The week before last, when we were in Sand Key, Kyle and Owen perfected the art of making “Ks.” This was incredibly exciting for both boys since prior to Sand Key they could not seem to manage to make a “K” no matter how hard they tried. It was gratifying especially for Kyle given that it is the first letter of his name and the one letter in his name that both he and Owen simply could not write. Making “Ks” in the sand was a major activity of our trip. Hundreds of them were drawn, all over the beach, by all four of us. And somehow this turned into a sort of letter-writing-breakthrough for K & O. They started writing other letters that had previously stumped them (“Rs,” “Ms,” and “Bs” for example), and then numbers too (they mastered the previously-impossible “4” when they became absolutely determined to write our hotel room number – 441 – in the sand over and over and over), and then on the last day of our trip– the elusive shape of a heart (a shape that both of them loved but neither of them could draw before we left for Florida). Somehow the sand-writing just turned a corner for them. Maybe it was because they could write so big in the sand? (instead of being constrained to paper) Or maybe it was because they could use their fingers? (instead of pencils, markers, crayons, or sidewalk chalk) Or maybe it was just the beautiful setting, the doting parents willing/able to watch them write in the sand for hours, or the glorious sunshine and warm breezes??? Who knows. Whatever it was, it was a huge breakthrough. They’ve been writing letters, numbers, and shapes like madmen ever since. They can write many/most letters now. They can both write their own names and each other’s names now. They can write Alex’s name. And they can write more and more numbers and draw more and more shapes each day. When it rains, it pours. Here, ever since we returned from Sand Key, it is pouring letters, numbers, and shapes.
The boys have been on Winter Break this week (no school), and although they are doing absolutely positively great, and although I took two days off this week and spent all day with them on Monday and Wednesday, and although we were just on vacation together last week, I still feel the ‘Career Mom Yuckies’ (as I call it in my own mind) about the fact that 3 of the 7 nights this week I’ve been out of the house for work. For various reasons (to attend a dinner celebrating the publication of my book, to teach a graduate seminar, to give a paper), 3 of the 7 nights this week I have not been home to eat dinner with my bambinos and tuck them into bed at night. I hate this. Adding insult to injury, I’m leaving later today for a conference and will be away for an overnight “work trip.” Ugh. So, this morning it lit up my whole day and made those ‘Career Mom Yuckies’ vanish for just a moment when the following happened…
For many months now Kyle and Owen have been wrapped up in a full blown love affair with Curious George. They have no interest in Curious George toys, but are enamored with Curious Goerge books and videos. The Curious George books are some of their absolute favorites. They choose Curious George to be read to them by us over and over and over and over. They also love the Curious George videos. They choose Curious George to watch over and over and over — far more than any other video we own. This morning, in a sweet snuggly moment, Kyle looked me right in the eyes and said~
“Mommy, you are my Man In The Yellow Hat.”
This is the second time he’s said this to me (he said it to me one day this past summer too.)
Baby Sister’s E.T.A. is exactly 12 weeks from today. The anticipation is building. The To-Do List is long. And things are really starting to heat up and go into full gear at the Johnson-McCormick Family Homestead. I hope that in 12 weeks I’ll be able to confidently say, “Bring it on!!!” But right now all I can think of to say is, “Eeks!”
