Kid Updates

Slowly but surely, the Terrible Twos are coming on. We get "no!" a lot, sometimes jokingly, sometimes in-your-dreams. There's hitting, grabbing, refusals, tantrums, "I want that!" and of course the nap-diaper-removal thing. Word is that it'll get worse over the next few months, then start to taper off as we all "agree" on limits of behavior. It won't be fun, but we've spent a lot of effort to have tools at our disposal. Some of them even work:

Counting to ten (or five) works well. We do it for a lot of general discipline things, like the amount of time they have to get a book at nap/bedtime, stir a pot while "helping" cook, brush their teeth before we help, and so on. There are also a lot of ad hoc time where we'll pull it out to refocus them and hopefully transition to, say, taking turns with whatever. Another plus is that they've both learned to (sometimes) count to ten without our help. They've started to do this when they want a turn, which is hilarious.

We don't do time outs often, which is good, because I wouldn't want them to lose their effectiveness. The rule is that they have to sit on the stairs until they're "ready to be nice," which allows them to define "nice" (which we often veto). A lot of times, they've rejoined the rest of us in less than a minute, already pleasant.

They'll usually be okay if we warn them that a certain activity (like being at the park) will end in n minutes or we can do it x more times (like going down the slide). The first one's especially nice because they don't understand lengths of time at all yet, so we can say "ten minutes!" and pack it up in two, or vice versa.

I used to be a teacher. Liss is a teacher. We both have "the look."

Neither of us gets mad very easily, so when we do, they know it. They don't really get it yet, but they'll learn.

And as an aside, it's hard not to laugh when they get mad at a reprimand and slooooowly move their hand to again do whatever they got reprimanded for.

Some parents tell us it's the Threes that are really bad. We'll cross that bridge ...

Sometimes I wonder what the boys' earliest memories will be.

The boys can throw like champs, but they can't catch for shit.

We had lots of conversations about television and other "screen time" even before the boys were born. They like seeing pictures and videos on our computers and cameras and the like, but it's not the obsession we feared it might be, and they haven't asked for the TV to be on in months. Part of it is that we know them well enough not to show children's programs that we might hate; we've heard far too many stories of Barney or Teletubbies or whatnot over the years from exasperated parents. When I pop in a movie to calm them down for a while (about once a month), it's always something I think I wouldn't mind their getting obsessed over, whether it's a cartoon (Iron Giant, Up!) or a musical (The Sound of Music, Hairspray). While they seem to like them, they don't request them again later, and their attention is never held for the duration of the movie.

All of this is great, with the caveat that it also means that we're their "TV." They don't have the attention span to just sit and play quietly yet, so we end up taking them to lots of places, or playing outside (while we still can), or letting them run back and forth, or jump on me, etc. They don't really play "together" yet. We're their playthings, which we've encouraged, especially now that they're so talkative, though it's also a big part of our constant exhaustion. Given the possible alteratives, though - such as indifference to us in favor of endless Elmo - we'll take it.

We live so far north that mid-summer means the sunlight doesn't go away until after 10pm. It's getting close enough to the equinox now that it won't be long before it's dark before we put the boys to bed (at 7) - after turning the clocks back, it's dark before we get home from work.

None of this really matters yet for our sleep, because of our fabulous blackout curtains. However, I expect that next summer, the boys will protest being put to bed while it's still light out. (It's entirely possible that their bedtime will be later by then, but certainly not 10). It's going to take great exertion on my part to not make a deal with them around this time next year that goes something like "Okay, boys, you win; your bedtime is now sunset" and watch - with stifled glee - their increasing horror as their bedtime gets earlier every day.

Ever since I instituted the rule of thumb that Ellen not sleep or eat within two hours of her bedtime, she's been pretty easy to put down. I haven't had to use the bathroom sink as white noise on her for weeks, which was starting to lose its effectiveness anyway.

The only real issue is that she recognizes that my carrying her upstairs means bedtime, and she doesn't like it. With the bottle, she goes from screaming baby to sleepy baby, leaving me no merely-calm-baby window where I can read to her. Maybe we'll have to ask our nanny to do it when the boys are napping.

Someday the boys will stop fighting over whatever one of them happens to start playing with. Or eating. Or reading. But it doesn't look like it'll happen anytime soon. When I got home last night, I spent 20 minutes alternating which twin was setting the microwave timer to 2 minutes while his brother played with the purple guitar, after which it would be his turn to play with it, and his brother would set the timer, and so on. Otherwise, they'd just yell "Bobby turn!" "Doobie turn!" in a seemingly infinite but increasingly loud loop.

Their being physically identical probably exacerbates the issue. Older siblings can use their superior strength and cunning, or at least grab and run away faster. When these boys get to actually fighting, I don't know if there could ever be a winner. We'll just all lose.

We probably say this at least once a day: it's a good thing they're cute.

My fourth annual NFL pool is open. Please spread the word if you know someone(s) looking for an outlet that's a little different than most.

One of the great advantages of programming is that if it's done with flexibility in mind from the start, doing its business again is usually just a matter of dropping in the new data (in this case, the schedule). I wrote most of the NFL pool before the boys were born, and have done very little to it since. With the same kind of low-maintenance thought ahead of time, keeping the scores and such updated is also very simple, so actually running it is pretty easy, too.

That's good, because there's no way I'm going to be able to do major work on the hard parts of the site anytime soon - which is sad in its way, because I have lots of ideas. The same goes for writing music. The kind of "in the zone" such creative efforts require means more than just "take the kids to the zoo" blocks of time. We're talking "take the kids to summer camp."

Liss mailed me from her first day back at work:

I'd never want to be a SAHM forever, but even with the poop and snot and "no" and two, I'd much rather be there than here.

It'll get better when school actually starts, right?

From Liss, beginning last Friday:

This is going to tarnish your image of my beautiful, brilliant, charming children. Tough shit, they deserve it. Perhaps they can win their way back into your good graces--OR MINE--another day. Most of you should probably stop reading now, because this is going to be gross.

We've had some ... issues lately with the boys taking their diapers off during naptime. At first it wasn't such a big deal because they'd poop and then take their diapers off and the poop would stay contained and whatever, I don't want to sit in my own shit either. I almost saw it as a positive step because it showed they were aware they'd pooped and wanted to do something about it. Especially when last weekend also saw them actually starting to use their potties too. Every day before naptime, we all chant: "Don't take diapers OFF, keep diapers ON."

But Thursday, Bobby pooped and then flung. Fortunately, it landed on one of their books that I hate, so I just threw it away. I made him sit in his crib until I was all done cleaning up, and I told him it makes me sad and mad when he makes a mess, and it makes me happy when he keeps his diaper on. They're starting to understand "sad" and "mad" and "happy." Honestly? Times like this make me understand why parents would spank little kids. Maybe this will help you understand. But we don't.

Yesterday, I took them on a morning ~~death march~~ hike so they'd be extra-tired at naptime. I fed them only low-fiber foods. Then after our chanting, I said, "If you poop, you just yell, 'MAMA, BOBBY POOPED' and I'll come help you."^(*) I made them practice saying that a couple of times. And I made them wear pants to nap in, where they prefer diapers + shirts.

So.

You can guess, but you don't want to. Oh, it was bad. They had both gotten their pants off, a feat since my mom took in the waistbands last weekend. Drew had pooped and removed his diaper. Most of it was contained, but when he sat up, he'd smeared it a bit on the sheet. He was sitting in his crib, legs hanging down through the slats and peeing on the floor. Bobby? Had decided poop = Play Doh. It was crusted on his hands, spread on the crib railing and the sheets and the wall, wiped on his ear, little bits in his hair. Plus some on the floor--not on Humpety Trumpety but on the light beige carpet.

And, AND? He didn't want me to clean him up. He sobbed the whole time I was scrubbing him down, yelling, "ALL DONE" and trying to wiggle free. But, you know? This isn't an area on which I'm willing to compromise. A little snot on your cheek, overgrown hair, strawberry stains down your shirt, mismatched shoes? Whatever. There will not be a single speck of poop anywhere outside the toilet, potties and diaper bin. Ever.

It took almost an hour to clean up. Ellen laid on the futon, examined her binky and cooed the entire time. Thank God for Ellen. And thank God for James, who has taken the boys off on excursion this morning and left me alone with a napping baby. I think they're going to pick up some duct tape.

^(*) I told them the same thing that night without her telling me she'd already thought of it. Great minds, I guess.

And from Saturday:

But wait! Then today after lunch and just before naptime, both boys used their potties for the intended purpose. Perfect, we thought, no need to tape; let's see what happens.

What happened was, after we read stories and drank milk, James sat in there for 15 minutes with them while they settled. Three minutes after he left, the giggling started. He went in to find both diapers off, Drew having pooped and Bob having wet through the sheet.

We won't make that mistake again. He put on fresh diapers and wrapped the tape all the way around. Took a picture to show their future love interests.

And Sunday:

The males in our household are all sick. Bobby started a week ago with a runny nose. Drew caught that and has also done some impressive vomiting (including ohgod in the car seat on the way back from the zoo today, where Amy and I'd taken them all to give James some rest). James stayed home from work Tuesday with a sore throat, stuffy nose, and general sickiness; he improved a bit toward the end of the week, but it's back with a vengeance^(*). They've all been droopy and cranky and exhausted.

I've had nothing. Credit my over-active immune system: I may have lupus, I may have arthritis, but I almost never get infectious diseases. Good thing, 'cause I don't even want to think how it would be if we were all sick.

Ellen has had nothing. She's as healthy and cheerful as ever. James brought it up this afternoon: "Must be all that breast milk."

... Huh. Maybe, maybe not, but it was the exact right thing to say. I knew I loved that guy.

^(*) We didn't know it was the new strep infection until Monday morning.

While I was holed up sick in bed, the boys would sometimes visit. Upon conclusion, Bobby would ask me "close door?," to which I'd say yes, and he'd close it behind him on the way out. I prefer to think of it as a nice gesture, rather than "closing doors is fun!," which is backed up by his relatively somber tone.

It's been an interesting week, in the Chinese proverb sense of the word.

First, the good. The boys have taken to the potty in a big way. We haven't had to set up a reward system or anything (stars! treats!) beyond praise. They just do it. With that is the longest sentence I've heard yet: "Bobby take diaper off poop potty?" Yes, they ask permission before taking their diapers off, except ...

The bad. They think it's hilarious to remove their diapers at naptime and fling the results all over the room. We now duct tape their diapers shut at naptime. Yes, there will be pictures (of the duct taping, not the poop). We'll let them try restraint again on the weekends until they get it right. It seems that if it happens, it happens as soon as they're alone, so we can catch them "red" handed.

Finally, the ugly. First Bobby was sick, giving it to Drew and myself, though Bobby and I got better after a couple of days. Drew's still coughing, and mine came back hard. However, mine wasn't the same cold, it was strep throat that just felt similar, as a 4:30am trip to the hospital found. So Liss took them to their doctor who said ... no, Drew doesn't have strep. Huh. So, it's just a bad cold that's made him projectile vomit a couple of times - once in the car. And there's been a lot of snot. Fortunately, the ladies of the house have shown no signs of contracting either ailment.

And more good, Ellen is starting to learn how to use her hands, discovering her feet, and by virtue of being easier than either twin was at five months, feels like the most low-maintenance baby ever.

We'll need to figure out how to get the boys to potty outside the house, and maybe transition them to pull-ups, but those can wait a little bit. It's only been a week.

The boys' four-month sleep regression lasted two and a half months.

Ellen's lasted four days.

August 21st+

All of our hand-wringing over when and how to wean the boys off binkies may have been for naught. They appear to be losing interest in them.

Drewbie over-exerted himself outside this evening, as he wasn't completely over his cold yet, and barfed up his dinner and possibly lunch. The topper was his guilty look; we had to assure him that it was okay.

On the plus side, this cold has afforded us the opportunity to teach them to cough into their sleeves, for which by now they only need a little reminding. It's very cute, but then again, so is just about everything they do ... except maybe barfing.

From Liss:

On Tuesday, I return to work full-time. How is this possible? How is this even legal? For the most part, the summer's been much easier and more fun than I expected. Sure, there are tantrums after most naps and the boys insist on pizza for lunch every single day, but it's also fun to play with them, talk to them, take them on adventures to the beach, the Museum of Flight, a boat ride. They're making progress with the potty. They loved preschool, though today was their last day. They've gone from 2-word to 4-word sentences seemingly overnight. One favorite from yesterday (they have colds): "Drewbie needs medicine mouth." A reasonable argument. Of course, today it was "Bobby flush Drewbie's poop," "No, Drewbie flush Drewbie's poop!" which is such an irritating argument to referee, but still: Language! Good! And while they nap I play with Ellen, who is a delight of a baby: patient with her demanding brothers, quick to smile or laugh, still sleeping pretty well despite "regressing" away from 11-hour nights.

We've had a fun but exhausting string of relative visits this month. It's been lovely, but it'll be nice to have some time to ourselves. Now as the days get cooler and I settle back into work, I hope I'll also find more time for myself (walking to work 3 days a week is my goal: expensive, but it'll help me fit into my old clothes and give me time to think) and more time to write.

Two days after his brother, Bobby pooped in the little potty.

It doesn't quite have the same feeling at the Apollo 12 landing, but it doesn't help that I wasn't there to see it.

Some word amusements:

Toenails are "toesnails." Bobby has "red toesnails," Drew and Daddy white, and Momma blue, currently.
When they ask for help, it's usually for "helpyou." As in, we've often said "Can I help you?"
Liss once mocked them by saying "carry" as "carry-arry-arry," and now that's how they say it.

Liss jokes that the boys are pleasant 90% of the time - Drew 95 and Bobby 85.

I'm hoping the boys take to football this year. It would certainly be convenient, since it will be on the television a lot.

Liss's cousin is getting married on Thanksgiving weekend on the opposite coast. We've all been trying to figure out the logistics of getting her out there, as it's unrealistic that all five of us should go. At first the idea was to have her take the red-eye and come back about 36 hours later, but there are advantages to another plan - she take daytime flights and take Ellen with her. Besides relieving the stress of two days with the kids by myself on a holiday weekend, she wins points by introducing the baby to the family. The trade-off is the two six-hour flights with an eight-month-old, and having her in tow around the wedding, but she's been promised help.

Honestly, I would have been fine with the three of them for a couple of days, but this works out much better for me. I figure I can take care of the boys on my own pretty much indefinitely without much stress. Sure, they (we) won't eat as well, and they (we) may do and learn things Liss doesn't want to come home to, but I think this is a good middle ground.

A month ago, three-word sentences were pretty rare. Now, four-word sentences are common.

Bobby has a cold, which means he's a snot machine. Fortunately he's now okay with us putting a tissue to his nose and having him blow. It's much easier and less invasive than the nose bulb, not to mention more sanitary. However, if we're not on the ball, he ends up with a lot on his hands and cheeks from wiping. Generally speaking, we're not on the ball.

The real fun came at our bedtime, though. We can tell the difference between whining or bored crying versus "No, I really need help" crying, and he was doing that. It turns out that he'd pooped in his diaper, which they don't normally do overnight. I took him downstairs to change him, and it was definitely the product of his being sick. They'd had fruit just a few hours before, and his diaper was filled with little unchewed pieces of apple skin - maybe two dozen the size of your thumbnails.

The thing I've found when helping them at night is that they're very sweet. He listened when I talked to him and said my plan - clean him, new diaper, medicine, crib, water. He sat patiently while I brushed my teeth and drank my own water (part of my bedtime routine). He wanted to say good night to Momma again before going back to bed. And so on.

I wasn't sure how much Benadryl to give him, so Liss looked it up - 5mL. Now, that's double what it was for an infant, which seemed a lot at the time, but this was one step short of just pouring it down his throat. But, as part of the sweet-boy thing, he sucked it down like a champ. Of course, Benadryl doesn't cure colds; the idea was to knock him out so he (and I) could sleep.

Around 4 he was coughing enough that I went in to check on him. His water cup was mostly full, and he didn't seem to want to drink any despite my entreaties. What can you do? I had an answer - I turned down the monitor.

Mark it - on Sunday, August 20th, Drew pooped in one of the little potties. The story itself is pretty funny, if a little gross.

It's common now for them to ask to sit on the potty between diaper changes, which we're happy to oblige. This time I went in with him and sat on the [closed] regular toilet to keep him company and encourage. A few minutes in, he stood halfway up and looked under his own legs - quite the flexible boy there - and watched himself.

Of course, we showered praise upon him, which he echoed. "Doo-bie. Poop. Potty!"

Bobby took notice, and got jealous; he went and sat on the same seat, and said "Bobby. Poop. Potty!" Nice try, kid.

Completing the procedure, I took off the potty's detachable bowl and dumped^(*) it into the toilet, which he flushed, and I wiped him. However, a few minutes later, he came back and deposited one of those little follow-up poops, then tried to take the bowl to the toilet himself. It would have worked if it hadn't been so sticky, so I had to help him with it. More praise.

Now, we're not sure how this happened, but around that time, Liss saw Bobby in the dining room ... holding some poop. She thought he'd stolen Drew's to claim as his own, but I'd accounted for what Drew had produced in the bathroom, so ... it's a mystery. And it can stay that way. Either way, I suspect Bobby will repeat Drew's feat soon, if for no other reason than jealousy at the positive attention.

