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Today all three of the J-M bambinos got owies. Meera’s was by far the worst. The boys got theirs from a massive scooter collision (scrapes and bruises on their knees and legs and elbows and arms… what else is new? scrapes and bruises on their knees and legs and elbows and arms are a daily occurrence for those two). Meera got hers from trying to learn to walk. And scrapes and bruises are definitely not a daily occurrence for her. She was standing up on her own, holding onto my legs, as we were standing in the driveway saying goodbye to Margie at the end of the day. And then she fell. Hard. Smack on the side of her face onto the pavement. We heard her head hit the ground and it sounded bad. And it was bad. This stuff is bound to happen when you’re learning to walk. And this is just the first of many scrapes and bruises, I’m sure. But still… poor baby. And I felt terrible that I wasn’t watching more closely to catch her when she fell (and the boys did not help with that; they berated me for the entire time she was crying). Anyway, this photo was taken shortly after the fall. It looked worse and worse as the evening progressed. To the point where when we were washing her face after dinner it was not clear what was bruises and what was blueberry stains. I’m not at all looking forward to the looks of it when she wakes up in the morning. Poor baby.

On Sunday while the boys were having the TIME OF THEIR LIVES (at the Red Sox game in Philly with my dad and Braydon), big things were happening here at home too. First of all, I just have to mention, it was sooooooo quiet. It is so quiet without K & O here. So very, very quiet. But the big deal was that with them all gone for the day, Meera and I had our first opportunity for a real Mother-Daughter Day. My mom and I have always had these from time to time over the years. I love them at age 36 as much as I did when I was 16. And I really want Meera to be able to have those kind of days too— for my mom and I these days mean things like pedicures and having coffee and going out to lunch and maybe to a movie or to a concert. Often they involve a new pair of shoes. They always involve food. They are days that don’t necessarily have a big agenda (although they might); the only priority is some time together alone. Of course over the past year Meera and I have spent a lot of time alone. But Sunday was our first real Mother-Daughter Day. Our first stop (and only real agenda item) was to get her 1-Year-Old-Portrait taken. We went and had it done, and it was a huge success. The photos are adorable. She was, in true Meera form, a perfect angel for the portrait-taking-session (when is she not a perfect angel?!? she’s so completely absolutely ridiculously angelic that is is surreal). Next we went out to lunch together (we shared a chicken souvlaki pita with tziki sauce; we both loved it). And then we strolled around in and out of shops– including a shoe store for a new pair of shoes for her (the sandals she’s wearing in photo below), coffee for me, and some other things we are keeping between us (note: part of Mother-Daughter Days is that you don’t necessarily divulge the whole truth about all of the purchases you might have made to the men of the household). Anyway, we had a very, very good time. Such a good time that she fell asleep in the car on the way home. I took this picture just as I was carrying her into the house:

It was a sweet day that ended with her current favorite meal for supper (strawberries, cheese, brown rice, and a jar of Earth’s Best Spinach & Potatoes… the only baby food still remaining in her life– she still loves the stuff), then a leisurely bath, before I rocked her to sleep for the night (something I don’t do every night but was happy to do that night as we had the whole house, all quiet and peaceful, all to ourselves). I am hopeful that we’ll have many Mother-Daughter Days in the years to come. I’ll be grateful for each and every one.

(There is something about the two photos below — both taken very early this past spring — that make me feel as if I can almost see glimpses of who Meera will become in the future)

It was a momentus Sunday in the J-M household. Mor Far came down and took the boys to their first Major League Baseball game. And not just any old MLB game – but a Red Sox Game. They played the Phillies in Inter-league play at Citizen’s Park in Philadelphia. It was a gorgeous spring day for the 4 guys (me, Mor Far, K & O) to go down for 1:30 first pitch.

This was the scene in our yard Wednesday when I arrived home from work. I pulled in the driveway laughing out loud in my car. What a hoot! And what the neighbors must think! (click to enlarge)

Two notes:

