has a growing readership, and exciting things might be happening with regard to the expansion and reach of the blog. I am hesitant to divulge too many details, less I jinx it, but it would really, really help me out if you would consider subscribing to the blog.

You can either "Follow" it through the Networked Blogs widget I have installed in the lower-right corner (just click the Follow button, and my posts will automatically show up in your Facebook news feed) or you can subscribe to the blog by clicking the Feedburner icon in the upper-right corner.

Also, please feel free to comment on my posts!

I've recently blogged about:

Why Kids Should Practice Yoga

Whether Nutritional Information Printed on Menus Will Change People's Restaurant Orders

And today's post, on Whether It's Possible to be Both Overweight and Healthy

And thank you SO much to those of you who have been reading and commenting. I really appreciate it.

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My tshirt and tote bag giveaway from CafePress ends tomorrow! Don't forget to enter if you haven't already. I received my shirt and bag earlier in the week, and the shirt is very comfortable and high-quality. If you run or know someone who does, I think you'll like it a lot.

The Last Day

2010-06-08T14:23:00.002-04:00

Today was Isabella's last day of preschool. From September until today, every Tuesday and every Thursday (with the exception of holidays and school breaks; she never missed a day due to illness), she attended the semi-cooperative preschool inside the Unitarian Church with this important sign on the outside.

The preschool is not affiliated with the church, but for years before Isabella was preschool age, I would drive by the building, and catch quick glimpses of students playing on the playground and think to myself that this is where I could see her going to school when the time came.

I knew nothing about the school then. Hadn't had a tour. Hadn't yet heard the effusive praise friends and acquaintances had for the school.

Within a five-mile radius of my home, there are probably 20 preschools. And yet I could not be happier with the one I chose for Isabella's first school experience.

Here she is on her first day of school last September. Her excitement level was off the charts.

And here she is this morning, before school.

In many ways beyond appearance, she is a different kid now than the one she was in September.

She is so much more confident in social situations and in public. She can almost write her entire name legibly ("S" and "B" are her problem letters). Her drawings and paintings have progressed from scribbles and brush strokes to identifiable objects and shapes. She adapted to the rhythm and structure of preschool life beautifully, and her teacher called her a "Mary Poppins child-perfect in every way" at her mid-year parent-teacher conference. I had a good laugh over that one because, hello? Come live at my house, teacher lady, and I think you may have a slightly different opinion of my daughter.

She did have a few days of tears during the transition to her third and final "homeroom" back in March. The school has three separate, themed rooms and each class spends 1/3 of the school year in each room, although they are free to visit the other two rooms daily. Her final "homeroom" is designed to allow kids more free-play (there is a slide/climber, huge wooden blocks, and play mats) and Isabella was completely in love with the easels, play-doh, and art projects set up each morning in the other two rooms, so she cried a few times as I was leaving, but her teacher assured me each time that the tears lasted no more than 30 seconds after I had left.

She didn't experience separation anxiety, she didn't contract the bubonic plague, and she certainly wasn't bored. Sorry to disappoint you, grandma.

I am so incredibly proud of her and how well she did in school this year. She had a wonderful class of kids. No bullies. No problems whatsoever. She bonded with an adorable little boy and he became her best preschool buddy. She developed an affection for his daddy, but perhaps the affection was really for him. Her teacher and the assistant teachers were kind and nurturing. The parents I chatted with every Tuesday and Thursday morning at drop-off became my friends, and some became my running buddies. I met even more great parents through the two committees on which I served. In a lot of ways, I'm sad that her year has ended, which sounds ridiculous. The experience has been great for both of us.

And now it's summer vacation. Isabella is attending a two-week camp at her preschool beginning next week. She's taking swimming lessons at my health club beginning at the end of June. She has an animal camp at the children's science museum in July, and a royalty camp (which I was assured was about castles, coats of arms, and great feasts and not princesses and tiaras) in August. We are hoping to take a trip to Sesame Place (have you been there?) in August as well.

In September, she starts attending the same preschool four afternoons a week. She's enrolled in their program for four-year-olds, which is designed to prepare students for kindergarten while still focusing on learning through play. I think she is going to love it. I will be on the preschool's board in the fall, co-chairing the Publicity committee.