While I'm not obsessive enough to have taken pictures of the event or its evidence, this perfectly safe picture from the annals^(*) of the Internet should decently express the mood around the house at the time.

Still no pee, which I'm actually more worried about, since that goes out instead of down.

^(*) No pun intended. Well, maybe a little bit.

August 14th+

"Bobby ... time ... out."

"You don't need to gloat, Drew."

Liss's luck ran out with the whole "pooped and took off diaper during naptime, but it wasn't messy" thing. I came home to new sheets in their cribs.

My new public transit commute has allowed me more reading time, which I've firstly used to read Pride and Prejudice. Reading tends to make me want, for a time, to speak and write like that which I've read, but as Jane Austen's writing style is of her time and thusly more florid than we would consider the norm of contemporary prose, I must endeavor to refrain from those illucid tidings that might disengage otherwise rapturous readers.

E-mail from Liss, titled "Pride and Joy":

Bob: Booger!
Me: I'll get you a tissue after I change Ellen's diaper.
Bob: Booger! Finger!
Me: Just let me clean up this poop and I'll help you.
Bob: Booger! Booger!
(ignoring, ignoring)
Bob: Boooogeeeeerr!
(silence)
Bob: Mouth!

This is all part of a new thing whereby we're trying to ignore repeated statements after explaining our response.

We're pretty sure Ellen's started her sleep regression.

Woo.

I'm going to start endeavoring to use the first and second persons with the boys more, i.e. "I'm going to work" instead of "Daddy's going to work," and replying "Yes, you pooped" instead of "Yes, Drewbie pooped" (hey, go with what they know). They're already starting to grasp it, so it's time to reinforce it.

There's a not-unrealistic chance that Liss's teacher's union will strike soon.

I've called it a rule of thumb rather than a rule, but I don't want Ellen to be asleep after 4:30 or fed after 5. When I put her down at 6:30, she needs to be at least a little tired and hungry, or the process is a long scream-fest (her, not me). Liss is on board - she can hear it all - but we need to make sure the nanny follows through. Right now she's only here a few hours a week, but when Liss starts school again in a week-ish, she'll be the keeper of the routines.

We don't mind the idea of all three kids sharing our bed during scary or hot nights (our wind storms can get pretty noisy), but it's only a double, and we don't like it all that much anyway. It's a little hot and the springs make enough noise that we sometimes wake each other up after a nighttime excursion.

I floated the idea of upgrading to a queen, but after saying a queen would be too big just a couple of years ago, Liss said why not go ahead and get a king? With five of us plus the cat ...

I've looked into Tempurpedic and the like, but I just think it'd be too hot for me, of which my skin is very sensitive. Perhaps the next "what if" idea would be a nice firm waterbed.

In an effort to get into air conditioning and eat dinner, we went to the Rainforest Cafe for the first time, so we didn't really know what to expect. It's one of those places that sells its environment as much as its food.

It turns out it's just too much for the boys to handle just yet. Every once in a while animatronic monkeys growl and move, or there's some fake lightning and thunder, or water drips from the ceiling, and so on. For the monkeys and storms, they'd get out of their seats and climb into my lap, burying their faces into my chest (which I have to admit I find very endearing). Besides "all done!," their way of trying to get out of it was to ask to go look at the fish, again, because that area was calm, or to ask to go back to the car. After a little while we had to ask to move to "a more boring table," which ironically was right next to the bar.

In two more years they'll be begging to go, just as Ellen reaches the age where she'll get freaked out by all the stimuli.

We went to our favorite ice cream joint this weekend. At some point, Drew decided it would be a good idea to:

Dispense a little water in a cup at the cooler in the corner.
Walk over to the trash ten feet away.
Pour the water into the trash can.
Take the cup back to the water cooler.
Repeat.

After a few circuits, I had to tell him that water doesn't go in the trash can, and he lost it. He's been losing it a lot lately, as he comes up with these creative ideas on which we can't let him follow through.

I used my Mom's camera to make some video (of the circuit, not the meltdown) so I'll post it if I can.

Seattle is going through a hot spell, with a few days of highs in the low 90s. Laugh if you must, but when it's 88 inside the house at bedtime, it's kind of hard to expect your kids to sleep well. Last year we tried having the boys sleep in our room (with its window A/C unit) during similar heat, which was a total fiasco.

To compensate, I've been putting Ellen to sleep in our room. Besides the cooler air, its white noise helps the process. The hard part is transporting her to her room and bed, which I've already bungled once.

The boys seem to be fine with the heat, choosing to wear their sleepers even though we'd offer diaper-only arrangements (despite the removal risk). However, Bobby started crying at 4:30 Sunday morning, to which I went in and offered him water. His whispering "wa ... ter" answer was straight out of the crawling-through-the-desert cliché. I brought some for both him and Drew, which they both slurped down before easily going back to sleep. I know this because his "Daddy ... sit" was equally pathetic, so I stayed with them for a bit before retreating back to the A/C.

Ellen, meanwhile, is so chunky that she sweats easily, so whenever Liss tends to her at night, she's in her own pool. There comes a break point where an open window is better than not, so she has to attune to that.

This is supposed to end tomorrow or the next day, so hopefully that's the last of our real summer heat. In another year (maybe two), the boys will understand things better and maybe sleep in our rooms without incident, but I think I thought the same thing last year.

Sometimes - often enough that it's not a coincidence - you can put a binky in Ellen's hand, and she'll get it up to her mouth.

An obvious couple of signs in the update below mean that it's time to start potty training for real. They've taken to the little green potties, so I've ordered another pair for the upstairs bathroom.

My Mom and step-dad were here this weekend, and didn't know about not putting toilet paper on the roll, as the boys will happily unroll the whole thing. Instead, though, Drew sat on the little potty with no diaper for a few minutes with no one else in the room, then started walking over to the TP, taking a few sheets off, walking back and putting in the potty, walking back for more TP, etc.

We need to find a reward system they'll buy into. Stickers? Gold stars? I have no idea what might work with them.

Lots of little-to-moderate changes with the boys just this week or so:

Drew has the strength to flush a toilet. Bobby isn't far behind; he can get that initial spritz.
They can remove their pants, then diapers. They both did this during their weekend naps. In each case, one of them had pooped first, though not messily. Sunday, I told them point blank not to do it anymore; let's see if it, uh, sticks. Yeah, yeah, keep laughing. I'm not optimistic, but we might buy some time by putting them on backwards before breaking out the duct tape.
As they both lie or sit down, Bobby "pushes" Drew with his feet. Drew asks him to stop. He doesn't. Bobby gets time out. Drew has successfully tattled.
Drew can climb into our bed without help. He uses the frame or gap between mattress and box spring as a step.
They can reach the light switch at the bottom of the stairs. I guess in their world, 100 times isn't enough experimental data.
They can close a door from the outside (i.e. by pulling instead of pushing).
This morning Drew walked backwards around the kitchen "loop" for no apparent reason.
Bobby's learned the concept of not having done something, i.e. "Bobby not poop" when changing his diaper.

August 7th+

Last night I got home a few minutes earlier than usual; I walked in on Liss getting the boys ready to come out to run to greet me. Drew freakin' lost it, just like Wednesday. However, this time I refused to walk all the way back so he could do it, because I didn't want to set that precedent (again). It's just not viable. But when the timing is right and it does happen, it's pretty awesome.

There are a couple of things I heard over the years about language development that stuck with me for no real reason. One is that you're not supposed to correct pronunciation when a toddler just doesn't know how to produce a certain sound yet - such as when they're trying to say "three" but say "free" instead. As far as they're concerned, they know what they meant and said it correctly, and think you should think so too, and just know that the "th" sound will come in time. The boys still have a lot of these phonetic gaps.

The other example was "Would you like an apple?" Later, the kid might say something like "May I have another napple?" They haven't discerned the difference between a/an before a consonant/vowel. For that one, correction should be indirect, with something like a simple "Yes, you may have another apple."

Drew's name isn't "Drew," it's "Drewbie" - at least, that's what both boys call him. We alternate a lot among that, "Drew," and "Andrew," but they stick to that one when they talk. (Of course, it still sounds like "Doo-bie.")

The boys have started taking vitamins. They're the sweetened children's kind, so Liss came up with a brilliant plan. They're not "allowed" to have their vitamins until they're out of their sleepers and dressed for the day.

One of the twins might have corrected us for the first time upon hearing us call him by the other's name. Liss called Bob "Drew," and almost immediately, in what might have been an indignant voice, he said "Bobby!"

The boys like spotting me coming home from work and running toward me, which I also heartily enjoy. Today, however, they didn't see me until I was almost to the door. This upset Drew so much that I had to walk back almost to the origin point of that picture so that he could run to "greet" me.

It's difficult to ride out hearing "Daddy! Come! Back!" on the monitor after leaving them at bedtime.

And then "Daddy! Op[en]! Door!" in the morning.

From Liss, perhaps their first interpersonal argument. Yay.

(pushing/grabbing/yelling at each other for the Most Favored Milk Cup)
B: Mine's milk!
D: That milk!
Me: This milk is just the same.
D: That milk!
B: Mine's milk! Bobbyou's^(*) milk!
D: That milk!

etc. So I refilled both cups.

This is language and social development, right? Not just How to Waste Milk and Annoy Mom?

^(*) Bobalou.

Two years and one month old.

This'll be the end of marking months for the boys. I'm sure I'll mark their half-years.

Pictures.

Bob trying to get into more mischief. Really they're just trying to figure out how the lock works. Drew usually needs to be lifted off the fan.
Both boys reading on Ellen's mat.
Try not to die of the cute.
Ellen with Liss.
It's rare for me to enter the boys' room in the morning and have them not wake up. So, I grabbed the camera. Here's Bob (close up), and Drew (close up).
The summer pre-school taught them this safety measure.
Ellen in red.
Both getting a little more daring. They took turns making "beep."
Also part of the daring, sometimes they'll stand on their stools and declare themselves "up high!"
Drewbie
Liss got out the shoes she wore at the wedding, which Drew and Bobby both used as an opportunity to give us future embarrassment pictures.
[+] Drew - don't let the red shirt fool you - playing with Ellen.

We call the ice cream truck the "music truck."

The whole "count to five" or "count to ten" thing is remarkably effective. For the most part, they'll respect it, whether it be time to pick a book at bedtime (okay, Bobby's bad about that), or time between taking turns stirring a bowl, or whatever. We figure it's also helping them learn to count themselves, with all that repetition.

One of the first manifestations was Penis Time. When changing their diaper, we'll give them "five more seconds of ..."

No decision yet on how we'll handle the Ellen version.

We secretly and mostly-jokingly refer to fraternals as "fake" twins.

On Friday, we're signing the paperwork to refinance our mortgage, moving it from a 30 to 15 year. The difference in amortization is remarkable; instead of 73% of our payments going to interest instead of principal, it'll be more like 43%.

Another big bonus - assuming everything goes okay, we'll be paying it off a year^(*) before the boys go to college.

^(*) Well, see next post.

We'll have a decision to make in about two and a half years - whether to put the boys into Kindergarten at 5 years and 2 months old. With twins, especially, there are often developmental delays - mental, physical, and social - that would mean their being dwarfed by their classmates in those respects.

That's pretty much the only reason we might keep them back - they'd be two of the youngest and smallest kids.

The case for enrollment on schedule, though, is much more compelling to me. That is, from what I see, they'll be ready "academically," and with more pre-school coming - and our friends having kids - will have plenty of chances to interact with other kids better. Right now they're very shy with strangers, but they also don't have the vocabulary or experience for it. Also, holding them back would be one more year of paying for child care, and delay everything else in their lives for a year until the end of college. By their teens, I'm sure I'd be kicking myself for setting it up so they don't get the hell out of my house until they're 19.

And then there's the other twin conundrum - do we try to get them into the same classroom or not?

We got a lot of snow two winters ago - eight different snow days totalling maybe 24 inches - but zilch last year. We'd even bought appropriate warm clothes for them in anticipation, but for naught. We really hope for some amount of playable snow this year, for the boys' sake, but it's also entirely possible that some of those clothes will still fit them by then.

Because we live in a place famous for its rain, we've started enforcing the rule that shoes come off when you're in the house. The boys haven't taken to it very well, so it might be a few weeks before it's routine. It doesn't help that I often don't take mine off when I get home, because if it's dry, I figure they'll want to go play outside anyway. So, it needs to become routine for me (again), too. Our rainy season won't begin until the end of September, but best to get it ingrained now - in all of us.

Speaking of which, the toddler group of the twins club had a meeting dedicated to ideas for keeping toddlers from going stir crazy when it rains a lot. As usual, though, the meeting started right when we put the boys to bed. In fact, we haven't been to any club meeting since they were three weeks old, for that very reason. It'd be much more convenient for us if such things were on weekends, but alas.

Between Wednesday's doctor visit and the Blue Angels noising up the airspace all weekend, the kids haven't had a normal nap in five days. Liss is hoping for a return to routine today, to save her sanity.

July 31st+

Overall, Ellen is a very easy baby.

Judging from what other toddler parents say, it's amazing that neither twin has tried to climb out of his crib yet. I think they'd definitely be able to do it if they put their minds to it; Liss says one of them climbed up the changing table yesterday.

A surely-incomplete and ever-growing list of ways the boys try to delay naps or bedtime:

Eat!
Juice!
Slide! (down the wagon)
Upside down!
New diaper!
Poop! (*checks* "No you didn't. Nice try.")
(sit on the) Potty!
Run!
Hug!
Smooch!
Pay attention to the baby. (naptime only)
Just plain being coy.
Socks on!
Socks off!
Hide in their little tunnel.
Piano!
Dawdle while getting diapers.
Dawdle while picking a sleeper.
[Other parent] change/dress them.
Dawdle while tossing old diaper.
Dawdle.
Point out a noise, like an airplane or car horn outside.
"Momma coming?" while she's getting their milk ready.
Dawdle going up the stairs. (They're fast when they want to be)
Stop midway up the stairs and point out the cat's water bowl.
... and/or food bowl.
... and/or litter box.
... and/or the cat.
Insist on brushing their own teeth. We count to ten while they do it then take over.
[Other parent] teeth!
Wash hands!
Dry hands!
Close door!
Wait! *I* wanted to close the door!
Dawdle while picking a book, especially Bobby.
Point out their cribs.
Put their milk cups to their mouths but don't suck.
[Parent] ... night! (As in, "come say good night to me.")
Daddy ... sit!
[Bobby] playing in his crib.

And then, four times out of five, when it's time to get up, they're not anxious to.

This morning, Liss was lying in our bed with an alert and happy Ellen, who was fascinated by the rattle in her hand.

It was difficult to leave for work.

So the evening was crappy - cranky, whiny boys, though Ellen mostly held it together - but overnight was fine. I usually sit in the boys' room for about 15 minutes after we put them down, but for the first time since I started doing that months ago, they were both *out* when I left.

From Liss:

I have lunch with the boys every day, crouched on one of their little stools while feeding Ellen and eating whatever they're having. Every day, we have a version of this conversation:

Bobby (holding a piece of apple near Ellen's mouth): Eat apple!
Me: Can Ellen eat the apple?
Boys: NO!
Me: Why not?
Boys: Ellen drink milk!
Bobby: Baby Hank eat apple?
Me: Can Baby Hank eat apples?
Boys: NO!
Me: Why not?
Boys: Baby Hank drink milk!

... and so on, listing all the babies they can think of.

Today, we got even classier:

Bobby (wiggling on the changing table): Bobby wipe butt!
Me: No, Mama needs to do it. I don't think you would get it all clean. But when you're grown up you can wipe your own butt. Grown-ups wipe their own butts.
Bobby: Mama wipe butt.
Me: Yes, Mama wipes Mama's butt.
Bobby: Daddy wipe butt.
Me: Yes, Daddy wipes his butt.
Bobby: Grandpa!
Me: Yes ...

... and so on.

Someday we'll talk about physics and philosophy and stuff, right? Right?

After the boys' ped visit and shots today, they didn't nap. As I'd predicted earlier:

It might make for an interesting evening, and by "interesting" I mean "crappy."

Ellen could start trying solid foods now, but we're not really in a hurry. She eats enough, as evidenced by her weight, and formula is easier than preparing something else. We'll probably start trying some simple stuff on the weekends soon, but I don't think it'll become a regular thing for a few months.

Data from the ped:

Kid	Weight		Height		Head Circ.
Kid	Value	%-ile	Value	%-ile	Value	%-ile
Ellen	15.0	73rd	21"	7th	40.5cm	30th
Bobby	21.5	0.5th	32"	3rd	47.5cm	19th
Drew	22.0	0.9th	32"	3rd	48.0cm	30th

So Drew's still slighty bigger than Bobby, but at this point it takes these measurements to be able to tell.

Additional comments from Liss: "The boys were PISSED OFF the whole time, saying 'All done!' about 400 times. Ellen was fine. We're eating McDonalds."

And: "She also included weight-for-height. Ellen is above the 95th percentile on that one...." In other word: chunky.

I have to admit a certain level of frustration with reading to the boys. Mainly, it's that it's way below my own level (obviously), but also that they fixate on the same few books at a time, so we end up reading the same ones over and over. Nowaways, they're not interested in the words, but the pictures, so they point out what's on the page, we acknowledge or correct, then move to the next page. Frankly, it's boring - important, but boring. We've actually hidden books where the obsession/boredom combination is too high.