I haven’t posted about Twinspeak lately, but it is still going strong between K & O. (click here for another time I posted about Twinspeak). For those of you who are parents of twins, you know all about “Twinspeak” I’m sure, but for those of you not intimately familiar with twins, remember– the twins (at least ours) know and often use the ‘correct’ word(s) when not in earshot of each other, but when in the presence of each other they consistently (and in our case, always, without any exceptions ever) use the ‘twinspeak’ word(s) in place of the ‘correct’ word(s). Some of my current favorite K-&-O-Twinspeak terms are:
- Syrian Bars = Cereal Bars
- Making Smoothies = either truly making yogurt smoothies in the blender or fiddling around with the humidifiers in their rooms
- Nanny Juice = Soda
- Bonk and/or Donk = the verb to slam with one’s body
- Vacation Trees = Palm Trees
- Macaroni (when used just as the single word, not in conjunction with “and cheese”) = the adjective anything good
- Bunny Macaroni = the adjective anything super good
- Stinky Macaroni = the adjective anything not good or in place of the word “yucky”
The funniest Twinspeak thing of late, however, is this~~~
A couple of weeks ago the four of us were eating lunch at home on a weekend. Owen started acting up at the table. Kyle said (in a very sing-song-y, bossy tone), “Owen, remember your table manners!” Immediately I said (firmly, to Kyle), “Kyle, that is not your job,” and then (firmly, to Owen), “Owen, eat your lunch and stop acting up.” Kyle said, “Why that not my job?” I said, “Because you are not the Mommy, you are the Brother.” Owen, acting sassy, said, “I like it when Kyle says that to me.” And Kyle jumped right in, “See, he likes it when I say that to him!?!” (this is another regular theme in our house– often when we try to scold one of them for bothering the other, the ‘other’ will jump in claiming that they “like it” when their brother does whatever it is that we’re trying to scold him for). “O.k., listen, both of you,” I said “that’s enough. Kyle, you are not the boss. Owen, you are not the boss. I am the boss.” They both looked at me like I was crazy. So I tried to be more clear, “In this house, I am the boss!” Very upset, Kyle retorted right away, “No! MORFAR IS THE BOSS!” I didn’t quite know how to react. Braydon was just sitting there watching this whole scene unfold. I said, “O.k., at MorFar’s house, he is the boss, but at our house I am the boss.” Owen was clearly unsettled by this. “No!” he said, “You are not the boss, MorFar is the boss.” Kyle was deeply disturbed, to say the least. “No!!!” he yelled, “No! No! No! MorFar is the boss!” I had no idea where this was coming from or where it was leading, but I wanted to cut it off right there. I leaned down to his level and looked him in the eyes like I meant business, “No, Kyle, I am the boss of this house.” Since that day either K or O or both have brought up the whole “Boss” topic at least once a day. It always revolves around “MorFar is the boss.” Often while driving in the car I’ll hear the two of them in the backseat discussing it: “Mommy is not the boss, MorFar is the real boss.” “Yes! That’s right, MorFar is the boss!” Or, I’ll overhear them playing together in the playroom: “The boss is MorFar, MorFar is the boss!” “Yes! That’s exactly right! MorFar is the boss!” These sorts of exchanges will go on, back-and-forth, back-and-forth over and over between the two of them. Anytime the word “boss” comes up, they say “MorFar” and in the past few days I’ve noticed them both starting to replace the word “boss” with the word “MorFar” (as in, “We are pilots! We are the MorFar of this airplane!” or “We are pretending we are teachers! We are the MorFar of this school!!!”) I have been at an utter loss as to what this is all about… wavering between ignoring it and thinking it is just nothing, to frantically fretting that it is some sort of weird twisted three-year-old boy form of patriarchal-female-disempowerment. ‘Why my father?’ I’ve thought over and over in my own mind. ‘Yes, I know they worship him, but The Boss?’ And ‘If they insist on it being a man instead of being me, then why not Braydon, why my father?????’ I’ve fluctuated between just brushing it off and spending lots of time trying to untangle the whole mess in my own mind. And I’ve kept reminding the two of them that indeed, at our house, “Mommy is the boss.” Until… yesterday…
When I got home from work a package was sitting in the garage. It was addressed to Kyle and Owen. And it was from MorFar! As soon as I got in the door the boys ripped it open in two seconds flat. Inside were two stuffed Fenway Park ‘Green Monsters’ wearing Boston Red Sox shirts and baseball hats. The boys were thrilled beyond belief, of course. They carrried them around for the rest of the night. They pretended they were “hitting the ball.” And the “Red Soxes” (as they quickly came to call them) even had to eat dinner with us at the table. At one point K & O came right up to me, in the kitchen, as I was making dinner. “See,” Kyle said, pointing to the “B” on the hat of his, “see, Mommy, it is a ‘B’ for Bosssssston Red Sox. See!?!?!” Halfway ignoring it, I said, “Uh huh.” Owen tugged at my arm, “Look, Mommy, see, from MorFar, the Bosssssssssssssston Red Sox. See, Mommy??!!” I turned to look down at the two of them. Both of them standing there, holding their “Red Soxes” looking up at me with serious determined faces. “Yes,” I said, “I see.” Kyle smiled smugly and said, “See, Mommy, Bosssston Red Sox! See! MorFar is the Bossssssss!” And then they both took off running, very satisfied, with their “Red Soxes,” to the playroom.
