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  • Our Very Own Stroller Derby

    As I write this, the girls are downstairs with Alastair, whining and yelling and crying, as they seem to have been for most of the morning. It was my day to sleep in, and I did it with a vengeance, and earplugs. I probably should go down and give Alastair a hand. Wait....they're quieting down...must mean their mac and cheese is ready...Thank God.

     

    Who knows why they're suddenly in terrible moods? Maybe they realize that Christmas is over, and they're feeling the inevitable let-down? I suppose that's one advantage (perhaps the only) of their birthdays being on the 28th. At least, it may prove to be a comfort to them in future years. Just as the thrill of new Christmas toys is starting to wear off, they get another little hit three days later. Actually, we reserved a number of their Christmas gifts for their birthday, because it just would have been too overwhelming for them to open them all at once. As it was, Christmas morning was a little manic.

     

    They got some great presents from the grandparents, as well as far-flung uncles and aunts, family friends, etc. But I would like to spend this post congratulating myself (and Alastair) for the awesomeness of the gifts we gave them. There were really only three things -- we wanted to keep it simple; besides, what do they know from presents? -- but well chosen.

     

     

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  • Step away from the peacock, Ma'am.

    We took the girls to the Franklin Park Zoo this weekend, along with some friends of ours and their almost-two-year-old girl and new baby boy. The last time Alastair and I went there -- childless, unmarried, living our rock and roll (er, folk music and cultural events?) lifestyle -- we had a traumatic experience, wherein one of the gorillas repeatedly vomited and ate it in what we think was an attempt to repulse and scatter the gawking crowd. (It worked. And I can't say I blamed the ape.) So we went to the zoo with some trepidation. But we knew that the girls would enjoy it. It's fun to have them finally be at a point where they seem able to absorb and appreciate new experiences like this.

     

    Within minutes of entering the park, Elsa started stalking a peacock. It was just walking around -- I guess they let them roam free; they can't fly too far -- and she charged right toward the thing, determined to touch it. I literally had to hold her back. She is absolutely fearless when it comes to other living creatures, to a sometimes dangerous degree. Then, I suppose it's confusing for a toddler: you're constantly bombarded with images of animals in books, toys, etc., you're always being asked what they say, and you're encouraged to touch or get up close to some of them. (Pets, pett-able barnyard animals, etc.) Then, all of a sudden, here's this awesome looking bird walking around a few feet away, and your mom won't let you get near it? What gives?

     

    Anyway, here is a photographic retrospective of Elsa as she answers the call of the wild. Perhaps she will grow up to be a veterinarian. Or a taxidermist.

     

    At 7-1/2 months, Elsa proves that (unlike her mother) she is a dog person. (NB: she is also a cat person.)

     

    Stalking chickens at 15 months. Note rooster-like clothing color scheme. (Not intentional.)

     

    Our budding Dian Fossey, on Saturday.

     

    Also on Saturday, checking out giraffes and zebras with mom, from a safe distance. (I'm not really a giraffe person.)

     

    Clio kept a bit more space between herself and the animals. She was more interested in the structural and architectural aspects of the zoo: manholes, fences, benches, etc. There was a moment where she seemed a little freaked out by the gorillas. Maybe (knowing Clio) she just felt sorry for them, being contained like that. We didn't see any vomit ingestion this time, but it was still a little upsetting to see the gorillas there behind glass. Their gazes and gestures are so eerily human. Not that I'm anti-zoo or anything; I think that having gorillas (and other animals, particularly endangered ones) in captivity is probably good for raising awareness and support, which, ultimately helps protect their brethren in the wild. But it's kind of weird, if you think about it, to go gawk at a bunch of unknowing martyrs for the cause of conservation when we're the ones threatening their environments to begin with. You know?