Eventually they'll be into books with plots, and reading on their own. However, there will be an overlapping period where they'll be able to [adequately] understand books we actually enjoy, while still allowing us to read to them instead of doing it themselves. We each have a mental checklist of what we'd read to them during that time. Both lists include the Harry Potter series^(*), but diverge after that as far as I know. Mine includes the Master and Commander series, but at 21 books it's probably not realistic, especially because the second one is a slog.

How far into these mental lists we get, of course, is contingent on how long they'll let us read to them. Will it be a few months? A few years? We'll have to prioritize.

I have a similar internal quandry about when to introduce them to Star Wars, but that's another post.

^(*) So we might have to draw straws to see who gets to read them. Maybe the loser gets Ellen's overlap as consolation.

Liss and a fellow twin mom have started a blog about taking tasty but unhealthy recipes and reworking them to be healthier but still tasty. I think she's also using it as an excuse to post more pictures of the kids.

We had the baby gates up for the boys for only a few months. They showed enough respect for the stairs that they didn't seem necessary after a while. However, Ellen will need to learn the same respect when she starts crawling, and we're going to need to have the gates up for that. I have a feeling that it's going to piss the boys off to suddenly have gates impeding their currently unfettered access to the stairways.

She won't crawl for a few more months, and the gates have two lock settings - easy and hard. It's a good bet that we'll just put them on the easy setting, and teach them how to use them as long as they re-lock it behind themselves. At least, I hope they'll be at that point by then. It took a lot of repetition to get them to close the screen door to the patio behind them, but it's pretty routine for them now.

We can say with certainty that the boys aren't color blind. They point out the colors of objects they've never seen before (especially cars), and the only thing they're usually wrong about are shades, such as saying white for silver. They definitely know green, blue, red, orange (often for yellow), pink, white, and black - and purple is putting down roots. Color blindness is one of those things that can slip through the cracks, so while we weren't worried about it, it's nice to know.

Liss is taking all three kids to the pediatrician on Wednesday. It's a good sign that the part we're most curious about is their weights/heights, as opposed to something major or worrisome. Even the boys' tinyness isn't a concern anymore, since they're progressing so well in everything else. Ellen is doing the things babies are supposed to be doing by her age.

However, all three will get shots. It might make for an interesting evening, and by "interesting" I mean "crappy."

Both boys had a bad night. Drew whined and cried on and off until about 11. Then, Bobby started up around 4 - it turns out because he'd pooped a couple of hours before and was starting to get diaper rash from it. They're usually good about staying clean overnight, but he'd had a lot of fruit the day before ...

They both reach this state where it seems I've soothed them long enough, they're good to go, and I can leave their room, but then as soon as the door closes, they start wailing for me again.

I've started employing a new argument in my arsenal - "Daddy needs to sleep." They're old enough to understand that other people have needs and feelings, too - Ellen's existence helps - so I think they kind of get it.

Edited to add, from Liss: Bob was all smiles this morning. I said, "It seemed like you were kind of sad during the night" and he said, "Bobby poop. Clean diaper. Bobby cry. Daddy hug. Okay."

Is it unusual to consider your four-month-old the low maintenance child?

July 24th+

My Dad is in town this weekend, but when we tell them Grandpa is coming, they can only reference the last visit from Liss's father:

"Cut ... hair?"

Bobby: technically, a middle child.

At this same time in future years, I suspect the following:

Year	Boys' Age	Ellen's Age	Naive prediction
2011	3	1+	How cute - they're reading to her.
2012	4	2	Boys, please remember that your sister isn't quite as advanced as you.
2013	5	3	Kindergarten? So soon? Well, at least there are no more diapers in the house.
2014	6	4	Baseball games!
2015	7	5	Summers at grandparents' houses ... without us!
2016	8	6	Boys, where are you going? Take your sister with you.
2017	9	7	Can't you all pick the same night to sleep over at your friends' houses?
2018	10	8	Major road trips begin. We hold fast on personal electronic devices in the car.
2019	11	9	Major road trips continue. We cave on personal electronic devices on the car.
2020	12	10	Ellen, can you please instruct your brothers on the importance of personal hygiene?
2021	13	11	Two teenagers and a tween. Honey, can we trust them long enough to take a trip on our own?
2022	14	12	No, seriously. I don't care if it's a trip to Tacoma. We have to get out of here!
2023	15	13	(In front of Liss) Boys, your sister's friends are not a good source of dating material. (Not) Go for it!
2024	16	14	Boys, where are you driving to? Take your sister with you!
2025	17	15	Grocery bill: $500 a week.
2026	18	16	Since you're moving to college soon, perhaps you'd like to bequeath your car to Ellen? No?
2027	19	17	Okay, Ellen, it's just us and you. Wait, where are you going!?
2028	20	18	Three kids in college? Who needs retirement, anyway? At least the nest is empty. Yay! sob

The whole "kiss it and make it better" thing is a staple of our household now. Whenever the boys stumble or fall or in any way make contact with another object accidentally, they'll come to us to "smoo leg" or "smoo head" or whatever body part, if they know the word for it. It's impossible to refuse.

Yesterday, I was sitting next to Ellen in her swing when Liss brought me lunch. A minute later, I felt a boy approaching, so I looked - Bobby had taken the full glass of milk off my laptop table (with both hands) and brought it to me, without prompting or spilling a drop. It could have been a disaster, but instead it was just a thoughtful act.

Advice for visitors of toddlers, brought to you by parents of toddlers: Don't start, introduce, or teach anything you aren't willing to do over and over and over and over and over.

Liss asked by text if she could call me at work because "D is wailing for you." However, their concept of the telephone isn't very solid right now, so it didn't really help.

He "wails" for me a lot lately, like last night around 8:30. Liss went in to generic cries, to which he started crying "Daddy!" over and over. I went up, she left, and after a five-minute hug I asked if he would lie back down and go to sleep. He did, though I sat with him for a little while.

After not going to work for two days because of the weekend, Bobby correctly deduced that I was getting ready for work Monday morning. I think it was when I was putting things into my pockets when he said "Daddy ... wook?"

And then the delaying tactics began. "Smooch!" "Juice!" "Hug!"^(*) Since the other alternatives are "ok, whatever, dude" or a meltdown, I'll gladly be five minutes late to accomodate. Heck, normally I'm gone before they wake up.

^(*) Okay, that one was my idea.

We've been pounding "please" and (to a lesser extent) "thank you" into the boys for months now, and it hasn't really stuck. We still have to remind them almost every time, though once we do it usually comes. Usually the only reminder necessary is a raised eyebrow. One of these days it'll sink in, but for now it's mostly just become a habit for us to remind them rather than them actually doing it.

With the relative heat and humidity we've had up here, the boys have gotten their first diaper rashes, especially Drew. We've tried to stay on top of it, but it's hard when one poops in his diaper at 3am and then it sits there until morning. In just the last couple of days, they've been requesting new diapers on their own, though they'd already been doing that after pooping for a few weeks.

There's an ointment called Butt Paste (that's the actual brand name) that we'll put on the sore parts, which they now ask for: "butt ... ceam?" At least it's better than outright refusing it, since it certainly helps.

I think Drew used the pronoun "I" in correct context yesterday. Maybe.

Four months old.

With the boys, we kept track of how many weeks old they were for quite a while - maybe to six months. That's not the case with Ellen. I guess it's partially because of the boys' potential health issues at the time, partly for her apparent robust health, and also that we've been using the same by-month thought process with the boys for quite a while now.

She also flipped front-to-back for the first time this weekend, which she probably would have done sooner were it not for the fact that she hates being on her stomach.

July 17th+

Yesterday each twin wore a shirt that his brother would normally wear - Drew in orange! - which Liss says they thought was hilarious and highly subversive. However, they didn't do anything else that might confuse. They still sat in their normal car seats, Drew was still sweet, etc. I wasn't fooled a bit.

I'm sure they'll get better at it.

I installed the smaller black-out curtain in Ellen's room, but it's a black-out curtain like I'm a ballerina. A lot of light gets through, unlike the ones we got for all of the larger windows. However, it's better than nothing, and we had a devil of a time finding something that was even small enough, so it'll have to do for now.

We don't drink soda very often, but when we do and it's around the boys, we call it 'juice.' Specifically, it's Daddy's or Mommy's juice. We don't want them to have it for some time yet, so it's good that they just acknowledge and move on.

One reason this works is that they've developed a sense of possession. Liss says it's strongest when it comes to my things for some reason. Just today, they brought home cupcakes; a normal hedonist would insist on keeping them for themselves, but Drew brought them to me with no fuss. After all, Liss said they were for Daddy.

Yesterday while Ellen was in her swing, Bobby decided that he wanted to smooch her. However, despite my efforts to have him think otherwise, he insisted that she be out of the swing first. Since I was too slow for him, he started trying to lift her out himself. He weighs 24 pounds and has the strength of a cup of decaf. She's 14 and chunky. It was comical. Eventually I lifted her out and he got what he wanted. By then, Drew had come over, and he did the same.

A third of the time they "smooch" her by licking her head, another third with a headbutt, and the rest are actual smooches.

I forgot to have them smooch her when I took her up to bed. They insisted that they climb the stairs to her bedroom to get it done (via headbutt).

Soon I'll teach them to blow kisses.

A father brought his little girl onto the light rail of my morning commute today. I guessed that she was maybe three and a half. During the whole ride, she was calm, polite, and inquisitive.

Something to look forward to.

I'm trying to get away from using the bathroom sink as white noise for Ellen to fall asleep by. She's getting heavier, plus it's lighter in there than the bedroom, then I have to delicately carry her back, it uses water, etc.

Instead, I'm been using a white noise app on my iPod and putting it by her ear while she lies on the bed. As long as she's not wailing, it does the job. It's a pretty geeky thing to do, but a friend of ours says she's done it for months with her boy, so I feel some solidarity there. We both have found the "pouring rain" setting to work best, as opposed to "thunderstorm" or "crashing waves." It also gives me a chance to read to her while she lies there, which I've started doing. However, I haven't thought far enough ahead with that, so I end up grabbing whatever's on the shelf in her room, like America: The Book.

Taking it to another level, we used it on the drive to and from Portland last month by hooking up the iPod to the car stereo and cranking it. You can't really soothe a baby physically while driving, and we were getting a little desperate ...

And as a final "throw up my hands and admit stuff" thing, I'm now using it for myself. At my new job, I'm temporarily among call center people, and it's very hard to concentrate sometimes with all that chatter. However, music in earphones can be distracting when you really need to focus. So, put in the earphones, turn on the white noise app ...

I can't wait for this kind of thing - from a friend:

One of the cutest little girls I have ever seen just stopped dead in her tracks and pointed her finger at me with my motorcycle helmet and riding gear and asked in an excited voice, "Mommy, is he going into space!?!"

Rest assured that such emanations from my own children will be documented here.

If you've got an hour, here's a fairly depressing New York Magazine article about modern parenting.

"All joy and no fun."

And Liss found a rebuttal that picks it apart.

Liss asks the poignant questions, like "when does a broken cracker stop being a crisis?"

A friend says in about six more months.

My Mom said age 18.

Drew (and by extension, I) had a rough night last night. He started screaming for Mama around 2, though I went because the boys are my overnight responsibility - which usually means nothing. My guess is that he had a nightmare. It took about 90 minutes for him to fall back asleep; any attempts to leave him before that just started his screaming again. Then I couldn't fall asleep myself, which has been my MO for at least a year now.

Bobby squirmed and fussed a little, but mostly just slept through the whole thing.

I think Ellen will have a single dimple on her left cheek, like Drew does.

Pictures.

My new favorite.
With their uncle Douglas, Bob on the left.
Both on the floor (close-up), with Bob wearing his Appropriate Shirt.
Their birthday cake that Liss made. If you say anything like "she must have a lot of time on her hands," you will feel her wrath. You've been warned.
Both in their new backpacks that my Mom got them. Inside: a diaper or two, water bottle, hat, one wipes and the other sunscreen.
Bob with Ellen. She smiles at them when they pay attention to her, which will help get them to do it more often.
Bob and Drew with smiles.
[+] The boys (without prompting) figured out that if they upend their wagon, they can use it as a slide. Drew comes to sit on my lap ... and wonders why he can't see himself in the camera window. You can also hear an ice cream truck near the end; fortunately, they have no idea yet.
[+] [6 minutes] Continuation of the scene, this shows how well they're learning to plan and such - Drew by removing obstacles before starting to roll the wagon, and Bob by letting his brother do all the work.

Liss says she knew I was still recording because my voice gets higher when I do that.

Nothing quite says "fatherhood" like cleaning migratory poop out of your baby daughter's vagina.

It's one thing for your toddler to willingly smooch, but quite another to have him initiate it.

July 10th+

While we were in Portland, I noticed that the host family's 21-month-old toddler's room had a little plush bed next to his crib. Today I asked if it was there to get him used to the idea before he left the crib, to which his dad said no, he's been out of the crib for a few months now. So, he's been out since 18 months, and our boys just hit two years and are still on cribs. That begs the question - is it time?

Half of me says no ... and that half is Bobby. When we put him down, he's whiny, defiant, playful, and noisy. Drew mostly just lies in his crib and observes Bob and maybe reads his book.

The danger, in my guesstimation, would be giving them (him) the idea that they don't have to sleep in cribs. It happened with their car seats - once they tasted front-facing, they hated the mere thought of using the rear-facing seats. Right now, cribs are just how it is and has always been. But ... there's an alternative!?

That friend also said that while his son took to the bed right away, another's pounded the closed door every night for three weeks wailing to be let out. So, there's that.

Last week I mentioned how sometimes older siblings will "interpret" for their youngers before the latter can talk, to the point of knowing what they want even better than the parents. Well, we think Bobby's started.

A couple of days ago, Liss was holding a fussy Ellen and trying to give her a bottle. Bobby pointed at Ellen and said "binky." We got a binky, put it in her mouth, and she got quiet.

Never ones to take anything at face value, today we experimented. Ellen started to get fussy, and a binky wasn't working, so we simply asked Bobby what she wanted. After a few seconds, he pointed and said "eat!" We made some formula, and she drank a full seven ounces.

While this still doesn't prove anything, it's not like he's 2 for 23. He's 2 for 2. A few more and we'll believe.

We say that Bobby's the less empathetic twin, but maybe he's just more sensitive. Or maybe he's paid more attention to his sister than we give him credit for.

From Liss:

My Mom spent her whole career with the Department of Housing and Urban Development. When asked about their jobs, my Dad would say, "I'm a historic preservation architect" and my Mom would say, "I work for HUD." It took me until I was at least 10 or 11 to realize that HUD wasn't a guy.

Now I wonder what the boys think when I tell them "Daddy's at work" or "Daddy rode the bus to work." They know these things: 1) Daddy leaves for "work" before they get up; 2) Daddy rides on a bus; 3) Sometimes Daddy sees their friend Hank's Poppy, Ash, on the bus. So now when I go get them in the morning, they Say, "Daddy work. Ride Bus. Ash." I wish I could tell what this looks like in their heads. Probably Daddy and Ash are on that bus all day long.

Yesterday I was de-glazing a pan with a little water while they watched from the counter. They noticed the steam and that the water was disappearing. "Water all gone!" they said, so I told them the water was getting hot and going up into the air, waving my arms to show the air all around. Later they saw steam on a TV commercial and said, "Water - air - all gone" and waved their arms around. What such little scientists!

We have little moments like this every day, where I marvel at how their brains are developing and wish they could tell us more.

We're moving Ellen into her room this weekend. She's entered a phase where she'll make lots of noises in the middle of the night - squirming or just babbling - that don't require our attention but keep us awake.

First, I need to install a black-out curtain^(*) over its small window. We did the same for all of the other bedroom windows, and they've been great.

She's maybe a month away from outgrowing her bassinet, after which we'll put her in a pack-and-play.

^(*) A wise investment.

My new workplace has blocked access to this site. "Games." Lovely.

From Liss:

The boys started a summer Montessori preschool program today. They're going two mornings per week until sometime in August. Today they were both crying when I left and when they got back, one of the teachers said, "We went for a walk and Bobby helped make muffins." Just Bobby? "Well, Drew was still crying." Yikes, poor guy. But naturally, by the time I got back 2 hours later neither of them wanted to leave. There are other kids there! And racecar tracks! And kid-height counters for cooking projects! And balls you're allowed to throw indoors!

And with them in preschool, I get a chance to give Ellen a bit more attention. She's getting more and more aware of the world, able to enjoy predictable games and figuring out her hands.

Of course, taking care of just Ellen is also much easier than taking care of 3. But SAHM Summer MMX is lot easier and more relaxing than I'd anticipated. It helps that I don't think I need to do much else other than take care of children. While the boys nap, I watch True Blood or work on dinner. Every once in a while I even get to shower. And as much as I crave some kind of life of my own, I'm enjoying these days with my children.

July 3rd+

This morning, Drew climbed onto my piano bench - the first time I'd seen him do that. I showed him the power button - he had trouble pressing it only once so it would stay on - and he went to town. Bobby climbed up and joined him.

They don't "play" (i.e. pound) for long, but the interest is apparently there. It's probably just another toy in their minds for now, but it's nice to see them noticing it.