One year from September, she'll get on a bus and head to kindergarten.

How is that even possible?

My First Giveaway

2010-06-04T14:08:00.007-04:00

I always like to follow up one of my regularly occurring bitchfests with a post that contains a bit more levity, so today I am super-excited to announce a giveaway.

CafePress recently contacted me and offered the opportunity to give away a t-shirt and a tote bag of my choice to one of you lovely people. CafePress offers unique and personalized gifts for friends and family.

It took me awhile to settle on a design that I liked simply because there were so many to choose from. I would have loved to create a unique design of my own using their easy-to-use designer tool, but I am ridiculously short on time these days, so I opted to go with something that I loved and that I hope you will enjoy too.

I know quite a few of you are runners or aspiring runners, so I am giving away a shirt and tote bag in this design:

Here's how you can enter to win your own t-shirt and tote bag. Please leave me a comment that tells me which of these you've done and I will give you one entry for each. Also, please leave me a way to get in contact with you if I cannot do so via your blog.

1. Follow or subscribe to Interrupted Wanderlust (or tell me you already have).

2. Follow or subscribe to my health and wellness blog (or tell me you already have).

3. Leave me a comment that tells me why you love to run.

4. Post about this giveaway on your blog, and link back to this post.

I will use random.org to select a winner on Friday, June 11th.

Good luck!

Unhappy Birthday

2010-06-01T14:19:00.000-04:00

Are you ready for the latest installment of the "You-Suck-as-a-Mother Chronicles," currently being written by almost every single member of my family?

(As a refresher, you might want to quickly scan my most recent post on this topic, in which I blew up at my aunt for three+ years of undermining me and my parenting decisions.)

My mother's 60th birthday party was on Saturday. The party was held at my grandma's. When my mom comes into town, she stays with Undermining Aunt, because I don't yet have a pull-out sofa for her to sleep on.

On Saturday morning she arrived early, so I could go for a run before we picked up my sister at the airport. When I got back home, I gave the kids baths. My mom was downstairs getting the twins ready. I was bathing Isabella, when we had the following conversation.

"Grammie gave me a really yummy treat while you were gone."

"That's nice, honey. What was it?"

"It was these little balls. They were all different colors-red, green, blue. They tasted like chocolate. I think it was cereal."

"Oh."

I was livid. Because despite the fact that my family has known for the past 3.5 years about the food choices I make for Isabella (and now for the twins), they continue to give me a great, big, giant F-You at every opportunity, by giving Isabella and sometimes L&N things behind my back of which I do not approve.

As many of you who read here regularly know, I feed my kids mainly organic foods. We don't do dessert except for special occasions. We limit food dyes as much as possible, we choose real over processed. We do very little traditionally defined "kids food." They drink milk and water as beverages 99% of the time. None of this is ambiguous. None of this is a secret.

My family knows this and they don't care, choosing instead to sneak Isabella sweets and other crap food behind my back because they feel I am "denying my children their childhoods" by trying to do something crazy like keep their bodies healthy and their teeth from falling out.

I went downstairs and began to prepare a snack for the babies. I calmly asked my mom if she had given Isabella a snack while I was running. She said no. I then said, "Really?" and she said, "Oh, I gave her a rice cake." I said, "Is that all?" She said yes.

Then I told her about the mysterious and colorful "cereal" that Isabella had mentioned in the bathtub.

"Oh, that was from (Undermining Aunt). It's organic! And gluten-free! (She clearly thought using these buzz words would garner my approval). I don't know what it is, but it was a free sample she got in the mail."

And I asked her why she had lied and said she didn't give her anything, and why she then gave her this Fruity Pebbles-sounding snack that apparently even she couldn't identify without telling me, and then lying to cover it up.

Big exasperated and angry sigh from mamacita. "Because I knew you wouldn't approve."

Then why the HELL would you do it?

I didn't say this to her, however. Instead, I very calmly and firmly told her to please stop giving Isabella foods of which she knows I will not approve. To please stop sneaking her "forbidden" foods behind my back. To stop undermining my role as a mother.

