Baby Squared : summer

An Adventure Gone Terribly Awry

Roper — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 19:19:00 GMT

Let me preface this tale by saying that I hate, hate, hate, hate, HATE hot, humid weather. I can't stand it. I wilt in it. I am physically and mentally uncomfortable in it. I become cranky and lazy and irritable, and you pretty much don't want to be around me. This is is exacerbated by the fact that we only have air conditioning in our bedroom and the girls' room, and the rest of our house traps heat like a ... a ... heat trap. (The weather affects my ability to construct similes as well.)

Unfortunately, Elsa and Clio are not fans of hot weather either. They've been cranky and whiney and tantrum-y the past few days. In fact, on Saturday, Clio threw a fit of such ferocity that she actually managed to lock herself and Elsa in the nursery as a result. I forget what the inciting issue was, but Clio for some reason wanted to get out of the room, and was trying to open the door while I was changing Elsa. She somehow managed to turn the little lock knob thingy on the doorknob, unbeknownst to me, and when I closed the door behind me to go downstairs and get a particular library book to read to them before their nap, it locked. There are locks on all three bedroom doors in our house, each with separate keys, because the house used to be a rental property, where multiple people lived and each had their own room. But when we bought the house, we were only were given keys to two of them. Guess which one we didn't have?

It was horrible. I tried to get the girls to come turn the button, but they coudn't. Elsa started freaking out and crying "Come to me, mommy!" which was more than a little heartbreaking. (Then "I'm itchy!" which was just weird...) Fortunately our next door neighbor, who is a semi-retired painter, had an extension ladder, and we were able to climb up and into the window of the girls' room. Immediately after we got the door open, in a fit of primal, maternal anger / fear, I took a screwdriver and took that damned doorknob out. Alastair later pointed out that we could have just put tape or something over the locking button until we bought a new doorknob. But it was 90 degrees out, and my Mama Bear adrenaline had been tripped. Screw reasonable thought.

Alas, it turned out that Clio's door-locking fit on Saturday was just a warm-up. But let me back up a little: When I woke up Sunday morning, I had the immediate and urgent need to get everyone in the car and go somewhere. Not only because being in the car would mean AC, but because I felt suddenly, extremely claustrophobic. Not just in the house, but in our town and in our life in general. I didn't want to go to the usual playgrounds or the usual pond where the girls like to swim. Where did I want to go? The Swiss Alps would have been nice. Tibet, perhaps. I would have even settled for a beach north of Boston, but knew that the traffic would be horrendous and the parking impossible. So, I decided we should pack a lunch and drive west, out toward Mount Wachusett, maybe have lunch near the big reservoir if we could.

We told the girls we were going on an adventure. "An a-vencha!" they said happily. Clio put her Curious George doll up on her shoulders and said she wanted to go on a Bear Hunt. (In the book, by Michale Rosen / Helen Oxenbury, the father puts the little kid on his shoulders at some point. So, now Clio thinks that's a key part of any family Bear Hunt. Too true.) Things started off well. The AC felt good. The scenery was lovely, if slightly wilted and hazy. We stopped at a grocery / orchard store somewhere in the middle of nowhere to buy food for our picnic, and the girls ran around pointing at things and picking up ears of corn and asking to hold apples and staying on the "cute" side of that fine cute/annoying line that young children walk in such places as grocery stores.

Then, when we were standing at the checkout, for reasons which still remain a mystery, Clio started crying and asking for her ga-ga (pacifier). It was one of those slow-build cries that you know is going to be really bad -- lip starts to tremble, eyes start to fill with tears, mouth turns down at the corners, and then, all of a sudden, she's hyperventilating and screaming. I want my gaga! I want my gaga! I wanna go home and have my gaga!

And, my friends, she proceeded to scream and cry, non-stop, for the following hour and a half. Through our "picnic" (if you can call it that) and the entire ride home. Sometimes her request changed: I want medicine. I want to sit with you, mommy. I want to go home. And, because one screaming two-year-old really isn't difficult enough to handle, Elsa decided she had better join in, too. So, from lunch onward, she also screamed for her gaga, for medicine, to sit up front with me, etc. At one point, the two of them were screaming at eachother. It was a prime example of the absurdist toddler argument: Clio screamed that she wanted her yellow ducky gaga, and then Elsa screamed that she wanted her red doggie gaga. But somehow these events were mutually exclusive in their little, addled toddler brains. So it became:

Clio: I WANT MY YELLOW DUCKY GAGA!!

Elsa: NO! I WANT MY RED DOGGIE GAGA!

Clio: NO! DON'T SAY I WANT MY RED DOGGIE GAGA! I WANT MY YELLOW DUCKY GAGA!

Elsa: NO! I WANT MY RED DUCKY GAGA!!