The chronology of Ellen's emotional states when I put her to bed is usually like this:

As I take her upstairs, she starts crying if she wasn't already. I think she realizes that the bedtime routine has begun, and doesn't like it.
Wrapping her in the miracle blanket just infuriates her further.
I give her her bottle, and she calms down. Afterwards, she's either screaming again or asleep.
If screaming, I'll take her to the bathroom sink (for white noise) and rock/shush her to sleep. That's becoming less effective as she gets out of the "fourth trimester" newborn phase.

Note that there's no good place in there for reading to her, which I need to start doing. Last night was the first real exception - after her bottle, she lay there quietly, so I was able to grab a couple of books and read them to her, after which she fell asleep pretty easily. Here's hoping that's the new trend.

She's been fighting the miracle blanket pretty hard, so it's probably time to switch her to sleep sacks.

The four-month sleep regression should be starting any week now.

Now when we ask the boys for a smooch ("mooch!"), instead of lowering their heads for a scalp kiss, they pucker up and let us smooch them on the lips. It's very sweet and surely fleeting.

Pictures.

Liss's grandmother bought a table that we'd put on the wish list. It's already a hub of activity.
Ellen is just starting to learn that she can control her hands, specifically for putting in her mouth for self-soothing. We hope she continues and gets better, because she's been requiring a lot of soothing.
The boys were playing a game whereby they'd run around the kitchen island (wearing only a diaper) then have Liss lift them way up, after which they'd start running again. She got tired way before they did. I think that's Bobby.
Ellen staring.
And in the tongue-in-cheek shirt.
And smiling.
[+] Who will win the toddler battle of wills!?

I did a really quick weigh-in of Ellen on the spring scale - 13.5 pounds. However, her legs were halfway dangling over the makeshift platform I'd put her on^(*), so she may be heavier than that.

^(*) The large version of the Goodnight Gorilla board book.

Some of the boys' old words are changing to sound like some new words. For example, "binky" used to sound like you'd expect, but now sounds more like their "pancake" ("BAN-kay"). The same goes for "strawberry" ("taw") now sounding like the letter W ("dub-oh-yew").

We estimate they have a little less than 200 words right now, but really, it'd take Rain Man to figure it out.

One of the nice new phrases that Drew's started saying, when he finishes a tantrum:

"Cy-ing. All done!"

Of the five reasons listed here that a child might start talking relatively lately, the boys had three - premies, multiples and boys. They started a little late, but have since gone way past the two-year benchmark of 50 words and a few two-word sentences.

Ellen has one reason - being a younger sibling. However, I've heard lots of stories now about how common it is, and how if the boys take a great(er) interest in her later, she might not bother talking until maybe age three. I think we'd prefer to cut that off at the pass by engaging her directly and asking the boys not to intervene too often, but I don't think we'd be insistent, either. After all, it'd be a way for the three of them to form their bonds.

We went to Portland for a wedding last weekend (taking Ellen but leaving the boys here with Amy). The host family has a 3 1/2 year old daughter. Liss, who's grown accustomed to the boys' noun-centric talk at nearly two, wasn't expecting this exchange when talking to her:

L: Do you have a new dress for the wedding?
F: Yes.
L: What color is it?
F: Well, maybe you could come in the house and see it!

So, at least now we have an idea what we can expect by the end of next year.

Liss's parents gave us a small wooden board with the alphabet and colored wooden letters that go into the board. We keep the letters in a bag, because otherwise they'd strew all over (and they still kind of do). The first day or two, the boys were pretty into it, but like all new "toys," it faded into the rotation of their stuff.

After about a week of not playing with them, Drew asked for the letters. After I dumped them out, he picked up the M and said "dub-oh-yew."

There was no way we were going to correct him on that.

As part of our continued but reluctant emergence into responsible adulthood, we've applied to refinance the house to a 15-year mortgage. With the way interest rates have gone lately (we'd go from 5.75 to 3.875), plus the amortization of 15 versus 30 years, we'd be saving some $200,000 over the life of the loans. And it looks like our payment will only go up about $100 a month.

Another advantage is that, assuming we make it through, we'd have the house paid off before Liss turns 50. My goal is to let her retire at 53 - after 30 years in the schools - but it's way too early to know if that's realistic.

In a couple of weeks, we'll be moving Ellen to her room. It's currently a combination of guest bedroom and storage, mostly of books. However, it doesn't have to be completely cleared out right away. At first, it just needs to be able to hold her bassinet, then crib or pack-and-play or whatever else we end up putting her in to sleep. We'd prefer not to buy a third crib, but the boys just aren't ready to move to a bed yet - especially Bobby.

We'd been saying that Ellen might not need to be sleep trained, since she was doing so well, but this last week hasn't been so great, so we may have to after all. If so, it'd be in mid to late August.

The boys are now out of day care. After this three-day weekend, I start my new job and Liss takes care of the kids by herself until school starts again. She'll have our new nanny come for half-days twice a week, but otherwise it's just her. She plans to be out of the house a lot, as all three tend to do better out in public than around the house.

It looks like my commute will be a little longer, despite being only 6 miles instead of 17. It's downtown, where I have no intention of parking, so I'll be taking either the light rail or bus; I'll experiment to see which is better/faster, but either way, I'll heave to leave earlier and get home later.

One major logistical challenge is putting all three down for their naps. If it's just the boys or just Ellen, it's not a big deal, but all three? She may have to just let Ellen be by herself while putting the boys down, and if she cries, she cries. That's preferable to leaving the boys to their own devices, to get into who-knows-what while trying to calm Ellen enough for sleep. Plus, the boys are on a good nap schedule, so that needs to be adhered to.

My week off between jobs hasn't been terribly relaxing, as we made a point to use the opportunity to get some important things done. We didn't get to it all, but made some good progress.

Because she was starting to spit up a lot, we switched Ellen to a sensitive formula. It seems to have had the opposite effect, making her more cranky and fussy, though she doesn't spit up as much. It's probably gas. The spitting up is vastly superior to the screaming, so we're switching back.

Of course, it could always be something else, like a growth spurt or teething or just being a cranky baby, but we think it's the formula.

June 19th+

From Liss:

I promised myself and Ellen that I'd try to give her milk for 3 months. Friday marks that day, and I haven't decided whether to continue after that. Reason against: We're* going to an out-of-town wedding this weekend and I refuse to tote the big pump**. Reason for: The hand pump works pretty well, though. Against: My supply is down since I ran out of fenugreek, but For: I still have 2 weeks' worth of domperidone left. Against: she now refuses to latch at all, even with the supplemental nursing system or in the early morning. For: we start a new play group on Tuesday and the antibodies could be useful.

So I'll probably use up the domperidone I have and then see what happens. For all my frustrations and disappointments, this breastfeeding journey has been pretty positive.

To be honest, I'm a little nervous about the wedding. How silly is that? I'm excited for the bride and groom; they've had a very tough year and I hope their day goes splendidly. I'm excited to get out of town; it doesn't happen often. But since J is a groomsman and since we won't have as much gear (e.g. swing, play mat) I'm also anticipating holding the baby pretty much all weekend. There's a bachelor party Friday night, which most of the people I know there will probably attend while I sit in a darkened hotel room and Ellen sleeps***. I feel like a terrible mother, whining about spending time with my baby. And I'm sure it will be fine, I'm mostly worried that I won't feel comfortable asking other people for help, or I'll ask J for help in stupid, passive-aggressive ways. I will figure out how to have fun, dangit!

* including Ellen, but the boys are staying home with the amazing Amy
** we're already taking a sword fercryinoutloud
*** must must MUST get a new book

Interpretation of Bobby:

"How dare you give me the green juice cup instead of the purple one!"
*slurp*slurp*
"I'm insulted beyond words!"
*slurp*slurp*
"It's a travesty, I say! A travesty!"
*slurp*slurp*

Ellen's sleep is all out of whack, but not in the sleep regression way (which will be worse). Either she has trouble getting to sleep then sleeps for ten hours, or goes down easily but wakes up early.

Oh, and Bob calls his brother "Doo-bie" a lot now, since we still call him "Drewbie" all the time.

When choosing a book to read, the boys tend to favor the biggest one in sight. Imagine, if you will, this trait stayed with us after toddlerhood.

Critics' jobs would be a snap. "It's huge! Buy it!"

And paperbacks would only be for poor people.

Pictures.

Bob causing trouble. It'll be a while, though.
Drew upside down.
Both boys in my lap for more whole-fat yogurt straight from the tub.
Ellen and Liss.
Both boys' legs in my lap in an artsy shot.
Ellen got a new playmat, so of course the boys had to check it out.
Ellen asleep on my legs.
Bob close up.
Drew with a smile.
[+] A new game the boys and I are playing.

The boys are learning a lot, and mostly positive.

As shown in the wagon video below (under May 29th), they're taking turns without much prompting. We still have the collapsable blue tunnel; last night I would expand it over (for example) Drew, then when I collapsed it back down, he'd step out and say "Bob turn." Bob did the same.
We've been playing with balls out on the porch, and they each have "theirs." A few times Bob has gone out of his way to get Drew's and bring it to him - and Drew's said "thank you."
They've both starting adding an 's' to some words in appropriate plural context.
We normally don't need to remind them to close the screen door when going outside anymore.
They'll usually leave things alone if we say they belong to one of us.
One negative is that they're getting better at stalling - mostly by insisting that "the parent who didn't start this" finish it. This applies to getting ready in the morning, diaper changes, getting ready for bed, brushing teeth, etc. It bites them in the ass sometimes, though, like when we were trying to get ready to take them for pancakes on Saturday. If we had a nickle for every time we said "Boys, hurry up, we're going for pancakes!" ...

June 12th+

The baby son of some friends has reached his four-month sleep regression, of which we'd warned them. It's a sign of things to come for us.

The boys are learning their colors. So far orange, blue, red, white, black and green are pretty solid.

I've been lax lately. Things are crazy. The big news is that I have a new job starting early July, and am in the middle of my notice at the current job. Maybe things will settle down soon.

June 5th+

Twenty-three months old.

I finally sold my old but huge television. The guy took it while the boys were napping, but they asked where it went, so Liss told them that the TV went bye-bye, and that some men had put it into a truck to take it away.

Since then, every time they go into that room, it's "TV? Bye-Bye! Truck!"

I'm typically the one to put Ellen down lately. It's become my one-on-one time with her, and I'm pretty good at it. Her silver bullet is the bathroom sink - it produces white noise that at least keeps her quiet, but usually goes beyond and gets her sleepy. I need to add reading to the routine somewhere, though.

Usually whoever's doing it is done before it's time to put the boys down, but not always. We've each had our fair share of one-on-two.

Speaking of which, Liss revealed something insightfully self-aware. No matter whether she's putting Ellen or the boys down, she's been feeling like she's gotten the easier of the two chores. Of course, that's completely illogical, but it touches on something we've both felt since this whole parenthood thing started - we've both constantly felt like we're not doing enough, and that the other of us has it harder. We also know we're both wrong and being stupid about it, but that doesn't help much.

All of this contributes to our constant exhaustion. We have this irrational fear of seeming to the other like we're slacking, so we overcompensate.

May 29th+

Videos.

[+] Ellen still doesn't do much, but she's cute when she does.
[+] You can design a toy, but that doesnt' mean it'll be used like you expect.
[+] Saying good night to Ellen. Drew "smooches" by lowering his head (so we can smooch it). Bob just shoves her away. He's getting better, though.
[+] The boys being cute with their Mom.
[+] Notice how they take turns without incident. What's a little wear on the cabinetry for happy boys?

Ellen's sitting up pretty well now, though she still has a ways to go before we don't have to be right there making sure she doesn't lean over and plop to her side.

The boys have gotten on board the concept of "kiss it and make it better," so when they hurt themselves somehow, they'll let us do that and they immediately feel better. Drew took this to a new level, though - we were outside on the porch, and he kept going under the stairs and emerging holding his head as though he'd bonked it, then coming to me to smooch it. However, he then proceeded to do it another six times in a row, and it was obvious that he wasn't actually hitting his head. The silly boy seems to think we need an excuse.

It's become our main social thing to meet rotating friends at a local diner for breakfast/brunch on a weekend morning. I think we've gone about 12 times so far this year. The boys love it; we can tell them we're going to go for "pancakes" later and they'll happily exclaim "pah-cay!" until we get there. I think they've named the place "pancakes." The manager has twins a year older, so he understands our needs.

Whenever we're there, the boys eat a ton - pancakes, chicken sausage, scrambled eggs, fruit. It's almost getting to the point where we have to order a plate just for them to share, but we're not quite there yet. Mainly they eat off our plates and we get a separate short stack for them.

For weeks, Drew would cry and yell for me at bedtime. Gradually I adopted the Ferber-like method of going in after five minutes to assure him, then leaving, coming back in ten if he was still crying, etc. It worked pretty well, and he stopped about a week ago. All that time, Bobby would just lay in his crib quietly.

Two or three days after Drew stopped, Bobby started.

We don't look forward to three-day weekends like most people, because that's when we perform child care for three full days instead of two.

I got a little snippy about it this past weekend, but it's not like I have much of a safety valve to complain to, either; Liss has it worse than I do. Well, that's not entirely true lately, since her weekday job for now is just Ellen and studying math, and she loves the job she'll be going back to. After another month, though, she'll be taking care of all three seven days a week for the summer, plus my being there nights and weekends.

What really kind of pushed me over was the realization that this will be my life until I'm at least 40. The last two years of my 30s are already booked. I know we asked for it, but ... man.

Ellen's producing her first tears.

But only on one side.

The boys' second birthday is only six weeks away(!). We've updated the wish list for those in the market.

Practice makes perfect

Holiday weekends aren't relaxing around here. We spent about 15 hours Saturday engaged in child care. Sunday and Monday promise to be similar. Ellen might be popping an early tooth - at least, something's up with her - and Bobby has the warning signs of a growth spurt.

May 22nd+

I think the boys are starting to discern colors, especially green.

When Liss's father was here, we all speculated on how much Ellen would weigh at her two-month appointment. I believe the guesses ranged from 10#1 to 10#9 or something. Instead, she's 11#9. She's a big one.

However, true to form, her percentiles are like this:

Weight: 68th
Height: 10th
Head size: 40th

In other words, she's still a squat, stout thing. By contrast, the boys have consistently been 1/3/30 their whole lives.

If she keeps to these percentiles, by the time she gets to the boys' age, she'll be 28-29 pounds (they're 22) and 32-33 inches tall (they're 30.5). Looking at the chart, they might be the same weight (26) when she's 16 months and the boys are turning three.

At their Saturday visit for the study, the boys were weighed at 22 pounds (with clothes but not coats) and 30.5 inches tall.

Ellen will usually sleep straight from about 7-8pm to about 3-5am. For two months old, that's fabulous. We have to keep that in mind, because she often won't go back down easily after waking up. The boys were much worse in the long term, still getting up for the day at 5:30 well beyond their first birthday.

She'll likely have the dreaded four-month sleep regression, which is scheduled right when Seattle gets its hottest summer nights^(*). The boys' regression lasted two months, and was simply a horrible time for us. Here's hoping she does better, but at least there's only one of her.

^(*) Tell me more, tell me more.

Pictures.

The boys have resisted hats their entire lives, but finally started asking for them after a few evenings on the cool porch. Bob's in the blue coat.
Later that evening in the kitchen. I think Bob looks like an old Russian man in this one.
And here, Drew proves that you can make even an adorable toddler look like a drunk if you catch him in mid-blink.
All three kids
Ellen
The important thing to note about this picture is that I sat down first.
What happens when your toddlers learn to use nearby items to climb?
This happens.
Ellen with her Grandpa.
The reason the boys are so happy here is that Drew had been ramming the wagon into the counters, and Bob was laughing about it just as much as he. I'll post video later.
Ellen crying, as she does.
Ellen and my favorite onesie of hers.

The boys called Liss's dad "GAH-pah" the whole weekend, so it looks like they're getting good at attaching names to certain people.

I think they've also learned the concept of "two" - specifically to ask for two green bears at bedtime. I guess whatever works.

From Liss:

Sooo, I tried going back to work. It was OK, going in with the baby and teaching a few classes, running some data and starting the planning for next year. But it wasn't great. Ellen would sleep in the sling pretty willingly all morning, but after lunch she wanted more attention. I felt like I wasn't doing my best at either job. I had a hard time keeping to my work schedule because Ellen doesn't have much of a schedule at all. It was difficult to fit in our nursing-feeding-pumping routine.

I'd worked it out to have 2 days off per week until the end of school, so I was feeling like I could manage for the 5 weeks we have left. But then my substitute got a better offer: full-time for the rest of the year at a tough school. The sub pay scale is set up so the more days they work in one position, the more they get paid per day; but she'd been willing to do my 2 days per week until she got offered 4 weeks in a row. All the other good subs are of course booked up by now ...

Which made it easy to decide to stay home after all. We might even pull the boys out of daycare 2 weeks early to save the money (though that's not set in stone). The best part? The principal agreed to let me work from home a bit, doing the data and planning stuff, and to cover the sub for that time. That means I'll still have 3 weeks of sick time to get us through the next school year. Considering we'll have a nanny and not daycare, that should be plenty.

So clearly, I need to claim this [video] as my theme song, even if I don't play the trumpet.

