Happy 5th Birthday, Elliott and Dietrich!

I guess I will have to change the header on this blog as I am now the mother of twin FIVE year olds! I would love to write something reflective on the past year, how they've changed, how they've stayed the same, who we are that we weren't a year ago and who we are now. But honestly, living with two kids on the verge of becoming a new, exciting age, then witnessing the arrival of that age, then celebrating its arrival (a few times) is exausting and I'm ready for bed! But it is their day, and from how fast they fell asleep tonight, I know it has been a good one. Happy Birthday to both of you!

Fire Station #4

Inspired by the fire fighter outfit given to him by his cousin, Dietrich thought a trip to the local fire station would be a perfet outing for us today. Elliott was happy to go, too, though didn't feel the need to wear the gear: snowpants, red jacket and hat, ax, radio, and fire extinguisher. He left the inflatable hose at home. Elliott did bring along a plastic saxaphone and microphone he made with tinkertoys, also gifted from the same cousin. We were about to turn around and walk home when Lorenzo came to the front door of the fire station. He assured us he hadn't been sleeping and we weren't interupting anything, and he was happy to show us around. Delight from everyone: no tantrum from a well-overdressed child. We couldn't have asked for a more patient guide to show us the day to day of the station. A week ago we toured the same engine at a small festival in a park nearby, but seeing it in its garage, and having a firefighter to ask questions of, and wearing the outfit, made it all new again. We saw it all: the trucks, the fire pole (and demonstration), the kitchen (including a handmade table constructed out of a part of a bowling lane and propped up by old fire hydrants), the laundry facilities (are you kidding? Elliott was along!), the hose to clean the trucks (and opportunity for each boy to help spray the truck), a lights, but no siren, demonstration, and finally, a real, live call.

Sweet Summer Days

As strawberry picking is pretty much out for me this summer, the next best thing is picking up strawberries in our CSA (community supported agriculture) box from a garage a few blocks from us. I thought about buying shortcake to avoid turning on the oven, but instead justified that if we made pizzas AND shortcake, then steaming up the house would be not only for dessert, but dinner too. Needless to say, it was worth it. Dietrich climbed on the prep table and Elliott perched in a chair as we cut in a stick of butter, mixed up the white powders and wet everything down with half and half and an egg. The strawberries were half the size of the ones that can be bought in a store, but twice as juicy. I lopped off their tops, saving as much of the red as I could, nibbling around green stems when necessary. The pizza wasn't bad, either, but it was dessert that made the night. Even Dietrich ventured into eating a strawberry with his cake and whipped cream (out of a can, so it wasn't all from scratch!) I hear boys coming down the stairs for a new day, but an entry is an entry, right? Can I eat shortcake for breakfast, too?

Babies

Four lives starting out in four different continents kept us laughing and sighing as we saw how different and how similar early lives unfold. This documentary has no commentary, just subtle music and thoughtfully placed image cuts. We had just been to the perinatal clinic for a 20 week ultrasound of our baby. The nausea of the beginning and the kicks of recent weeks have all made it real to me that we're having a baby, but somehow seeing the profile of our little one really brings it home. We're having a baby!

Ryan had the rest of the day off, but it was pouring rain, and we were not up to the entertaining and playing referee required to spend the afternoon at home. Never having seen a movie as a family (except an IMAX at the museum), and already having babies on the mind, we went back to our driveway to catch a signal and find movie times, Babies being everyone's choice. Dietrich liked tucking his legs into the seats and nearly folding up. Elliott would have liked to help in the reel room, but settled into his seat, too. After a few questionable previews (ah ... but this is a PG movie, why the R previews?) we peeked into the lives of four families as they adjusted to life with a new baby. One family spent nearly no time indoors. Two mothers worked and sat and nursed side by side with their little ones as they played with whatever was near them. Two other families navigated city streets, walk-up and high-rise apartments, mommy-and-me yoga and music class. Their babies played with books, toys, and their parents' gadgets. The fourth family lived in a yurt where baby learned from (and handled the taunting of) his brother while his parents took care of cattle. All the babies experienced their worlds and mastered what they could. They learned to explore and eat and eventually, triumphantly, walk. The differences in sense of time and space could not have been more diverse between the families, particularly between the babies in the city and the ones in the rural areas.

After several minutes of the baby in Namibia, playing with the rocks while his mommy wove, the next frame goes to a baby playing with her daddy on the floor. But in the background is her mommy, resting on a couch, reading a book, "Becoming the Parent you Want to Be." I have read my share of books like this, to be sure. And there is always going to be part of me that wants to be a calmer, more energetic, more creative parent. But watching how the babies who grew up without books and classes and parents reading about being better parents became just as curious about the world as the babies who were read to made it all seem pretty silly. So here's to living in the outside world, watching our babies grow up, and enjoying them.

June. Time for Freedom.

Well, I have 84 posts and far more than 84 days have rolled in and out of our lives this year. But it is a new month, and there is always hope. Tonight the boys and I are solo, but we have a special guest: my parents' dog, Mogey. With this guest, we are treated to having the perfect excuse to rush out the door at our usual bath time, sans shoes and one child sans shirt, and go around the block. Because when Mogey needs to go, he just needs to go! We went down the bike path and the freedom of no shoes, no shirt made for spontaneous singing and laughing and twisting around into the grass. Their bare toes pattered down the path, along the grass, then up the ramp to a neighboring street. There was little in the air except invisible water droplets -- the birds were quiet, there was no wind tossing the leaves around, and the sky hung low. Mogey poked and prowled in the neighborhood dogs' favorite bushes, but obliged me when I said, "We have to catch up with the boys!" On our last block we met a couple returning from an evening walk who had stopped at Trader Joe's. Elliott asked his technical survey questions: "Do you have a satellite? Do you have a CD player? Does your phone have Pac Man?" While Dietrich caught them up on the fire a home suffered on our street. The man admired their bare feet and remembered a time when his feet could tolerate the pricks of rocks and sticks on summer evenings. Elliott pointed out that they are now wearing running shoes and socks for their walk. Ah, yes, look at that, they said. They gave Mogey an admiring tussle around his collar and marveled at his size for a shelty. Then we were all on our way; the couple home to their TJ's snacks, the boys and the dog and me off to our sticky but sweet feeling house, a bath, and the rest that comes after a summer day.