She got angry. Told me that we needed to have this conversation later. Said that is was over and done and that she wouldn't do it again. She did not want to talk about it. But she was clearly pissed at me for catching her in a lie, and for denying her what she believes is her god-given right to do with her grandchildren as she sees fit without regard for the way their parents are choosing to raise them.

Two hours later, I was putting the kids down for their naps. My mom put Luci in for her nap. I put Nico down for his. I went into Isabella's room and tucked her in and came downstairs. I heard my mom go into Isabella's room after closing Luci's door. Several minutes later, after my mom had come back downstairs, Isabella was calling me, something she does often during "naptime" to request water, a bathroom trip, or to get out of her room. I went up, opened her door, and saw her sitting up in bed eating something. I asked what she had, and she said that my mom had brought her crackers to eat, again, brought over from Undermining Aunt's house.

It had happened again, not two hours later, after she had told me she would stop sneaking Isabella food.

And this time, I was done. I had had it.

I went downstairs and we had it out. I asked her why she chose to again slip Isabella food behind my back (she had no real answer). I told her that she was sending horribly damaging messages to Isabella that it's okay to hide things from her parents and that she doesn't need to follow her parents' rules. That it's okay to disrespect her parents' authority because another adult, and one that she loves very much, says it's okay. That she was undermining everything about the way I'm raising Isabella to try and make good nutritional choices. This wasn't about the crackers. This was about her flagrantly lying to me not even two hours after she told me she wouldn't do it again.

She told me I was "damaging my kids" by restricting their foods. That "she is their grandmother" and has rights too. And that I should just send her an email instead of discussing this with her in person. She was pissed at me for having been caught again. I told her that trying to hide things from me was pointless, because Isabella always tells me everything anyway.

I finished by telling her the same things I've been telling her for almost four years now. She doesn't have to like my decisions. Doesn't even have to respect them. But she does have to abide by them and not undermine them.

And then she left. And when the kids woke up, I packed them up and went to my grandma's house for my mom's party.

Um, happy birthday?

There is a small part of me that just wants to give this up when my kids are around their relatives. To just let my family do whatever they want with my kids, feed them piles of crap food, sneak them treats every time they visit. My family has done a lot for me and for the kids, and they absolutely adore them (perhaps a little too much).

And yet I can't, because acquiescing is not in my blood. It's not how I'm wired. I don't compromise my beliefs. I hold these beliefs, after all, for a very good reason. And what good is having standards and principles if you compromise them when challenged?

But I am at a complete loss here. Nothing I seem to say or do to hammer home the point that the undermining must end seems to work. My grandma, Undermining Aunt, and my mom have this incredible sense of entitlement where my children are concerned. In their eyes, I am doing a horrible job raising them (this, mind you, they infer in practically the same breath with which they tell what a special, well-mannered, sensitive, and intelligent daughter I have..,which clearly has nothing at all to do with me) and believe it is up to them to "save" my children from a life of deprivation.

Any and all suggestions are appreciated because seriously, I am up against it here, and much as I love them for the close relationship we all have, I am about one more incident away from packing up my kids and the hubs and moving out of driving distance.

Of course, the weekend's happenings were not without humor. Undermining Aunt has been chomping at the bit to have me drop off Isabella at her house for the day. (As if.) This topic comes up time and time again, and now my mom is even in on the crusade, bringing it up this weekend, and then asking me, "Do you have any concerns about this?" (quite obviously in response to the fact that I haven't taken Isabella over to Undermining Aunt's house yet). Not wanting to get into it, I said no.

But of course, it will be a cold day in hell before this happens.
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Because in addition to being a complainer, I am also a giver, I will leave you with this recommendation for a blog you should be reading.

Check out Spoonfed, which is written by my new friend, Chris. If you're at all interested in helping your kids to make smart choices about food, damaging them beyond measure, or denying them their childhoods by reserving sweets for special occasions (as I am), I think you'll like it.

Isabella at 3 Years, 9 Months

2010-05-30T21:50:00.004-04:00

With the exception of the "Great Lovie Loss of 2010," it's been a good month for Isabella.