May 15th+

The estate planning stuff is getting overwhelming. We should have tackled one thing at a time, which we kind of did, but almost everything is throwing important paperwork back at us to read and sign before proceeding. The estate lawyer sent us 20 pages each, E-Trade wants more paperwork to put Liss's name on my accounts, we just got a 27-page lump from the credit union about refinancing the house, the credit union called me about additional fees to close our home equity loan, our life insurance agent is sending us information about our policies and potential policies for the kids, and a financial guy I've been working with sent me 529 contracts for the boys that I may not want to even do. With all that and my job being stressful this month and Liss going back to work and our evenings being focused on the kids, something might have to give.

At my job, I have to work a Saturday every few months, including this coming. Fortunately, Liss's father is flying in for a weekend visit today, so that will offset my absence. However, the boys happen to have their next diabetes study visit, which involves blood draws and so on, so she's also found a sitter for Ellen while they take them in.

Whereas we'd been putting Ellen down around 9-10pm, we've now made a concerted effort to change her bedtime to 6:30 or so. We were just getting tired of constantly dealing with the children until our own bedtime. At first, Liss would try a routine that waited for Ellen to fall asleep in her arms, but she still has the propensity to wake up a few minutes after seemingly sleeping. A couple of nights it took two hours to feel comfortable enough to leave her. What Liss found - through desperation - was that Ellen can be put down with open eyes, and she might just lie there for a while before falling asleep. I put her down last night, but she woke up 15 minutes later, so there are still kinks in the system.

In order to help get herself through the process, she's started downloading podcasts onto the iPod I won her for Christmas. The task can get boring.

The other tricky part is that the boys' bedtime is still 7, so we try to get Ellen down before then. If it doesn't happen, then the other of us (so far me) puts them down while the other works on Ellen. However, it's gotten to the point where putting both boys down can be a one-person job without too much trouble. However, Drew still cries the first few times I leave the room, so it's just best that I be part of it.

I overheard Liss calling our daughter "Elliebean."

Now that the weather is warming and the evenings are lighter, the boys go out to the back porch a lot. We have a few outdoor toys, including various fat colored chalks that they like to ... throw. Sometimes they'll use them to mark up the concrete.

However, they still don't really understand that when it's 70 degrees and sunny, they don't need their coats. We spent a while last fall getting them in the routine of putting coats on when going outside, and now we're having trouble breaking it. They'd rather complain about being hot than take off a coat, because they can't make the connection. Of course, by the time we break the old routine, it'll be fall again and ... yeah.

In that same vein, they still tend to choose their fleece sleepers at bedtime, even when it's 76 in their room.

Liss is back to work, but taking Ellen with her. She's not in a classroom, so it mostly works. Surely at some point there will be an inconsolable baby at the worst possible time, but she'll deal with that when it comes.

Liss may have jinxed herself by saying how easy Ellen was at night, because she's having trouble getting back to sleep now. That'll learn her.

Bobby's definitely getting an early start to his terrible twos. In just the last couple of weeks, he's become more defiant and "I can't heeeaaar yoooou!" Probably 80% of the time outs we issue to the boys go to him. Fortunately, they tend to work; he just forgets the lesson within a couple of hours.

The most common thing he'll do is touch someone against their will, either by hitting, shoving, or pinching. He's not strong enough for it to hurt, but it's annoying, especially to Drew, who is affected more due to his similar weakness. We'll tell Bob 'no,' and then he'll usually look at us while slooowly moving his arms to do whatever it is again. It's hard not to laugh.

He's already learning that if I have to get off my ass, he's in trouble. So what does he do? "Mama!" and runs to her. She offers no sympathy, but I guess he has to try.

During a walk this weekend, he got out of hand to the point that he was unsafe with regards to the street, so I had to overcome him physically. That's never fun, but when they're starting to endanger themselves, it's time to bring out the big guns. They have no concept of "run into street, hit by car, dead" yet.

From Liss:

I just realized that between the domperidone and fenugreek, the lactation consultants and the pump rental, my breast milk costs at least a dollar per ounce. That's like t-bone steaks, halibut fillets, or a decent wine. It's less than Copper River salmon or filets mignons. It's way, way more than formula--even the preemie stuff.

I know that's not the point at all, but it amused me to realize.

---------

My maternity leave is over; officially, I'm back to work on Monday. I'm taking Ellen with me and I've asked the sub to stay for at least 3 days so I can figure out what's going on. And then come back 1-2 days per week until the end of school (June 22). Maybe more. Have I mentioned how much I enjoyed being on leave? -sigh-

Then again, I'm lucky enough to have a job I love. I'll just love it more in September.

May 8th+

The clinic weighed Drew with his clothes on - 22 pounds.

These are some tiny, tiny boys.

Random article reinforcing what we already knew - to generally talk to our children as though they were adults and could understand us.

It's a banner evening around here, and not in the good way. Drew has a little rash, which I'd noticed but didn't think much of. Bob has nothing like it. Around 11 the day care lady called about Drew, pointing out his rash and saying she'd monitor it for spreading, etc. When I picked them up, she said that since she was going to be watching her infant granddaughter on Friday, she wanted a doctor's note that he wasn't contagious. The thing is, she has an incentive to declare our children sick, as she can refuse to care for them and still get paid. That's always bugged me, especially since she has no other (official) charges to be infected.

So as soon as I brought the boys home, Liss took Drew to urgent care, leaving me with Bobby and a sleeping Ellen. Seeing Mommy leave so soon set Bobby off, which woke up his sister. A hungry baby always gets priority, which a toddler doesn't understand, so it was a vicious cycle. Every few moments, he'd ask for Doo or Mama, and not understand my answers. Meanwhile, Ellen's going through her six-week growth spurt; there was about a single 20-minute window in which she wasn't eating or fussing, which thank goodness was right at Bobby's bedtime. As that time approached, I realized he hadn't eaten dinner, so I shoved as much yogurt into him as he would take. A classy eating establishment are we.

Liss didn't take any supplies to the clinic, thinking they'd only be gone an hour or two, but they didn't get back for three. So, Drew was getting hungry and past-my-bedtime cranky with a full (but not poopy, thankfully) diaper, etc. (Apparently he got to wear a little toddler-sized gown with a tiger print.) In the end, the test showed that it was a contagious virus, but one that poses no danger and whose only symptom is his painless rash. The nextly important part is that the doctor's write-up specifically says "can attend day care."

They got home with some drive-thru, which kept Drew up even longer - he just went down two hours after bedtime, not crying for me like usual. He was also very sweet to me, and was reportedly like that for much of the time in the clinic.

Tonight I felt like a Dad, and Liss felt like a Mom, but really we feel that way every day now, but not usually to this degree.

We're [finally] in the process of creating our wills and other estate planning business. Included in the process are all sorts of 'what if' questions that are necessary, but not comfortable. If one of us dies or becomes incapacitated, things are simple. If both of us, however ... who gets the kids? Who gets our meager net worth? It stands to reason that if someone gets one, they get the other. We're pretty big on not splitting up the kids, either.

As it turns out, we only have one blood sibling between us, so it's not that bad. Our parents are in their 60s, so that'd be quite a burden, though I'm sure they'd do what they can. This is the legal guardian and money stuff.

During all of this, I found out that Liss is the person - you have to designate a person, not a couple - to get the baby of a local couple if they were to both die. They got him through an open adoption, meaning they have a relationship with the birth mother, with the idea that their son will know her. Therefore, if Liss were to get him, we'd have the double task of (a) making sure I also legally adopt him, and (b) continuing the birth mother relationship, not that we've met her.

It all gets complicated, especially with powers of attorney and medical directives and potential conflict of interest to have one lawyer draw up both wills, etc. Washington is a community property state, which means every dollar we earn (or borrow) since getting married is shared by law, but what we bring to the marriage is still our own, as are inheritances. We've chosen to waive those exceptions and pool everything together. That might bite us in the ass if we were to ever get divorced, but really, if you had to bet on one couple for 'til death do us part, pick us.^(*)

Sometimes I miss the days when my biggest worry was which Saturday morning cartoons to watch, but not often.

^(*) On top of being madly in love and highly compatible, we're also exceptionally lazy. Seriously, pick us.

Since Liss and I are both baseball fans, we're glad that the boys already recognize the game when it's on TV ("BAY-bah"). We took them to a game last year and had to leave by the 4th inning due to meltdowns, but I want to try again within the next couple of months. With Ellen in the picture, we'll either need a sitter for her or invite more adults than kids to join us, to keep the ratio sane.

Twenty-two months old.

Pictures and video.

Drew
Bobby
Ellen
Ellen first started smiling about a week ago, but it took this long to capture it.
Me (another) at about the boys' age - an uncanny resemblance.
[+] Drew being silly.
[+] The boys are becoming more helpful, at great personal risk.
[+] It's not always cuteness and sweet.
[+] Drew took us by surprise by 'counting' to nine. After I got the camera, he did it again to five (starting at 00:53). He's just going by rote, based on the many number books and hundreds of readings thereof that we've done so far, but Liss isn't giving him the next numbers in any way, so it's legitimate recall in the right order, at least.

Similar to the counting video, I got annoyed with how the boys were asking for their snacks, so I stopped Drew and tried to get him to ask nicely, taking him word for word:

"Daddy"
"Dah-ee"
"May"
"May"
"I"
"Ah"
"have"
"haa"
"some"
"suh"
"Bunnies"
"buh"
"please?"
"pease"

He was very pleased with himself ... not that he "gets" it, but practice makes perfect.

I went to Houston this past weekend for my grandmother's funeral. Liss seems to have coped just fine, though with help. However, it apparently had its moments.

From Liss:

I love how, even though I hardly make any milk, Ellen still loves the boob. She just fell asleep suckling, as she does most evenings. It's sweet, and it gives me a bizarre sense of success. I haven't pumped in days, just let her nurse (and followed with bottles, of course). Not sure how this will work when I'm back at work on the 17th, but we'll deal.

And:

I once heard some baby guru say she thought most people get the baby they can handle. Patient people get the developmentally delayed kids, energetic people get the ones who never sleep, like that. While I don't necessarily agree (more likely, folks adapt to their kids--or, often enough, don't), I think we have had the babies we could handle. Our marriage was (and still is) solid enough that we could care for teensy newborn twins and still like each other. And now that we have a couple of toddlers running around, going from gleeful to despondent and back in a minute flat? We again have the baby we can handle, in that she's muuuch easier^*. She fusses in the evening, yeah, but she settles in a sling or on the boob; and at night, she sleeps. Only one time in her life have I had to feed her more than once overnight. And I really can't complain much about James's absence these past 3 days because last night and the one before, she slept 8.5-9 hours in a row.

I think we'll keep her.

^* that, or, everyone should have twins first.

May 1st+

As expected, the new ceiling fans kind of freaked out the boys the first night. However, that changed quickly. They now want the fans to be on at all times. When I bring them home from day care, they'll walk over to one fan, ask us to turn it on, then walk over to the other and do the same. The first motion of each fan illicits giggles of glee.

Dorks.

We'd hoped that the next logical step to getting a little stool for the minivan was that the boys would grab and place it themselves before using it to get inside, instead of waiting for us. They've done exactly that - for the subset of the twins known as Bob. Drew just waits for Bob to do it, which for his part is either sloth or genius.

It's embarrassing, but we want to be smooched by the boys, and they don't do it. We smooch them all the time, and they emulate it ... on their stuffed animals. We flat out ask, and they act sly and/or confused. It's pathetic behavior on our part, and it will continue.

They've got us right where they want us.

Remember how terrified you were the first time you drove onto the freeway as a teenager? Maybe you do, maybe you don't, but it's likely that if you're an adult now, you no longer feel any such panic.

In that vein, we're experiencing something every second-time parent must go through - a general feeling of "been there, done that." Just about everything we're doing with Ellen, we were doing in 2008 with the boys, and with more urgency given their small size and two-of-them-ness and the fact the we'd not done it before (especially me). We didn't need to buy much for her, compared to everything for them. And so on.

The thing is, Ellen will always be behind the boys ... until maybe puberty. By the time she's crawling, the boys will be in the middle of potty training. When she says her first word, they'll talk in complete sentences. Her first day of school will come two years after theirs. They'll have almost two years of memories of times she'll be too young to recall.

The only way I've thought to assuage her future laments is to tell her that it also means she'll get to live with us by herself for two years, though that probably will only work ... until maybe puberty. Perhaps then I'll switch to saying she'll likely live longer, but I may not want to get that macabre about it.

It's now standard for me to wait in the boys' room after we put them down, because Drew goes ballistic if I don't. Friday night, we changed three variables: the new ceiling fan in their room was installed, it was on, and the installer had moved their cribs and we didn't move them back. Instead of their cribs being against each other, they're now on opposite sides of the room. We figure that'll help curtail the slumber parties, and I think it's done that a little bit.

With all of this change (I guess), Drew was especially needy. After one of my visits, I decided to leave their door open a crack, and that time he was okay. So, the fourth variable might have done the trick. Doing the same thing on subsequent nights (but also after I stay for a few minutes), he seems to be okay, so maybe we're over the worst of it.

There's something very bittersweet about a crying child calling for you specifically. It's nice to be wanted, but ... oy.

Last night was pretty terrible for Liss, as Ellen was up and fussing for three hours in the middle of the night. I was awake for maybe half of it, but she's trying to let me sleep; my getting-back-to-sleep problems have come back, as Friday night showed. After getting Ellen to fall asleep and putting her down after about twenty minutes, I was up for the next hour and a half just twiddling my thumbs.

April 24th+

I don't bother setting my alarm clock. It seems ... redundant.

Liss's milk supply problems continue. One of the worst parts is that it's terribly inconsistent. She'll get 10cc through the pump one time (hope!), and then nothing the next (despair!). There's no way of knowing how much Ellen actually gets when she goes to the boob directly, but at least she usually finds it soothing.

In our continuing efforts to have the boys do things for themselves, we got a few little step stools. The main reason was to have one in the new van, to allow them to use it as a stair to get in on their own. Bobby took to it right away; Drew tries but still needs a little boost.

This morning they both got out of the van with no help for the first time.

Some routines the boys get into, like crying when I start to change them in the morning, are quite annoying, but there are some that are endearing. The most obvious one is when I drop them off at day care - after they put away their coats, they walk over to hug my legs and say "bye bye."

Last night I asked Liss a hypothetical - if the boys had split into triplets instead of just twins, would she have still wanted to try again. She said she probably would have. That's how much she wanted a girl.

The boys don't quite understand the 'twin' thing yet, but they're finally starting to consistently call each other (and more tellingly - themselves) by the correct names ("Doo" and "Bah"). We haven't been holding them up to mirrors so much lately - toothbrush time has suddenly become difficult - but that was still confusing when we were.

Eventually they'll understand that they're a rarity.

Pictures.

Liss with Ellen.
Ellen with the newborn "say what?" brow.
Drew in hoard mode, which is very common for both boys. He's got two crackers, a sippy cup, basketball, and binkie.
Drew and more great parenting on our parts.
Ellen with another of those newborn stares. Her crossed eyes have been getting better.
Ellen again, asleep.
Drew getting brave while Bobby watches.

Last summer it got to 90 degrees in the house at 10pm for a few nights, which was wholly miserable. So, we bought five ceiling fans yesterday - three bedrooms, dining room, and living room. We should have them installed in the next few weeks (before Liss goes back to work). Hopefully they won't freak the boys out, but they probably will at first. For such agents of chaos, they sure don't like change much.

According to her architect father, getting central air conditioning would have been triple the price, but it was still tempting despite being a real rarity here in Seattle. What really tipped the scales in favor of fans was the energy cost.

We knew having three small children would be difficult, but we weren't quite prepared for how all-encompassing it is. I estimate that I spent about two waking hours on Saturday and Sunday not involved in child care. We spent much of that picking up. Amy, bless her, has stuck to her monthly gift of a date night, which has gotten all the more harrowing with Ellen's arrival and nightly witching hours.

We've fallen into a pattern whereby I mostly take care of the boys, and Liss mostly takes care of Ellen - because she can't lift them and I can't nurse her. Liss is hoping that her limitation will be waived during her OB visit this Thursday, but I don't see mine being lifted anytime soon.

This is also my short version for why pictures and updates have not been quickly forthcoming.

April 17th+

Ellen's witching hour is in full effect. From about 7:30 to 10:30, she'll whine and cry and fuss, with little recourse despite our constant efforts. We just end up passing her back and forth so the other can get a break, like eating dinner. It's supposed to end by about the end of May. Yes, please.

Our Boomer parents will be proud of the passive resistance techniques the boys are perfecting.

Liss's mother's response to the next post down:

Wow! Does that post ever bring back memories. At the boys' age, she would ONLY wear her yellow shirt with a big #1 on it.... We would wash it out. Finally Bob asked what could be done to make other shirts acceptable. She decided that if you put the (less desirable) shirt in a brown paper bag and put in just a little water, and shook the bag, that then the alternative shirt would be wearable. But not just any alternative shirt. Good luck. If the yellow shirt is still around, I am sure that one can see right through it.

The boys had a rough weekend, with lots of meltdowns over seemingly nothing. In one case, Drew refused to wear a shirt until I found a particular one - the one he'd worn the previous day - but he didn't have a way to tell me that's what he wanted. That's indicative of what they're going through right now; their brains are coming up with all sorts of ideas and emotions and opinions, but they haven't learned the words to articulate them yet. If these last few days are any indication, it's going to be a rough ride until their mouths catch up. Even then, we might not like what we hear, as "no" has become more and more prevalent lately.