Tonight after dinner we were all upstairs getting the boys ready for bed. They both had to go “poopie in the potty” at exactly the same time (this happens a lot with them). Very regularly they’ll both pee together in one potty at the same time. But when it comes to poopie they have to split up. So, Owen was on the potty in the boys’ bathroom and Kyle was on the potty in Braydon and I’s bathroom. While we were waiting for them, Braydon and I were cleaning and neatening and sorting in the boys’ bedrooms. I quietly entered my bedroom to head into the bathroom to check on Kyle. As I got within earshot I could here Kyle talking to himself while sitting on the potty (Kyle talks virtually non-stop for every waking hour whether in the presence of others or not). I could hear him in there, all alone, chit chatting away. Before reaching the bathroom I stopped to listen in on him and this is what I heard:
“I love my baby! I love my baby! I love Baby Sister, I love Baby Sister, I love Baby Sister! And she needs to come out of that big big belly!” And then very loudly, “Mommy come wipe my butt!”
Since getting back from vacation last week I’ve been having a hard time finding the ‘ooomph’ to blog. Just like any habit, if I’ve fallen out of the routine of blogging every night, then it is hard to pull myself back into the groove. Plus, (in addition to being pregnant/exhausted 24×7) there are three other things going on that I think are contributing to my bloglessness. The first is that this week is Winter Break at Kyle and Owen’s school and that throws a huge wrench into our whole rhythm (Alex is babysitting all day on T and Th, but I’m home with the boys all day on M,W,F of this week). 2nd is that Braydon and I seem to be going through some sort of sudden nesting instinct– the sudden cumpulsion to re-arrange the entire house, re-do whole rooms, clean out closets and cabinets, etc., etc., etc. We did this for 8 months straight while we were waiting/nesting for the boys, but up until this week we had done almost nothing in preparation for “Baby Sister.” Something about the final countdown of entering the 3rd trimester has suddenly seemed to prompt us into a frenetic-nest-’till-you-drop mode. That is taking up a lot of the time that I’d normally sit down to post to the blog. Lastly — and most importantly — we are in a terrible predicament that contributes greatly to me being an uninspired blogger: our camera died. We don’t know what happened, it just stopped working all of a sudden. We’re in the process of trying to get it looked at. In the meantime, we’re totally camera-less, which means half of our blog material is just plain obsolete right now. So, hang in there with us folks as we make our way through this blog-bump-in-the-road.
One of the boys’ favorite things to do is have us watch them do things. “Papi/Mommy, watch me!” is a common refrain heard in these parts. Whether it’s for jumping on the bed, thowing rocks, riding a scooter, or flying their airplane or writing their letters, they always love to have us “watch them”. And watching them really means: Mommy/Papi, tell me that you see me doing something and tell me that you are proud of me. The reponse to the call is “I see you! Great job!” I am sure most parents can totally relate to this in some way.
—
Recently things around here have been pretty dicey. We’ve been flat-out with work, I’ve been seriously distracted, Heather’s pregnant (and been sick), we’re a family that loves to be outside and the weather’s been nasty, it’s the dead of winter, tensions have been high, stress has been high, tolerance – low. We have not fully gotten back into a routine after the holidays, we’re just not quite in sync.
—
And we have not heard “Watch me!” as much. And for me in particular, I almost never hear “Papi, watch me!” When they do say it, they almost always say “Mommy, watch me!” They have just not been getting the attention they need from me. They were not even asking for it, since they were not getting it. And worst of all, I have not even been fully aware this was happening. It had just been slipping away.
—
Then we went on our little vacation. We let everything go. We forgot about work, we forgot about stress, we doted on our little boys. We snuggled, we played, I threw them high in the swimming pool, we had special smoothies. It was everything we all needed and wanted.
—
About 24 hours into our get-away everything began to change. I started to hear “Papi, watch me!” and again, and again. It was as if a switch had turned back on. It was miraculous and wonderful. I had not even realized I was missing it. Papi watch me jump in the pool, watch me play in the sand, watch me make a face, watch me thow a frisbee, watch me throw a rock, watch me drink my drink, watch me write a letter in the sand;
—
Watch me just be me.
—
When we got home, we took an extra day off of work to get reoriented. At one point the boys were throwing koosh basketballs in the house into a koosh hoop – and having a great time. Owen wanted me to count how many times he was able to get it in the basket. And of course each time: “Papi, watch me!” After 31 times of getting the koosh in the basketball hoop and over 60 “Papi, watch me!”, he wanted me to start over from 1 and count again. By this time Kyle had gotten in on it and there were two sets of “Papi, watch me!” Lots and lots of watch me. And for every one, there was a:
—
I am watching you; great job!