1. The boys have absolutely no idea what Spider Man is. The year they were 3, their Christmas present from Braydon and I was a huge box of dress-up clothes. Included in it were a bunch of Halloween costumes that I had bought on clearance after Halloween that fall, including two Spider Man costumes. I knew they’d love the costumes, even though I knew they had absolutely no clue what Spider Man was. They did love those costumes (because they are slick, close-fitting, whole-body costumes… what’s not to love?!), and those costumes have gotten a lot of use! One day, at a playdate at a friend’s house that same winter, they saw a toy Spider Man and recognized it from their costumes. They noticed their friend referring to it as “Spider Man,” but they interpreted what they heard as “Vitamin Man.” Since then, a year-and-a-half-later, they still –cluelessly– call Spider Man “Vitamin Man.” Whenever they wear the costumes they run around saying, “I’m Vitamin Man!” And of course, we have never corrected them.
2. The boys continue to be fascinated (verging on obsessed) with mowing. The toy lawnmowers that we bought them the summer they were 2 are still two of their most-loved toys (they pretend to mow almost daily…even in the depths of winter). They also continue to be fascinated (verging on obsessed) with our lawncare guys. Our lawn is huge and we made a decision when we were deciding whether or not to buy this house that we would have to factor in lawncare if we were to do it. It would take Braydon all weekend to mow, and we don’t want to prioritize our time that way. We did buy the house, and we’ve had someone mow ever since. But the boys wish wish wish that Braydon did the mowing. And they’ve always been absolutely enthralled with whoever else does mow. We are on our 4th lawncare guy (the first one triple and quadruple billed us on multiple occassions and we believe that although he claimed “it was his wife’s mistake” it was actually on purpose; the second one sometimes didn’t show up because he was sometimes in jail [seriously]; and the third one just didn’t do the work he was supposed to do way too often). The latest in our lawncare guys is Brian. The boys, of course, love him. And so far –knock on wood– he is working out great. He seems to take the two responsibilities that he has here seriously: #1) to act appropriately as hero/role model/BIG MAN –at least while he’s on our property– as K & O follow him around endlessly for the entire time he’s here, and #2) to mow our lawn. I can only imagine the stories he must tell about us at the bar at the end of the day. But at least while he’s here he seems to take it in stride while scenes like the one above play out.

P.S. to this post… Thursday (the day after the photo was taken) as Margie was getting ready to go home she told me that she was having a problem that day with Owen spitting. Spitting?!?! Yes, spitting. She said that he had been spitting on the ground left and right, that she had to tell him multiple times not to do it, and that he had kept on doing it despite the fact that she had repeatedly told him that it was “disgusting.” Owen, standing right there in the driveway with us as Margie was telling me this, then proceeded to spit onto the ground right in front of us to demonstrate. “OH MY GOSH!!!! OWEN?!?!” I said… and then something along the lines of, “WHAT THE HECK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!!! WHERE THE HECK DID YOU LEARN THAT FROM?????” With a look of sheer innocence on his face, he looked me right in the eyes and said, “That’s what Brian does Mommy.” Well, that cleared it up instantly. I turned to Margie and said, “Brian is the mowing guy.” “Ohhhhhhhhhh…” she said, relieved to finally understand what was at the root of it, “it’s chew!!!!” “No,” said Owen, “it’s spit!!!!!” “Whatever it is,” I said, “it is not o.k.,” and then he rode off on his bike and nobody has seen him spit since. I’m sure Brian will hear all about it from Owen when he comes to mow next week.

summer = grilling BBQ chicken

Today was K & O’s last day of school. It is hard for them to end the year. Very hard. They love school. LOVE SCHOOL. Today they were both very sad, weepy, emotionally in turmoil. (Owen cried a river, and Kyle even threw up…twice… today –he was that upset). Oh how they’ll miss their teachers, their classrooms, their school, their daily play with their friends. Oh how sad it is to end the school year. Oh how in love with their Waldorf School they are (and for the time being at least, if they are this happy and thriving and self-confident and assured and rooted with it, then we are surely sticking with it). They got through their little year-closing-ceremonies ok. And Owen managed to have one last hurrah in the school playground creek (the mud-covered clothes are currently being soaked by our home’s Laundry Master, Braydon). Braydon is looking forward to a summer-long break from that creek that causes so many laundry problems. I am looking forward to a summer-long break from that darn school-lunch-making routine five nights a week. And as much as they don’t fully realize it now, the boys are in store for a splendid childhood summer. And since today was, afterall, the last day of school, tomorrow is, therefor, our official First Day of Summer. So, yet another era ends and a new one begins. As I say to the boys every single night as I’m tucking them into bed: “Today is all done, and tomorrow is a new day.”

(For other posts in this series, click here and here.)

This happened a few weeks ago, but it keeps sitting in my mind. So, I’m going to blog about it.

