TONIGHT…

Milestone:
After Thanksgiving on Thursday and then the next four nights straight of eating T’Giving leftovers for dinner we finally couldn’t take it anymore. I had to work late, and we could not stomach the idea of a sixth night of turkey, so Braydon seized the opportunity for him and the boys to pursue one of their favorite activities: a trip to the pizza place. Braydon reported that tonight both boys marched right in there to Borderline Pizza, Braydon plopped them up on the counter, and Owen yelled out “High Five Sal!” (to the owner). Sal, of course, came running from the kitchen. After ‘high fiving’ with K & O, and after K & O ‘high fiving’ with the rest of the pizza-making-guys, Sal gave each boy a piece of fresh pepperoni. But I digress… this is not the milestone… this is normality… Milestone: once we were all at home situated around the dining room table for supper both K & O requested that their pizza be “not cut” but rather that they “eat it big”?!!!!!!! This is a huge milestone since they ALWAYS always always ALWAYS always insist that *EVERYTHING* that they eat be “cut.” “You cut it?” they always, always, always request. But tonight, they ate their pizza “big.” They were sooooo proud of themselves. A big milestone for our pizza-loving two year olds.

Historic Break From Tradition:
Who the heck knows (or even cares) how it began, but somewhere along the way I started a tradition many years ago that I/we DO NOT start Christmas stuff until December 1. No Christmas music to be played until December 1. No Christmas shopping to be done until December 1. And definately, definately NO CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS in the house until December 1. But alas, I’m a sucker for my precious bambinos and they could probably get me to do just about anything on earth for them. Tradition smadition blahdition. Starting this weekend we see Christmas lights decorating houses as we drive along the roads to and fro. Being the crazy foolish people that we are, everytime we see the Christmas lights we sing “Hallelujah” like maniacs. So, since the weekend my sweet baby boy Kyle has been asking, with the most forlorn little look on his face, “Mama, where’d my hallelujah go?” and “Mama, where’s my hallelujah?” and “Mama, what happened to my hallelujah?” It hasn’t taken a rocket scientist for us to coax out of him that he wants some lights up at his own house. I’ve been telling him that we’re going to do it “Sunday” (like that even means anything to the poor child?!) and that “we have to wait.” Tonight though, I couldn’t bear it anymore, and I thought to myself, “my gosh, there will come a day not too far in the teenage-years-future when I’ll be pulling teeth to get this boy to help me put up a Christmas light…” and I thought, “oh, what the heck…” and I shouted to my three family-mates, “YOU WAIT HERE!!! And sing Jingle Bells while you wait!!!” (which they did), and I ran to the basement to dig in the Christmas storage to fetch a string of lights. I threw them up along the dining room window. And I plugged them in. You should have seen the look on my boys’ faces, and the twinkles in their eyes, and the spirit in their excitement when they saw those Hallelujah lights light up in their home. We’ll put the tree up on Sunday, but I must say, that the breaking of a tradition has never felt so satisfying.

Braydon and I kind of think of life in two dimensions: “before-K&O” and “after-K&O.” Many of you who know me from “before” know about how I love(d) to cook. I used to read cookbooks like people on the beach read romance novels. I used to watch the Food Network like sports fans watch ESPN. I used to list “cooking” on questionairres that asked for my hobbies. I’d spend hours (sometimes days) researching, planning, and preparing for dinner parties. Many a weeknight Braydon and I spent drinking wine while I cooked, and savoring my multiple-course dinners by candlelight well into the night. Times have changed in our “after-K&O” life. I think of it this way: I used to be a pretty good amateur chef, now I am a fast-and-dirty cook. Big difference. Braydon took this picture of some spices on our kitchen counter. You can’t tell from the photo, but they go for long stretches without ever being used. I hardly ever have use for spices anymore since 99% of the time I’m just trying to get something that all four of us will find edible onto the table in 20 minutes or less. Turns out that toddlers (well, I suppose I should really only speak for myself and I should rather say, my two toddlers) don’t really like wasabi and sesame encrusted tuna with a hoisin glaze cooked rare and served over a bed of sauteed fresh spinach with garlic mashed red-potatoes. Sometimes I get really sad about it. Sort of like I get sad when we talk about the spontaneous trips to the movie theater that we used to make, or the sophisticated vacations we used to go on, or the exercise equipment in our basement that we used to use, or the Sunday mornings we’d linger for hours with coffee and the New York Times. But most of the time I’m feeling no sadness — just the purest joy I’ve ever known: the experience of having the opportunity to be my boys’ mother. I can honestly say, as cliche as it sounds, that for me now, my bambinos are the spice of life. I’d never go back, no matter what — and I feel that way everyday, even when we’re all eating hot dogs and beans.