—
And now we are home and back at it. And I don’t want the “Papi, watch me!”‘s to go away. And with our lives the way they are, I worry about that and fear they will. It’s entirely in my hands to make sure it doesn’t.
—
I (in particular) have to stay focused on the most important things in life – watching my boys.
Braydon and I are big on vacations. I won’t go into depth here about our philosophical views on the topic (I could go on and on and on), but suffice it to say: big vacas, mini vacas, it doesn’t matter– we’re just
big on taking
real breaks. We work really hard, our life is extremely intense, and we use our vacas to unwind, re-coop, and rejuvinate. Regardless of what other little breaks we’ve had during the year (and we try to take as many as possible), every May since 1996 Braydon and I have gone on an annual big vacation together (Charleston, SC for a bunch of years when we were
serious budget travelers; then once things got less extreme financially we ventured outward in the world– adventure travel in the Dominican Republic, Mexico a few times, road-tripping through France, etc.). Every May since 2005, with Kyle and Owen in tow, we’ve gone on a week-long vacation as a family of four (Jamaica when the boys were 12 months old; Turks & Caicos just after they had turned 2; Virgin Gorda this past May when they were just barely 3 — On top of our love of vacas, experiencing the Caribbean together, giving the boys this early exposure to their birthland, immersing them in places so close to their roots, has been very important to Braydon and I). These May trips have been an anchor that have kept us both grounded and able to soar. I can’t articulate the value we place on these vacations, the importance of them for underlying and enabling our life as we know it. We are grateful that we’re in the position to be able to do these trips– we’re very fortunate. But there is something weirdly reciprocal in the “vaca”>=<“real life” equation that is our life… Without the “real life” part (the ambition, the
grind, the achievement, the
intensity, the work, the
lack of sleep) the “vaca” part would not be possible–
AND– vice versa. It is a whole equation, a strange dialectical formula for living. But one cannot come without the other. So, amdist “real life” we scheme and save and budget and plan for regular vacas to keep our life in synch. The kind of life we have is not for everyone, but at least so far it somehow works for us. And luckily (luckily, luckily, luckily) it seems to be working for K & O too. We thank our lucky stars for that.
—
But now I’m pregnant. Bizarrely, (my pregnancy was very unplanned), Baby Sister is due to arrive in the middle of May. So, this year, for the first time in 12 years, Braydon and I will not be able to take our big May vacation. For the first time ever in their lives, Kyle and Owen will not be able to take a big May vacation. That night in September when we found out I was pregnant and figured out my approximate due date, the obvious implications for the May Vaca were one of the first things we thought about. We were thrilled about being pregnant. But we were already dreading the fact that we would not realistically be able to bring our boys back to their Caribbean in May of 2008.
—
So, last week we left for Sand Key, Florida… squeezing in the trip right on the cusp of the 3-months-’till-due-date (I’m due exactly 3 months from today!), right at the start of the third trimester, just before things get really crazy. Our last vaca as a family of four. It was the best thing we could have done for ourselves. All four of our selves.
—
We stayed on the beach. Although Kyle and Owen were two of just a handful of kids there, it was a great, relatively family-friendly resort. The beach was beautiful and the shelling was amazing. The boys loved the pool and the huge bubbly hot tub. The weather was gorgeous for most of the time we were there. And a huge plus for us: the hotel/resort guests included lots of black folks (always a great thing for our family) who doted on K & O, complimented them on their dreadlocks and cuteness and swimming prowess, and made us feel very welcome and at home. The boys had room service for dinner every night and were asleep by their usual 6:30-or-so bedtime. Braydon and I ate fresh grouper on our room’s porch each night while the bambinos slept. We read and slept and fed seagulls and found seashells and drank non-alcoholic drinks and walked the beach and soaked up the sun and sat by the pool and played in the sand and explored the dunes and talked talked talked and did what we do best on vacation: bonded as a family. We flew home to rain and sleet and lots of ice. But our little get-away made everything seem o.k. in the world. We came home feeling balanced and recharged and deeply connected. We hope it will keep us going for the upcoming weeks as we embark on the final phase of anticipation before we become a family of five. K & O are very aware that our next vacation will include their baby sister. And Braydon and I have a sense of how much our life is about to change with the addition of our baby girl. We’re all excited about it. But we’re also a little anxious about the shifts that will take place in our family. So this trip to Florida was extra sweet for all of us.
—
(Lots of trip photos are posted separately below
here,
here, and
here. Oh, and
here too. As always, you can click to enlarge.)
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