     

    I'm pretty sure Clio (in the foreground) was thinking the same thing when we took this picture:

     

     

     


  • Wall-to-wall Wonderland

    We spent last weekend visiting the girls' paternal grandparents, who live in the 'burbs outside of New York. It was a delightful visit, with lots of time for the babes to charm the pants off various neighbors and relatives, including their nonagenarian great grandmother and great-great aunt, a first cousin twice removed (or was it a second cousin once removed?), and my uncle and aunt.

     


    Elsa now clearly understands what a camera is for. Clio prefers to keep things candid.

     

    But the best feature of the trip, by far, were the great expanses of nice, soft, wall-to-wall carpet at the grandparents' house and the great-grandmother's apartment. For the weekend, the whole world was the babies' play mat. We could just plop them down on the floor, scatter some toys around, keep an eye on minor hazards like tablecloths and tippy antique plant stands, and they were happy as can be. (And when I say "toys," that includes plastic measuring spoons, rubber spatulas and other cooking utensils, which are easily as fascinating and delicious to the girls as any plush or plastic gizmo.) We didn't have to put down a blanket or lunge to keep small heads from thumping against the hardwood, like at home. (We don't always get there in time.) So, while I'm not generally a fan of the carpeting aesthetic, I have to say: excellent for babies.

     

    Elsa took advantage of the choice floor conditions to work on her crawling, and made some major progress. At her great-grandmother's apartment, she took her first real crawling "steps" -- a good five or six bonafide hands-and-knees strides forward. The goal: the wheel of great-grandma's wheelchair. Fascinating! The girl's going to be a mechanical engineer, and is clearly a genius. She did some more crawling here and there throughout the weekend, although a lot of the time what seems to happen is she'll go for a bit, then bend one leg in and end up back in a seated position, much to her own dismay. Other times she'll crawl a little, then seem to get tired and revert to commando creeping.

     

     

     The girls were quite smitten with their great-grandmother's singing birthday bear.

     

    Clio, meanwhile, still doesn't seem to have any interest in crawling. We put her on her stomach sometimes, and sometimes she'll hang out there for a little while, or even creep a tiny bit, but then she gets annoyed and wants to sit up, which she still hasn't figured out how to do on her own from lying down. I keep telling myself there's no reason to be concerned; she's just going at her own pace. Maybe she'll be one of these babies who skips crawling all together and goes straight to ballroom dancing.

     

     

    Grandma and Elsa, overachievers. Note carpet, wooden spoon. 

     

    I will hand it to both babies: they managed to co-exist incredibly well with their grandparents' two golden retrievers, one of them a fairly young and boisterous dog, both of them very excited about licking, pawing, and otherwise interacting with the babies. We started by having the babies look at the dogs from behind a safety gate, from a bit of a distance (Clio was, characteristically, a little freaked out by them at first) and then, once they were comfortable with them, let them get to know each other a little better. The dogs were reportedly very sad after we left.

     

     

     Clio with Aki and her "Abuelito." Abuelito (Grandpa), it should be noted, has not a drop of Latin blood in him; it's just what he wants to be called because he likes the sound of it.

     

     

     Elsa and her new pal, Niko

     

    One more event that must be mentioned: the feeding of applesauce. I get along very well with my mother-in-law (Hi, mother-in-law!) but we did have a difference of opinion over the matter of applesauce when the girls were first starting to eat solids. I'd heard that it was a good idea to start with vegetables, before fruit, so the babies don't get used to the sweet taste of fruit and then refuse vegetables. Joyce, on the other hand, swore by applesauce for Alastair, and reasoned (quite reasonably) that if you want to get them used to eating real food, you're better off starting with something they'll actually like. Well, I stubbornly stuck to my vegetable guns. But this weekend, the girls had applesauce for the first time, and their grandmother did the honors. They loved it, of course.

     

     




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About the Blogger

Jane Roper

Jane Roper in Boston

One baby? Piece of cake. Try two. This working mother gives you the inside scoop on the ultimate in extreme parenting: twins.

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