I was out alone with Kyle and Owen on a gorgeous Saturday morning. We were doing some errands and we were having a great time. We stopped at our favorite gardening center, Bucks Country Gardens. It is a beautiful, fun place to visit with the boys. They love looking at all the flowers, the fountains, the pond, etc. And the plants there are spectacular. We were there for quite awhile. The place was relatively empty and we had fun roaming around feeling like we virtually had the grounds to ourselves. We took our time picking out two big potted plants — one for Kyle and one for Owen. The plants were identical, of course (because if it were up to K & O they would still have everything –down to the socks on their feet– be identical… but that is a whole other story). Anyway, we had gone to the register, I had paid for the plants, and we were walking through the place to leave. Kyle was right ahead of me, carrying his plant. Owen was right behind me, carrying his plant. We had almost made it to the parking lot when I hear, behind me, a man’s voice, kind of loudly, saying/shouting, “Hey, little boy! Little boy!” I turned around and saw that Owen, who obviously heard it too, had stopped just a few feet behind me to turn around to see what was going on. A young man who was clearly an employee there (he was dressed in the Bucks Country Gardens employee t-shirt), was running out of his office, toward Owen, still shouting to him, “Little boy! Wait! Little boy!” I was standing there as I watched my Owen, sweet little boy that he is, standing there doing his best to be careful with his big potted plant, with his back to me, waiting to see what this man wanted. As the guy approached he glanced at me, we made eye contact for a second, and then, to Owen he said, “Are you lost?” Owen, surely confused, didn’t respond. The man repeated it, “Are you lost?” I heard Owen say, “No.” The man said, pointedly, “Well, then, are you o.k.?” Owen said, “Yes.” And then the man said, “Well, where is your mommy???” Owen turned slightly to nod toward me and said, “She’s right there.” I quickly put my hand on Owen’s shoulder, and, for lack of anything better to say at the moment, simply said, “I am his mommy” to the guy, and then led Owen and Kyle to the car to go home.

When Kyle and Owen were babies they were not very interested in toys. Meera is the opposite. She loves toys. When Kyle and Owen first came home they had absolutely no clue whatsoever what a toy was (they had never had any exposure to toys). We spent a lot of time, in the beginning, trying gently coax them into playing and trying to teach them how to play. It was a big learning curve. It took many months before they really began truly playing with toys. Meera, on the other hand, has loved her little baby toys from the very very start. This is something that Braydon and I have noticed, thought about, and talked a lot about over the past year. It is hard to not do the compares and contrasts. And the Baby Toy Subject is a big one. To this day Kyle and Owen are not really big on toys. Don’t get me wrong, they have plenty of toys, they do play with them, and they have certain toys that they do genuinely love (mainly, their airplanes), but they just aren’t ‘Toy Boys.’ And, noticeably, they have never clung to toys, wanted to carry toys around with them, or coveted other kids’ toys, etc. like we’ve seen other kids their age do. They have (in comparison to other, more ‘typical,’ American kids), very little interest in toys (they’d much prefer to climb trees or ride their bikes or play with sticks in the yard). We can, literally, count on one hand the number of toys that K & O have been attached to in their five years. The very first toy that they actually extensively played with and seemed to actually “get” was a little plastic ‘boombox’ baby toy. Kyle, especially, loved the thing. I can still remember standing in the check-out line at Toys R Us when I bought that boombox. They were a little over 11 months old and I was desperate to try to find something that they might like. I bought a whole cartful of stuff hoping that something would stick. Well, the boombox stuck. It was a big hit and it entertained them for hours. They’d push the yellow button on top, the little music would start to play, and they’d start dancing their little tushes off. It was so cute and so hysterical. They’d boogie boogie boogie shaking their little barely-one-year-old booties and it was impossible to not smile (or laugh) when you’d see it. Then the music would stop (it only plays for about 30 seconds) and they’d start clapping like crazy. [[[Gosh, we loved those little babies!]]] It was very, very cute for anyone and everyone who saw it. But for Braydon and I, it was more than “cute.” It was a big deal. Because it was their first time really enjoying a toy. When they were 12 months old we travelled with them to Jamaica for our first family vacation. We brought with us just a handful of toys for the two of them– including that boombox. We have fond memories of the two of them boogying down in Jamaica with that boombox. Their love for it lasted a long, long time and eventually it got put away in the basement with all the other baby stuff “just in case” we ever had another baby. Well, here we are. I dug out that boombox a few weeks ago for Little Miss. Kyle immediately fell in love with it all over again. And even though we all know that it is really for Meera now, Kyle and Owen are playing with it just as much as she is. And that is a lot, considering that their little sister loves this boombox almost as much as they did. (Pictures below are of Kyle and Meera.)