Sometimes it is really hard to be a mommy who has an ambitious career. Like today. Like this morning, when I had to drop off my precious babies at daycare after having four whole days in a row with them. They were o.k. with going. They didn’t cry or anything. When I went to kiss them goodbye at the little toddler breakfast table, they didn’t even protest me leaving. But I had all I could do to keep my game-face on for them until I closed the door behind me. Then I cried my heart out all by myself in the car all the way to work. And then had to go give a sociology lecture to 240 students. I think it is important to be real about this. It is just really, really, really hard sometimes. I wouldn’t give up any of it. I really wouldn’t. For so many really important reasons. But it is not easy.

Cuddling This Morning

MorMor and MorFar left first thing this morning. I cried as we waved and watched them drive off down the driveway. We went back into the house and Kyle kept asking me, “Mama, you o.k.?” (he hates to see anyone cry, let alone his mother!), and Owen kept saying, “I so mad!!!” Owen was so angry about MorMor and MorFar having to leave that he didn’t even want to kiss them goodbye. And Kyle was just depressed and limp and lifeless. Braydon and I felt like we do whenever they leave — lots of feelings of “how on earth are we going to manage without them here???????” We spent the day trying to re-group. Which involved: lots of cuddling, lots of sleeping (we finally woke the boys at the 3.25 hour mark into their nap), lunch out at Panera, and “Hair Night” (which is always every-other-Sunday, but we’re counting it as part of our “re-grouping” effort tonight). When we have company the boys are so excited that they don’t eat as much as usual. But then they make up for it. Tonight they EACH ate (this is not both combined, this is per child): 1 whole hummus & wheat bread sandwich, 1 whole pear, 1/2 can of green beans (I know, yuck!!! But they love it, and is the only way to get them to eat green beans- they won’t eat them fresh?!), 1/4 pound of cheese (yes, you did read that correctly), 1 leftover Pillsbury crescent roll from Thanksgiving, and a ton of yogurt covered raisins. So, double that — and that is what they consumed combined. If they eat this much now when they’re 2, what the heck are we going to be feeding them when they’re 12?! or 16?! I think about that a lot. And I won’t even try to list everything they ate throughout the whole day. So, here we are. Our little family re-grouped. Tomorrow starts a new week of work/daycare. Thanks for reading…

Hair Night Tonight

We’ve been having a really great few days here in Pennsylvania with my parents. Owen and Kyle just love having their MorMor and MorFar around. Braydon and I do too.

We are so thankful.

I am not going to write some gushy Thanksgiving Day entry here. Because I can’t even do it justice. We’re just so thankful. Our hearts are just so full.

I will say, however, just because it is an important day to mark down in the anals of history of the Johnson-McCormick household…
that…
Today we had our first boy-broken-window. Kyle hit a golf ball that smashed right into our garage window. Let this date be remembered as our first boy-broken-window day. Surely there will be many more of these days to come. But let it be noted that the first was today, Thanksgiving Day 2006, and that our darling son was only 2.5 when he broke his first window with his powerful golf swing. Let it be duly noted.

