Baby Squared : traveling with twins

Not Yet

Roper — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 13:35:00 GMT

This is one of the girls' favorite phrases these days. Can you please give Elsa a turn with that toy now? Not yet. Are you all done with your English muffin? Not yet. Are you ready to get off the potty now? Not yet.

As the girls grow and change by leaps and bounds, it's amazing how much more able they are to communicate their needs and wants, and it's delightful to see them able to participate in an increasing number of activities. This weekend while we were in Maine visiting my parents (and giving my sister in law a baby shower -- my first nephew is on the way!) it was fun to see them doing things that just a few months ago they would not have been able to do: playing downstairs in the basement playroom independently for a good fifteen minutes or so while the grownups were upstairs -- without needing toy refereeing; riding tricycles and actually starting to use the pedals; making sardonic comments. (OK, this isn't exactly true. That is, I'm not sure it was intended to be sardonic. But if it hadn't been spoken by a two and and a half year old, it certainly would have come across that way. Then again, it was Clio, who has a pretty good sense of humor. I said: "Clio, how about we go upstairs and take a bath now." She replied, "How about no.")

Clio played with my old childhood dollhouse for nearly half an hour, on her own. Amazing!

And yet, we still bump up against things that we realize -- often after the fact -- they aren't quite ready for. The not yets. Like when, while trying to keep them occupied for a little while when we were getting dinner ready, and for lack of appropriate entertainment choices, we put on the movie The Cat in the Hat -- the live-action one with Mike Myers. It's a pretty trippy movie -- not to mention a trippy book, that I never quite liked as a kid, as I've mentioned here before. But it proved to be a bit too intense for the gals, especially Elsa, who was a bit freaked out the whole time, but couldn't quite take her eyes off it. It was like a technicolor car accident. Toward the end, when the little girl character was getting sucked up into a tornado-like thing and Elsa started saying "Oh no! Sally!" and then actually screamed, I finally whisked her away. (But brought her back a little later to show her that everyone was OK.)

They also weren't quite ready for the too-long day trip we took up to the Common Ground Fair -- a country fair put on by the Maine Organic Farmers Association. It was an hour and a half each way and, stupidly, we forgot to bring their ga-gas, a.k.a. pacifiers, which we still let them have on long car trips. (You'd think after this calamity we would have learned our lesson.) They were cranky and exhausted the whole time, wanting to be picked up, wanting to go home, wanting to eat but not particularly excited about the grilled cheese sandwiches we got them, on super-dense, all-natural, gluten-free, organic, grass-fed, free-range, fair trade, cruelty-free, 22-grain bread made by rehabilitated prisoners. (Kidding, of course. But seriously, the bread tasted like shit.)

I think that in another year or two, a trip like this might actually be do-able for them. But while we did have a few nice moments -- Elsa enjoyed getting a ladybug painted on her hand (below); they were fascinated by the giant merino sheep "getting his hair cut"; and thought the old-fashioned farm equipment was pretty fun to play on (below below); overall, I'd say it was a not yet. It was also, I think, a case of something being a not yet because of the twin thing. One kid might have been a bit more manageable. Having twins, I think, can at times prolong the not yets by a few months.

They can be frustrating, the not yets. And they will always be there. But there's a nice hopefulness to the phrase. Can we take the girls on a longish day trip to a big and somewhat overwhelming event like a fair? Not yet, but we will in a year or two. Have I found a publisher for my novel? Not yet, but I still have hope. Have I figured out the right balance of work and parenting and writing, all while managing to keep my depression at bay? Not yet, not yet, not yet, but I will.

Regression, anyone?

Roper — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 18:43:00 GMT

We're back in the saddle, after a lovely vacation week in New Hampshire followed by a weekend's stay in Vermont. Fabulous weather, beautiful scenery, lots to do, and even a bit of relaxing thrown in there. I managed to get several hundred pages of good reading in, which, to me, is the sign of a good vacation. And the girls did remarkably well, all things considered, adapting with aplomb to a slew of new places, people, and situations.

They were, however, a bit clingier than usual, always wanting to be picked up, and acting particularly attached to me. They've also been doing this weird sort of "baby talk" thing where they say "mama" and "dada" and talk in babbly, indistinct voices. Clio has been espeically prone to this. I would say that it was a result of vacation -- the unfamiliar people, the disruption of routine -- but the fact is, it actually started a few weeks earlier.