The boys in our suite on vacation in Jamaica, age 12 months —
the boombox is on the table behind them (Kyle in front, Owen in back).
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Blast from the past: the boys at the exact age that Meera is now (Owen on left, Kyle on right).
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1. Meera spent the bulk of her weekend continuing on her quest to master the fine art of walking. She is very, very close. She can take 2-3 steps on her own now (although she does this infrequently, and really only when she wants to get somewhere — mainly to Mommy — very badly and is feeling very focused). She is cruising around everywhere holding on to anything she can hold onto. Our days are numbered until she’s a fully mobile, independent being. We’re slowly but surely baby-proofing the house and trying to not be too sad about our baby becoming a toddler.

2. Kyle’s highlight of the weekend was that while at T-Ball today he hit a ball (from a thrown pitch, not off the T), “that went into the outfield between second and third base.” He ran the bases as fast as he could and made it home. He was super proud. Saturday morning the boys went to the golf course with Braydon to hit golf balls. Braydon reported that Kyle was hitting the ball 90 yards. Kyle was very proud.
Later he (K) heard Braydon saying to me, “I can’t believe he’s hitting it almost 100 yards!?!” and Kyle was very annoyed with this, and wanted me to know that it was “not almost one hundred, it was ninety! I hit the ball ninety!” (as though “almost 100” is not quite as good as “90”). Anyhooo… golfing with Papi was #2 on Kyle’s list of ‘highs’ from the weekend (photo above taken by Braydon with his cell phone).

3. At a really fun birthday party on Saturday afternoon, a kids’ music-yoga group performed (very fun combo: kids’ yoga and kids’ music all rolled into one!)… and all three of our kids loved it. Owen sat with Meera during a portion of the concert and it was so cute (photo above taken by Braydon with his cell phone). We tend to lose sight of the unusual make-up of our family as we get lost in the daily grind, but then, every once in a while, a little scene plays out (such as captured above) and we’re reminded. Anyway… lately Owen is spending a ton of time trying to be the best big brother ever to Meera. He can be a bit overbearing for Meera at times (read between the lines there: he can be waaaaaaaay tooooooooooooo much for her to bear), and we’ve had to work really hard lately to try to keep Owen’s unyielding love for her in check. But this weekend we seemed to finally have some sort of breakthrough when we took some time to have a little ‘training session’ with Owen and Meera early Saturday morning. As a result, Owen is now fully able (and about 97.6% trustworthy) to ‘walk’ Meera around (i.e., standing behind her and having her hold onto his two hands while they walk all over the place with him supporting her from behind). At the birthday party on Saturday Owen spent a large chunk of time showing off his brotherly skills… making many 5 and 6 year old girls insanely envious (the girls love “Baby Meera“), which, in turn, made Owen insanely proud.
In other Owen News… Tonight at dinner, while Braydon and I were eating this delicious salad, Kyle and Owen were eating hot dogs and beans. And… drumroll please for a new J-M Eating Record… Owen ate 4… yes, count them, four… hot dogs. C-R-A-Z-Y. Crazy amounts of food are required to fuel that boy’s crazy energy.
We’re embarking on a big week– tomorrow is the first day of the last week of school for the boys.

Strawberry Season Salad
(made up by me but inspired by the overabundance of strawberries here right now and the sad reality that strawberry season will be ending shortly)
On a bed of baby greens, layer halved fresh strawberries, thinly sliced vidalia onion, crumbled goat cheese, and toasted pecans (I’d actually prefer almonds or pine nuts instead, but we didn’t have any on hand). Drizzle with balsamic vinegar and olive oil. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Yum!

I’ve posted before about Kyle and Owen’s twinspeak. As they get older their twinspeak becomes more and more sophisticated (and thus more and more cryptic to all those outside of their tight duo). Braydon and I will spend huge chunks of time trying hard to decipher what, exactly, they mean by certain parts of their linguistics. I, especially, am fascinated with it. This is one of the parts of raising twins that I really enjoy — I find it strangely entertaining and fun to take on the intellectual challenge of trying to figure out exactly what their phraseology means and how to use their language correctly. They correct me if I get it wrong (believe me!). And they seem to get a little kick out of it when — on the rare occasions — I get it right and use one of their pieces of lingo appropriately. And yet, at the same time, they would never actually use a piece of their twinspeak in direct communication with me. Maybe that is, in part, why I feel some sort of bizarrely deep satisfaction with figuring out how they are using certain words, the origins of the words, and the various nuances to their usage. This part of living with them is like a living, breathing, 24×7 Mensa-challenge-brain-teaser! I spend countless hours observing intently, listening carefully, and trying to figure it out. Here are the latest two that I have mastered from their twinsy-talk.