And on it went. In the midst of all this, of course, Alastair and I started getting snappy with each other -- nearly impossible to avoid in this sort of situation, we find; especially when it's 96 degrees out and your'e trying to drive. I started wondering: are we doing something wrong? Is there something wrong with our parenting technique such that 1.) We are powerless to stop this 2.) This started in the first place? I mean, we did everything. We reassured. We held. We comforted. We tried to speak stupid "Toddlerese." We yelled. We tried to use the Putumayo CD the girls love as a bargaining chip. Noth. ing. worked. I was seriously on the brink of tears myself. (And actually did cry about it later, after we'd gotten them down for their nap, in sheer frustration / exhaustion.)

Of course, when we were approximately thirty seconds away from our house, they both stopped. And by the time we got them inside and upstairs into their cribs, they were both downright jolly. Guess they wanted to come home as badly as I wanted to get away from it.

And how was YOUR weekend??

And we're back.

Roper — Tue, 02 Sep 2008 01:17:00 GMT

Home again, after a week at family camp in New Hampshire, followed by a few days in Vermont, where Alastair played in a folk festival. I am pleased to report that we had a really lovely time. In fact, this is the first time we've gone away with the girls that I wasn't dying to come home by the end of it. The secret: expectation management. As I mentioned in my last post, I went into this vacation with my eyes wide open, knowing it was going to be tiring and chaotic and nothing like pre-child trips of yore. But I very consciously decided not to be grumpy about this, and try, instead, to savor what is so fabulous and rewarding about having Clio and Elsa along for the ride.

Like introducing them to the wonderful game of bocce. The balls were a little too heavy for the girls to pick up, so we played a little-known, ancient variation on the game where you run up and down the bocce court waving your hands over your head and squealing, and occasionally kicking one of the balls. (It's still played this way in a certain village in Sardinia, I'm told.)

Really, with a little creative adaptation and irresponsible parenting, lots of games can be adapted to include twin toddlers. We're going to lobby for Baby Pong to be included in the 2012 Olympics. (Please note: no children were harmed in the making of this photo.)

We also spent a lot of time on the swings, of which there were many. The girls currently refer to swings / the act of swinging as "whee!"

Predictably, the girls weren't enthusiastic about spending time in the lake, but on one occasion they did a little wading and splashing.

We also managed to steal a little time for ourselves, with help from many wonderful folks on the island, first and foremost Alastair's parents -- or "Abu" and "Jaycee" as the girls call them these days. (Abu is short for Abuelito, and Jaycee is some kind of corruption/blend of "Grandma J" and "Joyce" we think...). I managed to make some respectable headway in "Middlemarch," Alastair defended his crown as men's singles tennis champ, and we made it out to some of our favorite evening activities. Like talent night.

Yep, that's me in the middle, channeling Steven Tyler, singing "Walk this Way" at the talent show, with the kickass staff band. I sounded like crap, but I totally had the moves. (And the snakeskin pants.)

The girls did their share of partying, too. They loved the pre-dinner cocktail parties at people's cabins, where they did carb-loading that would put Michael Phelps to shame.

Of course, it wasn't all Aerosmith and Pepperidge Farm all the time. Elsa was teething, and had some rough days, when she'd periodically start wailing miserably for no reason. Clio had a couple of all-out screaming fits, both diaper-rash and fatigue-induced, right as lunch started, so I ended up back at the cabin eating PB&J while she napped. And the mosquitos were vicious. Still, it was easily our best family vacation yet. More thoughts on that to come, but for now I leave you with a family portrait, which may be a serious contender for this year's holiday card....

Oh, and for anyone who's been waiting up nights for the answer's to last week's trivia challenge:

1. D (Clio went through a phase of screaming before bed unless we stayed there and rubbed her back. We did it a few times then finally realized we just had to let her cry it out and break the cycle. It worked.)

2. D (All of the above. She seems to have developed a whole new crying vocabulary of late.)

3. B (Elsa has been fighting wearing a bib when she's overtired. And once she refuses, Clio refuses too. Joy!)

4. A (They can say 'Thank you'! Sometimes...)

5. C, D, F (Blow her nose, wear a barette, totally f*** up our cable box)

6. A, B, D, E (Say please when cajoled, climb up the slide, walk down stairs by herself, has tried to lift the cat by her tail)

7. True, regrettably

8. True. (I'm almost certain)

Thanks for playing!

Top 5 Cutest Vacation Moments

Roper — Sat, 02 Aug 2008 00:50:00 GMT

So, we've spent the last few days at my aunt's house on the Jersey shore (Ocean City), along with lots and lots of relatives. It was very sweet to bring the girls to a place that is the source of such fond childhood memories for me. My family used to go down every summer for a few days or a week, when it was my grandmother's summer house. Time spent there consisted of long, sunburned days at the beach, playing in the sand and trying to catch the perfect wave on a boogie board; late afternoons reading or playing cards with Grandma on the porch; nights playing miniature golf and arcade games (Skeeball, anyone? Paperboy? OutRun?) and going on rides on the boardwalk.

I'm tired of complaining about how vacations aren't relaxing anymore. They aren't. And it sucks. Indeed. But it's also a whole new kind of rewarding to introduce your children to...well, everything. And, to be fair, grandparents and cousins and aunts were all very helpful with the girls, and A. and I actually did get to sneak away on our own a few times.