This Monday is my first day commuting to work instead of working from home. Since the boys were still going to day care while I was doing that, the only real difference was that we had gotten into a later routine that got them there at 8:30. Now it's back to 7:30, so that small luxury is gone.

April 10th+

You know that thing immature people do with their cars when someone is about to get in - they lurch it forward just a little bit, forcing that person to chase a little - then stop, start, stop, start, etc?

That's Ellen and sleep. It'll seem like she's out, so you lay her down, and then 5-10 minutes later, she'll start fussing again.

The boys enjoy a good show, such as when I pee. If I announce that I'm going to the bathroom, they'll usually stop what they're doing to join me.

This week there was a new twist, however. They requested it. Drew pointed at the bathroom, looked at me and said "pee?" When I said sure, they went gleeful and walked in ahead of me.

I believe this makes me a public performer of the lowest order. Except for mimes.

From Liss:

After having such a low milk supply with the twins, I did a lot of research about my condition and this time I tried to do everything right.

Some things didn't work out. I was supposed to use natural progesterone cream during the first half of pregnancy, but I didn't get the doctor's OK until week 20. I was supposed to stay naked, skin-to-skin, in the hospital as much as possible, but Ellen ended up in the NICU for 3 days with her breathing issues.

Other than that, I've been vigilant. I pump at least six times a day (in 19 days' worth of pumping I have already read 3 memoirs, probably totaling over 700 pages). I have her feed directly another four or more (though I gave up the supplemental nursing system after 10 days). She latches pretty well, though she's clearly on to me and knows there's an easier way. She doesn't mind the snuggles, though. I'm taking herbs: fenugreek, thistle, borage, goat's rue; I've also been taking domperidone from a Mystery Internet Source since it's not FDA-approved.

With all that, I still only make about an ounce per day. One ounce. When the lactation consultant weighed her to see how much she was getting from direct breastfeeding, it was 2 grams. We both agreed that she's probably actually getting more, but still not much. Is it worth it? My mother, friends, the LC, they all praise my efforts, say "It's really about the antibodies," which is true enough. "Breastfeeding is love!" trumpet the posters in the LC's office, proclaim the parenting websites. Sure. The bonding argument bugs me more, as if I haven't properly bonded with the boys since I couldn't even try to put them on the boob.

But here's the weirdest thing: Even if I've pumped and fed the baby 2.5 hours before, I wake up every morning with my shirt soaked through with milk. It happens during the day, too, if I'm not careful. I wish I could wring that out for her--it seems such a waste, but what can I do? I know what They would say: stay naked and just keep her on the boob 100% of the time: it's the sign of a mother's love. Well, this mother needs company sometimes, needs to get out of the house sometimes, and is shy about flaunting her dysfunctional breasts and puffy, pasty, postpartum belly. So, no.

It bothers me so much for so many reasons: it's natural, it's something Women Are Supposed To Do. I've never been a huge fan of my boobs anyway and, turns out, I was right to scorn them. Everyone else can do it, why can't I? But there's also this: I have never worked so hard at something I wanted, only to fail this spectacularly.

(I can hear you: You're not failing. Well, but I am, and honesty hurts less than misplaced optimism.)

So I don't know how this will go. I'm willing to keep trying for now--it's not that arduous when the boys aren't home and I'm not working. A research-minded friend with a 4-month-old told me she'd read that domperidone doesn't always work in the first month. Okay, so I'll keep going until then. Or until I go back to work. Or until summer, when the boys quit daycare. Maybe it will get better; likely, it won't. I've been trying to convince myself I'd rather be able to make babies than feed them, since we have easy alternatives for feeding. Isn't that a healthy attitude? A fake attitude, for now, but I'm working on it.

Drew had a bad night Monday, but Tuesday was just awful. It's one thing to not sleep, but quite another to constantly scream instead. It's bad enough that Liss dug up a toddler sleep book we've had for a while but haven't needed to really study.

To Bobby's credit, he didn't join in, even though it was obvious that Drew was keeping him awake some of the time.

Just in the last couple of days, I've started coddling the boys a little less. Last night, Drew was being whiny in bed, which happens to both of them - and a little more often lately. Usually one of us will go soothe the crier after a while, which I generally seem to be better at doing. After doing so last night with Drew, though, he started up again. The next time I went in, I told him it was time to sleep, time to be quiet, and good night. I didn't hear anything else from that room until morning.

This touches on somethihg that Liss mentioned recently - back when we started, we both thought I would be the good cop to her bad cop. The way things are shaping up, however, that doesn't appear to be the case. I guess the gist is that I'm ready for these guys to start being more self-sufficient.

The boys' personalities are diverging - Bobby's becoming more defiant. He's been working on a 'look' that can be described as disdainful. He'll touch people aggressively, continuing when told to stop. I had to put him in time out twice this morning, which is a new-ish thing, but so far has worked well.

Ellen's settled into her witching hour, that's for sure. Last night it was 7-11. Unlike with the boys, we can take turns with her and give each other breathers, but it's still a bad way to spend an evening. It may have been related that she then slept until 3:30, but as I said at the time, it wasn't worth it.

The boys have slept with these bears since they were tiny, and have gotten attached to them. They had four between them, but we've misplaced one and had lost another for a bit. In a minor panic, we bought four more. We introduced them during the normal routine, and ... no dice. They saw right through our little ruse. I hope we find that fourth original soon.

Twenty-one months old.

April 3rd+

"I ghee?"
"I ghee?"
"I ghee?"

"No, boys, we're not having ice cream for breakfast."

The boys were born so small that they went to the pediatrician every week or two for the first few months, just to make sure they were gaining weight and hitting their developmental milestones. After her two-week, Ellen doesn't go in again until she's two months old - the end of May. Looks like we're going to have to break out the kitchen scale again.

From last June:

One reason for me to want a girl next is the diaper situation. Based on my own observational experience, girls don't poop.

... I stand corrected.

"His cup bunneth over?"

Bobby's had some pretty bad diarrhea for a couple of days - bad enough that their day care lady has been on the cusp of sending him home. The worst part is that he's gone in his overnight diaper the last two nights, filling them from front to back. Ew.

At her two-week checkup, Ellen measured 8#8 and 19.5". Those were both quite a bit more than just five days prior (8#2, 18.25"), so I'm not sure how much I trust either set. The important thing is that she's getting bigger, and she's certainly behaving like it.

Ellen has definitely begun her first growth spurt. Oy.

Videos.

[+] The boys being silly during cooking time.
[+] (long) The boys are introduced to Ellen. Notice how they cling to their mother pretty soon into it.
[+] (long) The boys shootin' some hoops. Drew's graduated from dunking.
[+] Ellen sucking on my knuckle. She, uh, doesn't do much else yet.
[+] (long) The boys invent some odd "tornado sheet" game. You're welcome to tune out at 1:45, when it gets boring.

With DNA testing a standard crime-fighting tactic these days, it's worth noting that identical twins can render it moot.

Pictures.

Ellen and her little feet.
Bobby from behind.
Drew and Bobby each helping feed Ellen.
Ellen with Grandma.
Ellen, and again.
Bob being curious.
Drew with blue eyes and berries.

We have a simple picture book of animals - one per page, with the kind of animal in a caption on the bottom. They like it, but it's not very interesting to us, so we sometimes mix it up a little bit. For the 'piglet' page, I'd sometimes say "Mmm ... bacon!"

The little piglet is now called an "Mmm!"

March 27th+

Ellen had her first well-baby visit, which was mostly uneventful. She'd gained back one ounce of her discharge weight, to 8#2.

The only weirdness was her height measurement. In the OR, they got 20". Here, after four attempts, they settled on 18.25". Assuming the OR was wrong, it means she's even chunkier than before - mathematically, at least.

Ellen's definitely starting to express her opinions more, i.e. stay awake and fuss about things we don't get. We had our first 'witching hour' last evening.

On the plus side, she's only woken once on each of the past two nights.

So far, Ellen sleeps 18-20 hours a day. She'll usually wake up to eat, only stay awake because we're changing her diaper and/or clothes, and then drift back.

Skills that I've retained since the boys were newborns:

Filling a bottle with exactly n ounces of water, in the dark, based on the sound it makes while filling. I should put this on my resume.
Soothing a fussy baby.
Wrapping a miracle blanket.
Burping (the baby, not myself. Well, okay, I've kept that one, too).

Skills I've lost:

Swaddling, though it's coming back to me. Liss never lost it.
Peeing while holding her. Experience will out.
Slings, but I never really had it anyway.
Going back to sleep after a night feeding, but we already knew that.

Sunday night: Up at 12:30, 3:00 and 5:30.
Monday night: 2:00, 5:30.

We've been taking her up with us at our bedtime, but she's been sleeping downstairs while we unwind after the boys are down. In all, she's been sleeping at least 18 hours a day, and eating during most of the wakeful periods. There's another twin-club sale in April, during which we'll look for a second baby monitor, after which we'll probably start putting her down upstairs at an earlier bedtime.

The important thing is that she'll usually just eat and go back to sleep, though there have been a few fussy episodes. As Liss puts it, it's not so terrible. Each twin was worse than her at first, so we have that baseline, and she's only one.

A silver lining to the scheduled c-section: Ellen had been showing no signs of wanting to come out. She was already a pound more than estimated, and chunky; if Liss had waited her out, it's no inconceivable that she would have gone on long enough to have to push out a monster baby.

I had a running joke while Ellen was in the hospital. Whenever we'd mention her brothers, I'd speak for her with ".... my whatnow?"

Some notes about Ellen so far.

She's an eater, and has excellent suction.
She hates having her diaper changed.
So far it's pretty much sleep, eat, sleep, eat.
She'll reach the boys' current age around Christmas 2011. They'll be three and a half. It feels like a long, long time away.

March 20th+ - 39 weeks

Sorry this is coming on E+4. The hospital's wireless restricts secure logins, which updating this site requires.

So, Ellen is here. The story starts out pretty mundane; we went in early Thursday morning for the scheduled c-section, got a room, and got ready. However, another woman's labor was going badly enough to warrant an emergency c-section, so we got bumped. I had time to be amused by this sign next to the operating room. Instead of 8am or so, we waited around for a while, and Ellen came at 11:52am on 3/25.

The first thing the nurses said when she came out - she's one large girl, at 8 lbs. 6 oz. and 20" in length. Note the rolls of fat on her. Eating for two, indeed. Her Apgar score was 8 of 9 at both 1 and 5 minutes, losing a point for having purple-ish hands and feet, which went away after a while.

So things looked good, they sewed up Liss, and sent us to our room with a nurse. If you're going to try to breastfeed, you're supposed to try as soon as possible, so we did. Ellen was hooked up to a portable monitor that showed her oxygen saturation levels dropping to worrisome levels when she fed ... then when she rested ... then when she cried. So, a couple of hours after birth, she was moved to the level 2 NICU (I call it the NICU-lite) for observation, and admitted soon after.

So here we were, parents of twins born at 5 lbs. and 4 lbs. 3 oz. that didn't need help, and a baby twice the size who did. Compared to the other babies in the ward - mostly pre-term births - she was a hulk.

Since they weren't sure what was causing the problem, and it might have been an infection, they started her on some antibiotics with an IV. When those results came back a couple of days later, however, they were negative. She had a nose tube with a little oxygen just to help her along. The prevaling theory is that there was fluid in her lungs that she needed to work out of her system. In all, it was probably the mildest NICU case ever. Here she is with a few wires, but the real point of that picture is to show how much hair she had at birth, and how dark it is. The boys didn't have that much until maybe their first birthdays, and very fine blonde. However, hers is very soft.

One oddity - we were moved to the NICU floor before we knew if she was being admitted or not. It was just that they needed to make room on the birthing floor, but since no doctor had updated us yet, we didn't know what it meant, if anything. That ties to another thing we noticed - outside the NICU, we barely saw the same nurses or doctors twice. It seemed like a stranger was always walking in our door for one reason or another. Part of it was because we were there over a weekend, and switched floors, but still.

Liss was discharged Saturday night, so we ended up going home without Ellen. By then we knew what it would take for Ellen to be discharged - no desat alarms for 24 hours - so we just had to hope for that. As it turned out, she passed that mark Sunday morning, and we went back to get her (after dressing her).

Now, the boys love babies, so they were naturally curious about this new arrival. However, I think they sensed that we were treating her a little differently than the other babies that just visit. It didn't take them long to take turns regressing. They were attention-starved and whiny all day.

Speaking of all day, that's pretty much how long Ellen slept. The overnight shift showed why - she's nocturnal. We're going to have to do something about that.

And here are two more pictures - one of Liss's mother with Ellen, who took this picture of her, and another of her face while resting with Amy.

Catching up, here are some pre-Ellen pictures.

Drew states the obvious.
Both wearing sweaters our friend Kess knit them, Bob on the left. At the rate they boys growing, they'll still fit next winter.
Both trying to "share" their truck, Drew on the left. By "share," I mean one started playing on it and the other horned in, no pun intended.
Both nude-ish in my lap. Your guess of who's who is just as good as mine.
Both with Liss, reading, Bob on the left.
Drew naked on the changing table, with the Hand of Fatherly Modesty.

Long-time readers of this thing may have noticed that I've been a lot less "doomsday" about this pregnancy than the boys'. Simply put, twin pregnancies are a lot more perilous, more likely fatal or defective, usually early, twinnage means a higher SIDS risk, etc, etc. Relatively speaking, a singleton pregnancy is a cakewalk^(*), especially after you hit the preemie milestones.

Of course, that doesn't mean everything will be perfect. It's just that after being put through the wringer of worry last time, the odds favor us this time. It also helps that the boys came out as well as they did.

^(*) Right now, Liss is throwing something at her computer monitor.

Lately bath time is torture for them, and torture for our ears. Drew is the worse of the two - last night he started crying before I put him in - but Bobby definitely still doesn't like having his head washed.

However, if you run a faucet, they'll insist on running their hands under the water.

Dorks.

Something we're seeing more often now that the weather is warmer and we keep the windows open - the boys notice sounds. If a dog barks somewhere outside, they'll say "daw?" for dog. Same with "bee" for a car honking or the microwave beeping a floor away. In other words, they're connecting a sound with an object even though they can't see the object. It's just one of those developmental things to look for. In fact - probably because we're so accustomed to such white noise - they notice those sounds better than we do.

The flip side is that is that they don't like a lot of sounds - the fan above the stove, my electric razor, the vacuum cleaner ... even the fans in the bathroom ceilings. We have to balance their reactions with the immediate need to use whatever it is.

A similar part of this age seems to be that they will ask if something is what they think it is until you acknowledge yes or no. For instance, they have a book with dozens of cartoony drawings of cars in it, with animals driving them. They will flip to random pages, point at one of the cars, and ask "caw? caw? caw? caw?" until you say "yes, that's a car." A simple "yes" is insufficient. If there's a cat driving the car, the next question will be "kee? kee? kee?" until you say "Yes, kitty." Sunday I must have said those two sentences a combined one hundred times in twenty minutes.

I keep having to remind myself that older children don't behave that way, and that "this too shall pass."

I plan to spend most of the ~three days that Liss and Ellen are in the hospital with them, but with a trip or two home to see the boys and help their Grandma put them to bed. Between that and caring for Ellen and getting some sleep myself, I should still have time to post pictures and keep my pools updated. :-D

They say you're supposed to bring something with a new baby's scent to help prepare pets before the arrival; maybe I'll show the boys some pictures of Ellen to do the same for them. However, they still won't differentiate between the many pictures of babies they've already seen and that this one is ... permanent. I guess I should have pictures of her with Liss to maybe bridge that gap, but I don't think it's really going to hit home for them until she's been there a week or so. Here's hoping they react positively - or at least neutrally.

Same with the cat, for that matter.

Well, here we are - 39 weeks. Ellen will come this week, whether on her own or by force.

We still haven't packed for the hospital. Or reinstalled the newborn car seat.

March 13th+ - 38 weeks

Thursday OB visit: "Still boring, BP fine, size estimate 7.5ish, no other news."

The boys' sleep has been back to normal for the past few days (knock on wood), and their random meltdowns have subsided, so maybe the worst of that era is over.

We've pretty much stopped counting how many words they can say. A lot of it is still just mimicking the sounds, but a lot of it isn't.

Because we would never do such a thing in purpose, we had the TV going when the local news broadcast began on our local Fox affiliate. It began - literally - with the phrase that has become so cliché and indicative of our times: "It's every parent's worst nightmare!" Having heard such things before, we figured it was something pretty heinous - some form of unimaginable violence, a kidnapping, disappearance, molestation, etc.

No, it was nothing like that. As it turns out, day cares keep supplies of pumped breast milk on hand, given by and marked with the names of the children's mothers. The director of one of the day cares had accidentally fed one kid the milk from another mother.

It's entirely possible that you're squicked out by this, and that's okay. But to have it be a "parent's worst nightmare!," and the lead story? I'd say that's hyperbole at best, and ignorant, irresponsible scare reporting at best.

For some perspective, our lack of wet nursing is a very Western thing. From the link, it was common here until the 1950s. This incident is but a toe in the water compared to how things used to be.

In our case, since Liss had production problems, our doula brought frozen milk from another client who made too much. We thawed it out and fed it to our boys. Sure, it was a little weird, but only because it was a new concept to us. In fact, breast milk costs a lot of money, so that was a nice free gift.

Anyway, it stuck with us as an example of the supposed dangers to our children that aren't really dangers, and the alarmist hand-wringing that accompanies them.