Last weekend, while I ran a 10K, she and the hubs camped out at the house of one of my friends who lived on the route. Her kids and Isabella ran a water table for the runners, and Isabella had a blast filling cups and passing them out to the runners. I was told later on that she especially liked it when the runners would dump the water over their heads.

Also last weekend, Isabella and I and two of her friends and their moms went to see two plays at a local college: The Runaway Bunny and Goodnight Moon, which were put on by the traveling theatre group from The Mermaid Theatre of Nova Scotia. Both were fantastic plays, very well-done, and if you're anywhere near St. Paul, MN, (the company's last stop on the tour) I would highly recommend you check out this show in June. We had a great time with her two buddies and their moms, and we even were able to meet the "animals" after the show, which was a big deal for Isabella, since Goodnight Moon has long been her favorite book, and the theme of her first birthday party too.

Here she is doing her best Olan Mills photo shoot pose before the play.

And with the "young mouse" from Goodnight Moon.

She is getting better at writing her name, but most of the time she flat-out refuses to even try writing the "s." She can, however, figure out the letter that most words start with, and can often be heard walking around the house looking at things and saying, for example, "d-d-desk, starts with "D"!

Her first year at preschool is winding down in a about a week and a half, and while I know she will miss her teachers and her friends, I think she may miss the father of one of her classmates most of all. Isabella has developed her first crush.

One day a few weeks ago, she was eating lunch after coming home from preschool and out of nowhere she said, "I love Keegan's daddy. I think about him every day."

Umm... yeah, I am not ready for this. My daughter clearly has a thing for older men.

I asked her why and she said, "He's a nice Daddy. And Keegan brings Thomas the Train books to school!"

I thought it was perhaps a conflation of ideas in her little mind: Keegan + Keegan's Daddy = Thomas, but a few nights later, as I reminded her that she had preschool in the morning, she said, "I'm so excited I get to see Keegan's Daddy!"

Oy vey.

The Tiny Dictator has been getting up at the crack of dawn (anywhere from 6am-6:30) and this is putting a huge cramp into the way I normally start my day (caffeine and work), but the upside to this is that she's begun taking naps (usually) on the days she's up this early, which sure as hell beats her calling me 52,000 times during naptime, asking me if she can come downstairs yet.

She continues to be a great big sister to the twins, but I've noticed her taking on the "mommy role" with them a lot. This works both ways. She is in one minute sweet and gentle with them, taking them by the hand to play with a toy or read books...

And in the next minute, she's screeching that they're pulling her hair, biting her, or playing with a toy that Surprise! all of a sudden she wants to play with, after having ignored it for months. She also shouts "Bad! Bad!" at them a lot, which is odd because that's not something I ever say to them (I stick with "Shut the f-up, you annoying little sh*t"), so I'm uncertain where that's coming from.

One of her favorite tasks is cleaning with Luci. She loves to tell everyone and anyone about the time she and Luci cleaned up the whole dining room area all by themselves. I heaped lavish praise on her for that one, so hopefully her desire to help continues.

It looks like the birthday theme this year is going to be dinosaurs. Aunt Karrie will be painting another masterpiece like this, this, and this with a dinosaur theme, and probably including a few of her favorites from Dinosaur Train.

In just two months, my baby is turning 4.

Current Likes: Negotiating things to death, flashlights, puzzles

Current Dislikes: Waiting, Luci wearing her old clothes, the letter "S"

Bear Gone Missing

2010-05-24T20:23:00.003-04:00

At some point on Saturday, Isabella's best buddy, Charlie the bear, went missing.

This is Charlie. He has been in Isabella's crib since the day we took her home from the hospital almost four years ago. He has spent every nap tucked under her arm. She often sleeps with him draped over her head. She kisses him goodbye before she heads out the door to preschool. She wheels him around in her stroller. She teaches him in her imaginary classroom in our living room.

Isabella, the twins, and I had gone on a walk around 11am. Isabella was riding her bike. She had taken armfuls of crap with her on the ride: jewelry, her binoculars, a flashlight, a canteen...and Charlie. She placed all of these things in her bike bag, which fits over her handlebars.