Unfortunately, Alastair's got the camera with the pics, and he's on tour in DC while I'm up here in NY at the in-laws' house for a couple of days, so I can't provide a pictoral summary of our adventures, but will do so as soon as A. and I are both in the same state again. In the meantime, I give you the top 5 cutest vacay moments....

5. Elsa repeatedly running down the wet sand on the beach toward the ocean, squealing with glee, and then, any time a wave approached, turning around and running in the other direction, saying, "No! No! No!"

4. Clio riding on the Tin Lizzie kiddie ride at Wonderland Pier, holding onto the steering wheel for dear life, looking slightly in shock the whole time, only sneaking quick, sideways glances at us as we waved to her like lunatics from the side. We weren't sure if she was terrified or was having the time of her life and just being a very responsible driver. It turned out to be the latter. When it was time to get off, she cried for more. Next stop: the fire engine ride!

3. Elsa and Clio dancing and twirling around on the pavement in front of the "Music Express" ride. (Their thrill-seeking mother watched from the Spanish Galleon ride, with her l'il brother. We pretended to barf on the teenaged kids in front of us, and they totally freaked out. Heh heh.)

2. Elsa and Clio sitting in their booster seats for dinner after a particularly cranky afternoon, eating peanut butter and black raspberry jam sandwiches, jam covering approximately 80% of the surface of their faces, arms, and hands.

1. Elsa and Clio playing Ring Around the Rosy (or "Ashy" as they call it) with their second cousins (is that what my cousins' kids are?): four sweet-as-can-be boys ranging in age from seven to thirteen. They were absolutely awesome with the gals, and watching them feed their Ashy addiction was about the sweetest thing ever. I think E & C really enjoyed having four big brothers for a few days.

1a. (Because a Top 6 list just doesn't work....) Elsa and Clio playing Ring around the Rosy with each other -- holding hands, dancing, and giggling when they "all fall down." I haven't yet managed to capture this on video, but I must. Seriously. It could be a frickin' commercial for a fertility clinic.

Pics to come soon!

Babes on the Bay

Roper — Sun, 13 Jul 2008 23:53:00 GMT

Apologies for the long pause between postings. We've been away for the past few days, staying with family friends in beautiful Marion, on Buzzards Bay, near the Cape. We brought the girls down last summer, when they were just six months old, and as we were leaving today we were told that if we brought them back next summer, too, that was it; we had to come down with them every year from there on out. Fine with me! It's a beautiful spot, and has all the elements of my ideal family summer getaway: the ocean, green grass and shady trees, an outdoor shower, shelves full of books, big family dinners, an easy, do-what-you-want-when-you-want sort of feel.

Not that we were exactly lounging around. The gals kept us good and busy. But it was easier in some ways than last year, when they were still nursing every three hours and didn't sleep through the night. And this year they could actually do things -- besides just smile and spit up. They colored with markers (none were swallowed, as far as I know) and kicked balls around in the yard with the big kids. They played with all manner of toys, representing three generations (A 1950s stacking toy, 1970s Fisher Price people, a present day Spongebob sprinkler). And, to my delight, they discovered the joys of playing in the sand -- something I always loved to do as a kid.

They were not, however, fans of the ocean itself. We tried to get them to dip their feet in, but they would have none of it. Even when we were holding them up in our arms, while we stood in ankle-deep water, they were totally freaked out. This was the first time they've experienced the ocean with enough awareness to be frightened by it. I can't say I blame them -- the wind, the waves, the noise, the vastness. Definitely a little intimidating. So, we stuck to terra firma, for fun with Mom's sunglasses...

....and waiting-for-grilled-cheese-sandwiches from the beach grill antics.

I'd be lying if I said it was a relaxing weekend. With twin toddlers, I don't think a genuinely relaxing vacation is possible, unless, perhaps, you bring a nanny along. (Not that I know this from experience, alas...) There's just too much packing and schlepping and chasing and cleaning and feeding and dressing and undressing and sunblock slathering for it to feel exactly "restful." Gone are the days of leisurely walks, falling asleep while reading a good book, playing an uninterrupted game of cards or Scrabble. (Do I know how to party or what?) But it was, nevertheless, extremely refreshing. Good company, good eats, gorgeous scenery, etc. And as devoted as I am to you, my fellow Babbleonians, it was nice to leave the Internet behind for a few days.

Before I go -- one last photo, of yours truly.

Can anyone guess why I am wearing an eye patch? (Made last summer by a nine-year-old boy, for playing pirates)

A. To draw attention away from my unnaturally pale limbs and shamefully un-beachy attire

B. Because that morning, Elsa had inadvertently poked me in the eye with a paint color chip, and when we arrived in Marion, for some reason, it started hurting again, like a motherf*er, and I got tired of holding my hand over it to keep it closed.

C. Because I'm a pirate. (Duh)

D. All of the above