To do.

~~Finish her National Board portfolios~~
~~Black out the windows~~
~~Pedicure and hair color (her, not me)~~
~~Schedule c-section~~
~~Hope there's no need for a c-section~~
Pack for the hospital
Tie up loose ends at our jobs
Manage three concurrent online pools
Prepare spaces for Ellen's clothing
Re-establish spaces for bottles and their paraphernalia
Welcome Liss's mother
Have the baby
Panic

Sunday we all went upstairs to replace three bedrooms' worth of curtains with the blackout kind. With summer approaching, we figure the boys will start giving us the "but it's light out!" bedtime defense, plus I think morning sunlight might be contributing to my sleep problems.

After we were done putting them up, Liss and I lay on our bed while the boys explored a little. Things got a bit too quiet, so I went to check on them. They had gotten my hairbrush off the counter, which isn't uncommon, as they (especially Drew) like to mimic its usage. This time, however, he was using it to stir the toilet, which I had failed to lock. Keep in mind that we follow the "if it's yellow, let it mellow" school of water conservation.

It's a good thing I looked, because they know to put the hairbrush back when they're done with it.

From the "be careful what you wish for" department, this age is mostly fun, but I'm ready for the next.

Besides, we'll go through all this again with Ellen.

Free American Idol and March Madness pools are open, for you games people.

One day isn't a pattern, all right. Oy.

March 6th+ - 37 weeks

The boys were their old pleasant selves Friday morning. One day isn't a pattern, but here's hoping it's the beginning of the end of this rough patch.

Two weeks or less to go.

Liss's mom thought of something we hadn't: "Ellen may have her brothers coming to get you every time she cries."

That might make sleep training ... interesting.

'... four people have commented this morning: "You look like you've dropped!"'

Husbands, don't try this at home. I'm a professional.

[One twin intermittently wakes, cries, and goes back to sleep from 4-6am.]
"What's up with your son waking up so much?"
"Wait, what about your son?"
...
"He's been asleep this whole time!"

The boys have had a pretty rough couple of weeks. Besides being congested and snotty a lot more than before, their sleep has suffered here and there - mostly one of them waking up early, sitting up and crying while his brother sleeps. After a few minutes to make sure, I'll go in and hold and whisper to him for a while, which usually works fine. It actually hasn't been horrible - it's just that they were doing so well before.

A small part of me wants to let them sleep in our bed, but that's just not practical. Besides that they might get addicted to the idea and refuse cribs thereverafter, our double bed is already housing two adults, a cat, and a fetus.

Similarly, they've been more high strung during waking hours, losing their composure at little things that didn't bother them a couple of months ago. One of the sure-fire ways to set them off is to change their overnight diaper in the morning, which I think they take to mean we're getting them ready for day care (which is usually correct).

This may or may not just be the latest growth spurt, after which they're supposed to enter a New Era of self-awareness - vocabulary skyrockets, articulation clears up, they don't get rattled as easily, etc. I certainly hope so, and I really hope they're over this by the time Ellen gets here and rocks their predictable little world.

We finally got batteries for the van's keychain fobs. I probably shouldn't be as jazzed as I am about how it automatically opens the sliding side doors.

February 27th+ - 36 weeks

Pictures and video.

Bob chilling.
As part of our ongoing "get used to babies" efforts, a friend brought his newborn son over. Bobby didn't quite get the helplessness angle, trying to get him to take a whiffle ball. Later, shirt off for no known reason, he asked to sit with him.
For the last two days, we've let them go down the stairs to the back porch to explore and play. The slope to the bushes scares them, which is useful. However, the fence to the left has a gap in the bottom, so I anticipate a lot of balls rolling under in the future.
[+] They warn you about this - Liss was frustrated by the film on the boys' yogurt, and said "crap" once. Bobby took it from there.
[+] Dad the DJ.

"The biggest difference between two and three kids is that you switch your defense from man-to-man to zone."

A new thing - the boys hold our hands while we walk. It takes very little prompting - one will walk off a ways, I'll call out for him to take my [extended] hand, and he'll come back and hold it. Sometimes they even take the initiative. For us, it's very useful for keeping them nearby, but mostly I just think it's sweet.

This also affords us the opportunity, when each of us has one's hand, to pick up and swing him.

Liss's idea for helping the boys transition to older-brotherhood is to have them help out. They're already generally helpful in a lot of ways, so this shouldn't be too difficult to get going. Having them involved will reinforce that helpfulness while getting them precious attention.

The boys definitely have their little obsessions:

Balloons, one of their first. "BAOOOO!" It was probably the first thing they started pointing out in their books.

Cars. When we're on a walk, they point out every car and vocalize it with "caaaaaa?" They ask to ride in the car. As we strap them in, they let us know that they're in a car. Driving along, they'll still point out other cars, though thankfully not all of them. Trucks are cars. Motorcycles are cars. Trains are cars.

Lights. If a light is off, they want it on. If it's on, they go "hite!" and point at it.

Babies. Their "beh-BEEEE?" sounds French. They like them and are curious about them, but all of their baby interactions have been fleeting. We'll see if their baby-love sticks around when a certain baby does.

The moon. This is a minor one for now, because they can't see it very often; their bedtime is too early. They know about it, though, and have seemingly made the connection between the real "moo" and the ones in their books.

Cats. We have this book, which has elaborately-drawn dinosaurs on every page, a few people, toys, etc. They never point to anything until the last page, which has a small cat on a bed, about 5% of the size of its dinosaur. "KITTY!"

Swings, specifically the ones at local parks. They'll sometimes ask me "WHEEE?" when I pick them up from day care. They'll point them out when we drive by a park. When we get to one, all they want to do is have us push them while they observe the older kids. Bob will go "whee?" when he wants me to push him higher. I predict a lot of swinging as the weather gets warmer and evenings stay lit longer.

So. It's March.

Sometime this month, I'm going to have a little girl.

A baby daughter.

Um.

Yeah.

In like a lamb, out like a lioness.

February 20th+ - 35 weeks

From Liss:

Tomorrow marks 35 weeks, 6 days of this pregnancy--the gestational date I delivered the boys. This time, though:

My rings still fit
My shoes still fit
My blood pressure has been 115/60 all week
My lab tests keep coming back normal
I can and do still tromp up the stairs at work several times per day

So maybe baby girl won't get kicked out early after all. My back hurts, my hips really hurt--are they spreading? She's in a good position; am I tough enough for a VBAC too?

I finished my last paper for my Boards, and tomorrow I'm supposed to drive to Tacoma for a peer-editing session (meh) and information about the June assessment center piece (which I could really use). I haven't been cooking or cleaning or arranging baby clothes (hell, we still don't know where her clothes are going to go), I've been writing. No, it's not a traditional way to nest; but I'm seldom accused of being particularly traditional.

One of the sweeter things the boys will do (as shown in this picture) is sit next to each other. That is, one will sit with a book or whatever, and the other will find something of his own and then go plop down next to his brother.

The hospital shuffled everyone for some reason, so the scheduled c-section is now on March 25th instead of the 24th.

Bob's developed a runny nose. Fortunately, he knows exactly what to do - wipe it off with his hand. What happens to it after that is immaterial.

A woman in Liss's PEPS group has twin girls about the same age as the boys, who are even smaller. She took them to a pediatric nutritionist, who basically said to try to sneak as much fat into their food as possible - feed them butter straight up, let them have ice cream every night, etc.

Liss spends a lot of effort trying to do the exact opposite - removing fat/sugar/salt while keeping things tasty. The irony is not lost on her.

The boys are addicted to their binkies. Ad-dic-ted. I'm talkin' hard-core, Betty Ford Clinic needin', hit your arm lookin' for a vein, sellin' yer class ring for a hit addicted.

However, they work. They soothed the savage babies, and now the savage toddlers. Therefore, we have to assume that Ellen will use them similarly, so there will be binkies aplenty for a while, so ... no need to wean them yet.

I smack Liss's butt all the time, but this weekend I noticed Drew staring at us one time while I did it. That brought to mind a scenario whereby they go to kindergarten and proudly announce that "daddy hits mommy." Adding to the fun is that they're very likely to attend the elementary school where she works.

Pictures and video.

Liss at 35 weeks. Compare this to the twin pregnancy at the same time. I also like this new one because it has the blurry boys, which definitely adds something to my oeuvre.
Both lazing about.
Drew with a Nerf basketball. Note the winter coat to complement the lack of pants.
[+] Playing in their tent. What you can't see is me telling Bob "no" after his smack of Drew's forehead.
[+] By request, a couple of words - "meat" and "please," with our prompting. They use the "thank you" sign (open hand to mouth) for "please," but that's okay. The hand to mouth with fingers together (the first sign Bobby does) mean "eat," though he quickly changes to their "please."

February 13th+ - 34 weeks

From Liss:

I can't help it: I'm a teacher. I see what happens when kids' parents don't talk to them (we do!) or when they don't get early intervention if there are problems. All kids develop at different rates, some of the smartest people talk late, boys talk late, twins talk late. Check. Still, you can't blame me for having worried when 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16 months went by with no words.

The milestones, for what they're worth, are 1 word at age 1, a dozen at 18 months, 50 words and some 2-word constructions by age 2. I think I can stop worrying now.

Signs:
eat, more, milk, thank you, water

Understandable by anyone:
Mama, Daddy, binky, no, yeah, up, down, moon, baby, knee, nose, ball, hi, bye-bye

Understandable by us, usually:
kitty, dog, car, shoes, socks, mouth, eye, cracker, bunny, juice, meat, swing ("whee!"), coat, Drew (only B), book, cook, penis (you knew that would make the 50), diaper, poop, pee, pillow, spoon, eat, keys, read, pants, button, hot (always followed by puffing), light, balloooon!, teeth

2-word constructions (Bobby):
Car! Baby! (the day after visiting Baby H--we are trying to make Babies seem like The Awesomest Thing Ever, and H is a good test subject)
Drew, hi! (after we'd "divided and conquered" for an afternoon and B was missing his bro, he said that all the way home)

And they understand plenty more. It's pretty cool watching them turn into little people.

(They probably have several more that we just haven't deciphered yet.)

Unless something happens with the scheduling office, Liss will be set for a c-section on Wednesday, March 24th.

Of course, this assumes that Ellen waits that long. If not, Liss will probably try labor for a while - to signal the body to produce milk - then decide on a c-section versus VBAC.

From the OB visit, Ellen is now head-down in birthing position. Liss's blood pressure is still a little high, but not enough for them to cry foul yet. If she goes pre-eclamptic again, this whole process will be sped up real quick.

Whereas Bobby was extra fussy last week, Drew is this week. Meanwhile, Bob's been very pleasant.

The new stuff with Drew is that he'll start wailing when we leave them at bedtime. He also did it this morning when I left him in the kitchen to go to the bathroom. It might be a residual effect of being away for two days, but that might be a leap.

To calm him last night, I went in to pick him up and carry him for a while. It didn't really work until I hummed a long, low note with him against my chest. I figure it works on his mother, so why not him? In this case it did the trick, and - after several more of those - I was able to put him back down without incident.

The whole time, Bobby just lay in his crib, eyes wide open, sucking his pacifier once in a while. It's a good thing these meltdowns usually only occur one-twin-at-a-time, especially when their other parental unit is out of the house.

From Liss:

We're back from Portland. I'm very relaxed.

We left on Saturday morning, managing to sneak out the back door while the boys were playing with the shoes by the front. I'm sure they were mad when they realized we were gone, but we didn't have to deal with it. We took the train down on Saturday morning, which was an excellent idea--so relaxing, so easy.

Highlights:
- Three trips to Powell's, many used and one new book purchased for ourselves and others
- Sleeping in until 7 and 8, which probably doesn't sound like much if you're not the parent of a toddler or two
- The last two movies we'll see in a theatre for a very long time: The Young Victoria and An Education. (We decided we're like Victoria and Albert, except for our utter lack of power. And the part where we won't be having any 9 children--I'm too old to be the liberal Duggars.)
- NO Valentine's Day reservations or rip-offs: street food, coffee shops, Voodoo Donuts, and the $20 "Cheap Date" special at Kenny and Zuke's
- Instead of spending money on traditional romantic stuff we picked up cute Dansko sandals, tax-free
- Lots of walking, plenty of lazing
- The boys met us gleefully upon our return, said "Daddy" and "Mama" and wrestled us to the ground
- At my request, Grandpa cut their hair in our absence.

- Best of all (mostly): continued pregnancy.

I'm off work all week. I meet with my Boards mentor tomorrow afternoon, then spend the rest of the week editing my 3 portfolios. The goal is to have everything ready to mail by the end of the month. If I get enough done by Thursday, I'll take time for a pedicure after Friday's OB appointment: all the better to show off the new sandals, my dear.

February 6th+ - 33 weeks

In just the last few days, Bob's pronounciation of "binky" has started to actually sound like "binky," to the point that a stranger could probably tell what he means. His "k" sounds like "k" instead of "ch." They're supposed to have at least 50 words by July, and I think they're around 20 now. It becomes a snowball effect at a certain point, but they're not there yet.

He's been quite a pill the last few days - clingy, fussy, inconsolably whiny, wants to be held more often, etc. These are the signs of a growth spurt, though it may just be from teething pain. I'm going with the growth spurt, though, because of the "binky" thing. Fortunately, he's been sleeping just fine.

Not that this has anything to do with the children, except it's more or less my only hobby these days, but this year's free Oscar pool is open for business.

From Liss:

As the story goes, I was born 2 months early. Knowing what I do now about prematurity, especially in the dark ages of 70s, I doubt I was quite that early, because I went home with my parents less than a week later. So either I was a miracle or let's go with 4-6 weeks early, but still--a 4-something-pounder.

This came about because my mother was on a business trip to Milwaukee, WI--one state over. They still smoked at work then, and she was allergic, and somewhere during the meeting she coughed so hard her water broke. Voila--a baby.

I've never been back to Milwaukee. We're going to do a baseball road trip someday, and maybe we'll drive by St. Whoever's (either Mary or Joseph) Hospital and give a little wave.

In the meantime, I've been thinking about this lately because James and I will be going to Portland, OR--one state over--this weekend. I have a completely irrational fear that this girl will take after her mother and arrive at ~34 weeks in the wrong city. I'm gonna panic every time I cough this weekend.

More than that, though, I'm getting excited about the trip. I'm on track to have all the drafts of my Boards finished by then and the rule is No Work. My parents are flying in to take care of the boys.^* We'll laze about the hotel room and go to Powell's and see some movies and eat^** and ... I don't know, do other stuff you suggest. We haven't decided whether to train or drive, but it might be getting a bit late for that.

But first, this week of work. And Boards. I'd write more often, but that's all I'd talk about so, just say, "Oh, Liss is playing with toddlers and working on her Boards."

^* they'd been planning for years (yes, pre-twins-conception) to come to let us go to the Olympics, but I'm too pregnant and James doesn't have the time and we can't spare that much money. So, Portland.
^** where? James is cheap and boring^***, I am moderate and flexible.
^*** which I say in the most loving way--he'll admit it himself!

Nineteen months old.

Bob's pronounciation of 'binky' sounds a lot like 'bitch.' Or, if you prefer, 'beach.'

This is a very common sequence of events:

One twin gets an idea.
He does something about it.
Other twin thinks that's the best idea ever.
He does something about it.

This is fine when it's something like "milk sounds good right about now" or "I think go I'll downstairs and play with dad's shoes for the hell of it," because there's no sharing necessary. It's not so nice when there's only one of something, and twin 2 will grab - or worse, hit and grab. For the most part, it just means trying to have two of everything especially cool, or getting good at redirecting their attention.

However, I've also learned to use this to my advantage. I love having them sit in my lap, so all it usually takes is for me to convince one of them that it's a good idea. Or, once one of them starts to put on his coat, the other will soon follow. You get the idea.

This morning I noticed that Bob's top "gap" teeth are just starting to poke the gumline. I didn't have time to check Drew.

On a similar note, Liss gave them each a small apple, and Bob was able to bite into it with no help. Drew needed me to "prime" his with a single bite, but he was fine after that.

Two blue cups of sippy
Held the juice of moo
Two nights past one vanished full
This morn was found as goo

January 30th+ - 32 weeks

From Liss:

The daughter I've imagined for at least 30 years is only a few weeks from birth. Don't tell anyone, but I'm getting completely terrified.

If this baby comes as early as the boys did (my BP has been up a bit, though not scarily yet), that's 3 weeks from now. It's only 2 weeks left of work, since we have mid-winter break the week after next. I know there's no way to know, but I kinda feel like we have to be READY by then: work good to go, Boards basically done, teeny diapers acquired, cradle back upstairs, newborn clothes located, plan made.

Plan made, that's the hard part.

I still haven't decided whether to go for a VBAC, go into labor and have a C-section, or schedule a C/S. Labor would help with milk, but a) I'm resigned to not making enough anyway and b) the phrase "uterine rupture" is pretty scary even if it is only 1% odds. C-section is a known experience, and the last one wasn't nearly as bad as I'd feared. I think that's what I want, I just wish I wanted the VBAC more. My mom would come deal with the boys if we schedule it, but there's no guarantee the baby will wait for the schedule. Otherwise, we have to figure out who can take care of the boys when, and where. And ask them to do it. And have their stuff in order so taking care of them is as easy as possible.