Usually, I place Charlie in her bike bag. This is because he just barely fits in the bag, and I almost always secure his front paws inside the bag, so that he has less of a chance of falling out.

But on Saturday, I didn't. The twins had spent the morning screaming, and a change of scenery was desperately needed, so we decided to go on a bike ride. I was busy loading the twins into their stroller, while Isabella stashed her things, including Charlie, in her bike bag. I strapped on her helmet, and we took our usual route around the neighborhood.

We stopped twice along the way: once to chat with a friend and her kids, and once so I could place a quarter I found on the ground inside her bag. We came home, gave the kids lunch, got them down for naps (or quiet time, in Isabella's case), and right afterward we left for a party at our friends' house.

We returned home at bedtime. Usually, Charlie is lying around in one of his usual spots: the kitchen counter, the sofa in the living room. On top of the gate at the bottom of the stairs. But we could not find him anywhere. We got the twins in bed, and then spent a good half an hour scouring the house for Charlie.

Once it became apparent that Charlie was not going to materialize anytime soon, I realized I needed to get Isabella to bed. She was already up way past her bedtime.

"Would you like to choose another friend to sleep with you tonight?"

"I only want Charlie!"

"Sometimes it's nice to cuddle with another buddy."

"I want Charlie!"

And then the great, heaving sobs started. Huge, from-the-belly sobs, which quite literally broke my heart.

"Where's Charlie????"

"I love Charlie and he loves me!"

"Charlie's looking for me!"

"Did someone take him?"

Both the hubs and I began to suspect that Charlie had fallen out of her bike bag during the walk, although I felt I would have noticed this if it had happen, because Isabella is always in front of me while on bike rides. So, just before we attempted to get her into bed, I ran our bike route, desperately scanning lawns and gutters to see if I could locate him.

When I returned home empty-handed, things took a turn for the worse. Isabella was borderline hysterical. She was in bed, but had no intention of sleeping. She had been up since 6:30am, and hadn't had a nap. She was exhausted. I climbed into bed with her. She cried quietly while I stroked her hair. She fell asleep with her body curled into my chest.

I extracted myself from her bed without disturbing her, went downstairs, and began scouring the Internet for Charlie replacements. The hubs took a flashlight and did his best peeping tom imitation, as he walked our bike route looking for Charlie. He wasn't out there. I immediately emailed our neighborhood's Yahoo group to alert the neighbors to keep an eye out for him.

I IM-ed the incredible Stacey, who had gone through a similar ordeal with her son's beloved "Harry" about a year ago, to ask for pointers as to how to deal with Isabella's deep sadness over her loss. She spent over an hour helping me search for replacement Charlies. We compared fur patterns, mouth and nose shapes, "old-style" Gund bears versus "new-style." She gave me some great tips: put up flyers, post on Facebook about finding a new Charlie, spread the word far and wide to see if anyone could help. She dropped whatever she was doing late on a Saturday night to help me. For this, I will always be grateful. Thank you, Stacey.

It was nearing midnight. The hubs and I were literally sick to our stomachs over this loss. I hadn't eaten dinner. I had to get up at 6am to run a 10K yesterday morning. We were exhausted and despondent. Charlie was just a stuffed bear, but he was everything to Isabella. If we couldn't find him, or convince her to accept a replacement, which, hey, had been returned to us bathed and looking brand new!, we would be wrecked.

The hubs was picking up toys in the dining room. He opened up Isabella's Thomas the Train puzzle box to pack away the puzzle she had put together earlier that day.

Inside was Charlie.

I was so happy I started crying. I grabbed Charlie, tip-toed upstairs and into Isabella's room, and placed him on her pillow. The next morning when she woke up, I went into her room as I always do, and she sat up with a huge smile on her face and Charlie in her arms.

"Mommy, while I was sleeping, I felt a little bit of fur, and it was Charlie! So I hugged him under my arm and went back to sleep."

Parents watch their children suffer through unimaginable horrors much worse than the loss of a stuffed animal. Isabella is a healthy, happy little girl, and I am thankful beyond measure for this.

But oh my god, it was literally killing me inside to watch her go through the emotions associated with losing Charlie.

I hope it's a long, long time before we have to head down a path like this again.