• “Eins Eins!” This is a phrase, an exclamation, and also an adjective. The only translation I can think of that sort of comes close to it is the adjective “super” in Spanish. As in, in Spanish, “super lindo!” (very, very attractive), or “super delicioso!” (extra very much yummy), or “super rapido!” (so fast), etc. The K-O “eins eins” is often used similarly. They might say, for example, that really good ice cream is “eins eins tasty!” Getting ready to get on the plane for vacation is “eins eins exciting!” Meera is “eins eins cute!” Or they might say, “Mommy’s new shoes are eins eins beautiful!” But the ‘eins eins’ is used in more ways than simply as an emphasizer. Sometimes it can be used to substitute for “pretty” or “nice” — as in, (when looking out the window at some birds eating at our birdfeeder one morning), “Owen, look at the eins eins yellow bird!” or (when talking about a friend from school one day), “Kyle, he is our eins eins friend, right?” And sometimes it is a stand-alone exclamation, sort of similar to how you might use a ‘honk’ of your car horn to sort of say ‘hello’ to someone you know as you’re driving by them on the street. One boy might be running, or riding his bike or scooter, very fast past the other, and then just as he passes by he will very quickly shout out “Eins! Eins!” to his brother. The most popular usage of this term, however, is in relation to their socks. Certain socks of theirs are “Eins Eins Slippery Socks” (all caps; as in a title). Almost all Eins Eins Slippery Socks are sports socks. But not all sports socks are Eins Eins Slippery Socks (I’ve learned this the hard way). When wearing Eins Eins Slippery Socks they like to slide around on the hardwood floors and make a big production of it — “Look at these Eins Eins Slippery Socks!” / “Owen are you wearing Eins Eins Slippery Socks?!!” / “Kyle, you need to put on some Eins Eins Slippery Socks!” / etc. The origin of this “eins! eins!” thing seems to lie somehow with the show Little Einsteins, but I have yet to come up with any working theory as to exactly who/what/when/why/how this derived. And, as with all twinspeak, the “eins eins!” is only ever used between the two of them and/or in the presence of each other.
• “Bad Kitty!” – “Good Kitty!” This is never used in relation to a cat. In fact, they don’t call cats kittys (according to them, “Only babies call cats kitties.”). As far as I have been able to figure it out, “Bad Kitty!” – “Good Kitty!” is used in only two very specific circumstances. Either, a] in response to the driver of a vehicle’s reaction to their efforts to get that driver to honk their horn for them, or b] in relation to “box trucks” (which is K-O twinspeak for ‘mail delivery trucks’; i.e., a Fed Ex truck or a UPS truck). First A… at some point they learned that universal hand motion that can sometimes get a big mac-truck driver to honk their horn (holding their arm up in the air and pulling their fist down to motion to pull the horn). That eventually morphed into them doing this motion to every single vehicle driver that they see passing by on any road at any time. So they’ll spend hours just doing this motion (extremely enthusiastically) to cars/trucks/motorcycles/anything driving by on any road they happen to be near. Probably about 1/4th of the time they manage to get the driver to honk at them. When the driver honks, they –every single time– jump wildly up and down screaming “GOOD KITTY! GOOD KITTY!” When the person does not honk they –every single time– stand there disgusted and forlorn saying “Bad Kitty! Bad Kitty!” until the next vehicle comes into sight. Next B… When a “box truck” pulls into our driveway, then it is enthusiastically greeted with shouts of “GOOD KITTY! GOOD KITTY!” When a “box truck” is spotted driving in or out of a neighbor’s driveway then shouts of “Bad Kitty!” are sent in its direction. Origin of the term = the movie Madagascar II: Escape 2 Africa. In this movie an old lady repeatedly and comically tries to shoot the lion, all the while yelling “bad kitty!” at the lion. How and why this somehow morphed into K & O’s linguistic use of the phrase in relation to horn-honking and ‘box-trucks’ is way, way, way beyond me.