And then have 3 kids.

I'm ecstatic and relieved ... and completely terrified.

Almost every night, there's a mini slumber party in the cribs after we put the boys to bed. Sometimes it's fleeting, but other times it lasts 90 minutes or so. We'd be okay with that if we saw any correlation between falling asleep later and getting up later, but we haven't. We don't want to go in to shush them, because our entrance might just wake them up further - and give them incentive to party again next time - but we'll probably have to start doing so as they mature.

Just a quick reposting of this link to emphasize the importance of 32 weeks.

It's a long, gradual process, but it's getting easier. The boys are getting good at communicating what they want, and will often (but not always) accept when they can't get it. The dreaded 18-month sleep regression hasn't really materialized, though a couple of friends' kids didn't have theirs until 21 or so. In general, they're of good cheer, just go with the flow, and seem to enjoy our and each other's company.

Of course, Ellen may shatter all of this.

Pictures.

Both on the counter, "helping" make breakfast, Bob on the right, looking silly. Note how it's getting time for the dreaded first haircut.
Bob with a spent toilet paper roll. Reduce, reuse, recycle!
Both with Mom, Drew in the foreground.
Drew in my lap. They both will stand, crounch, stand, etc. while I encourage.
Bob reminding the readers that it's not all cuteness and fun. We get about four of these meltdowns a day on the weekends.
They've recently rediscovered their tunnel, Drew in the foreground.
Bob and I. We were watching Bolt, which was just the latest in a long list of evidence that the television calms them down. Liss is horrified at her own compliance.
Artistic closeups of Drew (one, two) after he'd calmed down following a meltdown.
Drew does his Martha Washington impersonation.

January 23rd+ - 31 weeks

Some friends brought over their 6-week-old son last night. The boys were attentive and interested. After all, he was a novelty, then they went to bed, and he was gone in the morning.

Ellen, however, will stick around. After all these fleeting experiences with other babies, that might be a shocker. Lots of toddlers regress when a new baby comes, including "loss" of words or other milestones, so we need to be alert. They already help around the house some - fetching or putting away clothes or diapers - so we can try to get them to help with Ellen as a way to cope. Fortunately, unlike most first-borns, they at least have each other.

We ordered a couple of practice potties. While they're not ready for potty training, it doesn't hurt to have the apparati around so they get used to them, and it's not some sudden scary thing when the time comes. For all we know, they'll enjoy mimicking us like they do with other things. We still use the restroom in front of them sometimes, so they know the drill.

One question was, do we get one or two? If experience is any indication, they'll both get attached to one of them and ignore the other. However, I went ahead and got two - one for upstairs and one down.

In about two years, Ellen will get the worst hand-me-downs of her life.

The boys have picked up the word 'mama' in the last couple of days, specifically to ask where she is. In other words, they don't say it often in front of her, but I heard it ten times yesterday. Fortunately, they both said it this morning as I carried them downstairs - where she was - so she got to hear it. Unlike previous nebulous usage, it now means what it's supposed to mean.

She says they're the same way with 'dada.'

We're starting to figure out the logistics of Ellen's birth. When it was the boys, all we really had to do was put food in the cat dish. This time, there are two toddlers to consider. Labor and delivery could conceivably take two days and nights, and then 2-3 days of recovery and getting Ellen's initial tests done, etc. Day care will help, but I'll still have to split my time between being home with them or in the hospital with "my girls" during recovery, and not home at all during delivery.

Anyway, we're going over what-ifs, and all this is one more factor in favor of a c-section, which sounds highly Western culture in the "life must go according to my plan!" sort of way. "Major surgery instead of natural birth? Well, if we could do it during her Spring break ..."

Friday's OB appointment was pretty boring, as they should be. Now that things are getting close, she'll be going every other week for a while, and then every week starting around March 1.

Half the time they talked about the pros and cons of VBAC versus another c-section. She's on the fence, but later said she might be talking herself into a c-section. What probably pushed her was his description of uterine rupture in 1% of VBAC cases.

She's also getting a referral to a lactation consultant who has an M.D., as she's very underwhelmed by her provider's normal cadre, and will probably need prescriptions to produce.

No ultrasound, but the heart monitor picked up Ellen just fine, beating right at 140 bpm where it should be.

The boys had their quarterly checkup and blood draw for the diabetes study they're in. They get unofficial stats - Drew came in at 21 pounds (with clothes) and Bobby at 20.5, with both up to 29.5".

They said that their young patients tend to notice that "this is that place that causes me pain" around 18-24 months, and Drew fit the bill; he started crying when we walked into the foyer. Bob caught on later, especially when the nurse put on her gloves, which triggered both of them to wail. That was nothing compared to the actual blood draws, which are bad enough when they can hit a vein (Bob), but worse when they can't and have to prick and squeeze the foot (Drew).

During Drew's draw, two of the employees were alternately blowing bubbles or shaking a toy to distract him from the pain, which kind of worked, but he was still screaming. On the way home, I opined that if someone were causing me great physical pain, I wouldn't take too kindly to someone blowing bubbles to distract me from it. To counter, Liss tried to think of the adult male equivalent, and asked if I were in that situation, would I really yell "get those boobs out of my face!"?

She had a point.

We got a used minivan on Sunday, which is just the latest of many admissions that the children have taken/are taking over our lives. Neither of our sedans could have fit two boosters and an infant seat, so here we are. The idea is to have this one last seven years (it's an '01), then get another until they're out of the nest and/or driving their own. We both usually drive cars until they quit on us - my car's a '96, and her old one a '99 - so we aren't the kind to get antsy for newness.

In cleaning out her old car, we found quite a bit of nostalgia. It was archaeology, but messier; all I needed was a pith helmet. Unfortunately, the dealer lowballed us on the trade-in, so we'll probably donate it.

This purchase seems to be one of those bellweather events that people dread, for the reason I mentioned above, especially men. Maybe it's that I've never been a Car Is An Extension Of My Manhood guy, but it doesn't bother me in the slightest. We need to move the family from A to B safely, in a cost effective manner, sometimes with some stuff or visitors added. That's really about it.

It doesn't hurt that we came in under what I'd budgeted, either.

January 16th+ - 30 weeks

From Liss:

Let me say this: I love my family. I have the job I want, I have financial stability, I'm relatively healthy, I have friends. I can't imagine what I'd really want to change, but sometimes James is out of town with his charming distracting self and I'm sick of typing BS about teaching and I go on a maudlin streak.

The sex ed unit I used to teach had a self-esteem lesson. We were supposed to teach kids that everyone needs to feel that they belong, they're capable, and they're needed. For some reason that list has been popping into my head this week. I think my self-esteem is fine, but I wish I could say I feel needed or even a sense of belonging outside of my own little family. Lately, no.

Parenting has changed our lives for the better, but I know I've been feeling lonely lately. We don't have many parent friends here; and those we do have, have local family for support. For us, we don't have a real circle. We have friends, sure, people we enjoy talking to and spending time with, but after a day of work and toddlers it sure is easier to just hunker down with your spouse and re-charge. We don't have a group to fade into, every interaction has to be planned. We're nobody's "usual suspects." We don't have a standing Friday night beer group or Sunday evening game get-together. Even the parent group we joined (which I'd hoped would be The Answer) fizzled: they all already had their circles, so once the shock of new parenthood wore off, they didn't need us any more.

I've had friends tell me they don't want children because they think they're "too selfish." While I can respect that sentiment (and certainly don't think anyone should have kids who doesn't want them!), I also know this: parenthood has made me more selfish. I am not nearly as fun or involved a friend as I once was, I'm not up to intellectual sparring or even keeping up with pop culture that doesn't appear in Entertainment Weekly.^*

And it's not that we can't be friends with non-parents, but it's hard to be spontaneous and it's hard to be all Intellectual. We're not going to be anyone's "call in case of crisis" people when we're so baby-focused. I work (with kids). I go home (to kids). If I'm not cooking, cleaning (ha), or snuggling/Scrabbling with my spouse, I'm working on my National Boards.

I don't know what the answer is. We could try a different new-parent group when Ellen arrives, but we're too anal about the 7:00 bedtime for an evening group so we'd just end up with the Microsoft SAHMs again. We could join ... I don't know, something else. We could try to set up a "regular" with some of our existing friends. ^**

But really what's going to happen is that in a couple of months, Ellen will arrive. The small amount of sanity we've established around here will be shattered. Friends who can will help us, despite our inability to help anyone else right now.

And in a few more years we'll poke our heads out and see if we can re-establish some sense of community outside these walls.

^* which is the only thing I can be counted on to read lately
^** I keep thinking we could do something here at, like, 7:30 very easily, but we seldom get there. And now we're on borrowed time again.

Liss had a late night at work, so it was just me and the boys. Sometime during the bed routine, I got them mixed, to the point of putting them in each other's cribs. I also was the one who got them out, so she only "knew" who was who based on the names I was using, but she was suspicious. The turning point came when "Bob" smiled at me and showed prominent dimples, though Drew's are much more pronouned. That's when I looked at his ear and realized my mistake.

Soon enough they'll be able to tell us when we're wrong. Later they'll agree to just let us be wrong and see how long it takes for us to figure it out, or see which of them cracks up laughing - whichever comes first.

Love is removing the large dried booger from your son's cheek.

January 9th+ - 29 weeks

Pictures.

Both from behind, sitting on the couch while Liss feeds them. I think Bob's on the left. Maybe.
Both with Liss. The light really brings out their eyes in this one. Again, I think Bob's on the left, but only from what little of his ear is visible.
This is not a mirror, but rather Drew exploring outside a little bit. They kept going in and out, in and out - kinda like the cat.
We've started letting them climb the stairs at bedtime, even though it gets them going a little bit. Grace is usually somewhere in their way, and they always pause and whine and eventually go around her. She is, after all, sharp and pointy.
They go downtairs to the front foyer sometimes, and often bring up some of our shoes. We're trying to break them of that, since we need our shoes to be findable, but not before Drew brought up a pair of mine and tried to step in them. I swear I didn't stage this.

We throw random instructions at the boys to see what they do and don't understand. Last night Drew moved an empty laundry basket across the floor, out of sight of the living room. Later, Liss opened a box of maternity clothes that had come in the mail, and asked him to put a blouse in the laundry basket, without motioning where. He promptly walked it over and put it in, then repeated the task three times. We therefore conclude that he knows the word "basket" - though he can't say it.

We tend to be overly cautious about declaring a word known or not. If I point to an object and tell one of them that it's to his left, and he looks left and grabs it, that doesn't mean he understands left from right. He might have just been reacting to my pointing - or even the act of projecting my voice to his left.

The opposite behavior is to jump to a conclusion: "My child said 'mama,' and therefore knows the word for 'mother' and attaches its meaning to me." We've seen that kind of thing a lot.

We joke about it between ourselves, though. In the last few days, Drew's taken to rearranging things (like that laundry basket), so we say he'll make a good interior decorator.

I'd like to propose a social experiment for my readers.

Take two objects - tumblers, socks, whatever - that appear to be identical to each other.
Name them - A and B, John and Paul, whatever.
Mark one of them differently, but in a way you can't see without looking for it, like a pencil mark on the bottom of one tumbler.
Carry them around with you all day. Set them down at your desk, put them in the cupholders when you drive, etc.
Try to keep track of who's who. Don't cheat.
At the end of the day, see if you're right. Mail me (link at the top) with your results.
Repeat if you like.

The idea is just to pass along the very specific feeling of "which is which?" and realizing you're not sure. It's very harrowing to feel that about your own children. That's why we waited to cut off their hospital bands until we had to, still paint Bobby's toenails, never dress them alike, and thank whomever constantly for their ear differences.

You might find yourself doing the same with this experiment - looking for subtle differences even though you're not supposed to in this case. It's natural.

Ideally, 100% would get it right. If everyone got confused, they'd hit it 50% of the time. I predict around 90%.

If you remove the mark (or mark the other the same way), repeat but with the idea of seeing how long it takes before you give up keeping track.

Eighteen months old. A year and a half.

Since it was twins last time, and therefore a very risky pregnancy, Liss had an ultrasound every few weeks. This time, she had the one halfway-point ultrasound and then occasional spot checks at the OB's office, but it's nothing like last time. She got used to seeing the boys all the time.

Fortunately, Ellen's quite the little kicker, which reassures Liss. The boys ran out of room for that right about now, which - added to the high-riskiness in the first place - made her a little paranoid.

This weekend we met some friends-of-friends who are expecting identical twin boys about the same time as Ellen. We crossed the line into advice-givers instead of takers a long time ago, when it comes to taking care of small twins. The boys did a good job of showing them many weaknesses in their baby-proofing.

While our boys never developed TTTS, these did, and had a procedure done to correct it. Still, one boy is measuring in the 95th percentile and the other in the 20th. Their mother is 26 weeks along, and has already been on bedrest (and not working) for seven. That's exactly the kind of thing we were dreading when it was us, but never happened. It happened to these folks.

Liss is working on her National Board certification, despite having two toddlers and being pregnant. Every year she's had a reason not to (active outside interests, wedding to plan, spend time with new husband, pregnant with twins, baby twins), but there's no end in sight to that. In hindsight, she wishes she'd done it while we were engaged, because planning the wedding was nothing compared to taking care of two toddlers. The difference is laughable.

She'll soon have three kids instead of two, so she figures she might as well do it before that. The final portfolios are due right around the time Ellen is, so she's planning to finish a month ahead of time. You can't count on everything going to plan in the last phases of a pregnancy - one of the women in our online due-in-March community had her boy last week. (Fortunately he's doing well).

The "bizz-oys" nickname seems to have been short-lived, now replaced by "boyses."

It's hard to gauge the boys' progress, since we're around them so much, whereas visitors always remark to how much more grown up they seem than the last visit - even those that come over every week or two.

Bob's definitely the wordier of the two - more likely to copy a word, pronounce it more clearly, or use it later in a context we can understand. He might have fifteen not-just-copying words by now to Drew's ... ten? They understand many more, though, perhaps a few hundred.

Meanwhile, Drew can zoom up and down the stairs with ease. Bob is still more cautious about it - especially going down - but can generally keep up. Drew's pretty close to true running. I expect them to be outside kicking soccer balls around by summer.

They both ask permission before doing certain things, like taking the stairs, which is why we went ahead and took down the gates.

Both of them have had their 11th tooth erupt recently - the last incisor, though on opposite sides.

There's also a step back - they don't like throwing their diapers in the trash anymore. Drew's also clinging to his nighttime stuffed bear and binky more, but the silver lining to that is that he doesn't throw them out of his crib as much, so they're available to soothe him when he wakes up. Bob's only done that once so far.

January 2nd+ - 28 weeks

Liss is getting pretty big - enough that she asked me to find her 6-month picture from the boys' pregnancy. She was notably bigger in that one, so I guess she feels better now.

I think I might have jinxed us with the previous entry.

I've noticed that the boys have become more mellow in the last few weeks and months. They're having fewer random tantrums, don't whine as much, and tantrums/whining don't last as long. The prospect of taking care of them by myself for long stretches of time doesn't concern me anymore, because they've just become more manageable.

Start of third trimester.

Pictures and video.

They've really taken to books lately. Note how Bob's is upside down.
Since the kitchen is the current Palace of Wonder (and where food appears from), but Liss needs to be in there despite their whining, she's started putting them on the counter when she cooks. They insist on "helping," which she encourages in small doses. Eventually she hopes to have three little sous chefs.
She also had this lovely idea of putting hand food in a muffin tin, to discourage spreading the food around or hoarding everything from one's brother.
Drew with a saucy look, while trying to figure out how the recliner works.
Playing and surfing with Mom.
In the dry ice fog thanks to Amazon Fresh.
Tickling, nay pounding, the ivories. They like my piano much more than their little one, but things get dicey when they get to the buttons on the panel. I'm trying to train them to stick to the keys.
This is a rare scene to capture, since opening their door didn't wake either of them up, even after I went back down/upstairs for the camera. This was at the tail end of a 3 1/2 hour nap. I was supposed to get them up, but just couldn't disturb this scene.
We plopped them on the changing table while we brought in groceries. Bob's on the left.
Liss bought a couple of appropriately-sized hair brushes for them.
[+] Peekaboo! Please pardon my bedhead.
[+] (long) Drew, especially, likes to spin.
[+] (long) Drew playing perpetual fetch. The important parts are (a) that he can go down the stairs now (Bob can go a couple of steps), and (b) we took down the baby gates. They don't have the big urge to use the stairs anymore, and when they do they generally "ask" us if it's okay, which Drew demonstrates here.

Dad's Coping Mechanism - 2010

2008 | 2009 | 2010

August 28th+

August 21st+

August 14th+

August 7th+

July 31st+

July 24th+

July 17th+

July 10th+

July 3rd+

June 19th+

June 12th+

June 5th+

May 29th+

May 22nd+

May 15th+

May 8th+

May 1st+

April 24th+

April 17th+

April 10th+

April 3rd+

March 27th+

March 20th+ - 39 weeks

March 13th+ - 38 weeks

March 6th+ - 37 weeks

February 27th+ - 36 weeks

February 20th+ - 35 weeks

February 13th+ - 34 weeks

February 6th+ - 33 weeks

January 30th+ - 32 weeks

January 23rd+ - 31 weeks

January 16th+ - 30 weeks

January 9th+ - 29 weeks

January 2nd+ - 28 weeks