We’re so thankful for that powerful golf swing. We’re so thankful for that precious little boy “Ky Ky” who is the sweetest little thing imaginable. We’re so thankful for our “Big O” Owen who kept us all in hysterics laughing all day long… and who never stopped talking today except for when he was sleeping… and who, despite the massive entirety of the Thanksgiving Dinner spread of food ate exactly 2 Pillsbury crescent rolls for his entire meal (but asked for precisely “five” of them). And we’re really thankful for our entire family and our friends and our good, good life. I know, I know, I said I wouldn’t be gushy, so I’ll stop there.

O.k., so, I’m not gonna lie about it: A lot of days the “terrible two’s” seem like a folkloric myth to us. I’m almost embarassed about saying that out loud since so many people have the opposite situation and complain to me constantly about their two-year-olds. But not today. We’re grumpy here. Grumpy grumpy grumpy. We all woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. All four of us. And by 6:30 p.m., the “terrible two’s” seemed more real than ever. And with two of ’em fussing and whining and carrying on and losing it left at right all at the same time — it doesn’t feel like the Terrible Two’s times two. It feels more like the Terrible Two’s TIMES-a-MILLION around here. And with two parents who are frazzled and burnt out and sick and tired of burning the candles at both ends it feels more like the Terrible Two’s TIMES-a-ZILLION.

We’re *done* with this whole mama-fall-semester-overextended-up-for-tenure-book-just-out-THING. We’re *done* with this whole daylight-savings-dark-when-we-get-home-from-daycare-no-light-to-play-outside-THING. (see below). We’re *done* with this whole daily-grind-rat-race-two-parents-working-two-twin-toddlers-two-neglected-cats-all-under-one-roof-THING. We’re just done done done done done. Wha Wha Whah Whah Whaaaaaaaaah. Can’t I just have a big ‘ol TANTRUM about THAT?! ;0

Biggest gripe of the day: By 5:00 it is dark outside. But we’re not nearly ready to give up on our outdoor play time. Something’s gotta give. Poor Kyle and Owen are playing in the dark every day now. They seem unphased by it. But Braydon and I are just beside ourselves with annoyance over this! Here are some photos of our happy-go-lucky boys playing in the sandbox in the pitch dark. What are we saving with this daylight savings thing afterall?

Thank goodness MorMor and MorFar arrive tomorrow. Just in time to save the day! My guess???– By Thanksgiving Dinner we’ll be asking ourselves: “Terrible Two’s??” “What’s that?” “Daylight Savings??” “What’s the big deal?!” “Pass the turkey and gravy please?”

From time to time, by the power vested in me by nothing but motherhood, I declare a day a “HAITIAN PRIDE DAY” for the Johnson-McCormick Family. Sometimes there is an actual reason (like, something is happening in Haiti at the time, or it is the anniversary of something big that happened in the history of Haiti, or another family we know about somewhere succesfully got through a major milestone in a Haitian adoption, or the day has some significance for our own family, etc.). But sometimes — like today — there is no “official” reason at all. First thing this morning I announced to K & O that today was “Haitian Pride Day!” The boys were very, very, very proud to show off their shirts to all their friends in the toddler room at daycare. Woot woot! Rah rah! The other two-year-olds seemed only mildly impressed… and were much more excited about another kid’s “Bob the Builder” shirt that he proceeded to show off with as much (o.k., I admit it, a bit more) gusto than K & O had for their shirts. Despite this, the boys carried forth. I was told at daycare pick-up that they had been adament all day long to show off their shirts to anyone who would listen to them repeatedly say, “HAITI!” I was totally completely impressed and thrilled when one of the daycare staff (an intern I actually have in class this semester) told me that she “got so into it!” that she went to her dorm room and brought back to the daycare center her own actual Haitian flag (she is Haitian) which she then pulled out to show me! Owen pointed to her flag and said, “Haiti Flag.” Could Haitian Pride Day get any better than THAT?!!!

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