I suspect that this is also one of those developmental phases that a lot of kids (babies? toddlers? youths?) go through around this age. I wonder if it might also have something to do with the fact that they know they're about to start preschool. In fact, I'm a little nervous about how they're going to handle the transition to that. It's only two mornings a week, but still....eek! I'm thinking it's probably a good thing that Alastair will be the one to drop them off on their first day next week, not me. (This clinginess is decidedly directed more at Mama than Dada.)

The girls are also somewhat obsessed with talking about things they can do when they're bigger or -- interestingly -- when they're littler. For example, if we say to them that they need to walk (as opposed to being carried) because they're big girls, and being carried all the time is only for babies, they may very well say, "But when I'm a little baby I can have a pick-up!"

I suppose the whole concept of chronology -- and the fact that they only grow up, not down -- is a bit confusing to them, and maybe even a bit threatening. Then again, we don't really help matters. Sometimes we refer to them as little girls (as in "this book is for grown-ups, not for little girls") other times as big girls ("you're such a big girl to drink from a cup like that!") and even occasionally refer to them, affectionately, as "baby girl" or the like. Can we blame them for being slightly confused?

And then there's the more comical manifestation of all this chronological confusion: When she's not acting babylike, Clio has lately taken to acting "Mommy-like" to Elsa. She'll try to comfort her or explain things to her or even scold her, all in a pitch-perfect imitation of parental tone. Yesterday as we were driving back home from Vermont and Elsa was whining about the song we were playing (she wanted to hear Old MacDonald -- again), Clio said, "Elsa, Mommy and Daddy and Clio need to listen to this song and then we listen to Old MacDonald, OK?" It's very cute, but I think it's only a matter of time before Elsa gets pissed off and decks her one.

But perhaps not. After all, Elsa is learning new, more productive ways to channel her immense physical energy. While we were at Sandy Island, she was a madwoman on the dance floor. (I really would love to enroll her in a dance class -- she seems to have some real aptitude for it, and clearly loves it.) And one morning, she spotted a stretching/gentle yoga class and insisted that we join in. "I want to do exercise!" she said. (I have no idea where she learned that word!) We got started just as the class was ending, but had our own private yoga session, captured on film by offical Elsa and Clio Paparazza, Heidi Cohen Miller. These are some of my favorite photos ever taken of Elsa and me.

Namaste!

Down the Cape

Roper — Tue, 17 Feb 2009 02:18:00 GMT

It's amazing what a difference a brief change of scenery can make. We accepted a last minute invitation from some friends to join them at their family's cottage on the Cape, and I am so very glad we did. Despite all the packing and schlepping, despite the fact that there aren't a whole lot of toddler-friendly activities on Cape Cod in February, and despite the fact that we did a good deal of just hanging out, eating, refereeing toddler brawls over toys, etc -- in other words, the same kinds of things we could have done at home -- it was awfully nice to be somewhere other than home for a little while. No distractions, no things we knew we really ought to be doing (taxes, anyone?). Instead, just lots of lazy goofing around with our kids and our friends and their kid. Some fresh seafood. Too many valentine chocolates. A fair amount of wine.

I think the girls really appreciated the change of scene, too. New stairs to climb! New stuff to look at! A new room to sleep in! (They were so excited about getting to sleep in their port-a-cribs that they both insisted on going "night night" as soon as we set them up. For all of forty seconds.) Both of them were in good moods most of the time. Clio was silly. Elsa was adventurous. (She kept wanting to go up and down the stairs: "be right back, OK?") They were clearly enjoying themselves.

What'd you do to get those beads, party girl? (And who knew a doorstop could be so much fun?)

Oh sure, they pitched plenty of small fits, too. They were loud. They fought over stuff. They wanted to eat constantly. They made our friends' daughter -- four months younger -- seem like the most mature and serene child on earth by comparison. Other parents of twins out there: do you find that your twins are louder than their singleton friends? I feel like Elsa and Clio are always SHOUTING observations and requests (increasingly, with a big Pleeeeeese? tacked onto the end, at least), more than other kids their age. Alastair and I aren't particularly loud people, and we try very hard not to raise our voices with the girls. My theory is that it's a twin thing -- they feel like in order to be heard over each other and get our attention, they have to yell. They are also both, well, spirited little people, so I guess it's personality in part. But when they're apart, during those rare one-on-one moments we get, it seems they're both much calmer and more patient. I wonder if there's something we could be doing better to bring the decibel level down, or if it's just another case of this too shall pass?

Anyhoo. Here are a few more snaps from our weekend...

Clio didn't like the cold and the wind or the sand, for that matter, so she hung back with Alastair while Elsa and I did some beachcombing. For a couple of minutes we just sat talking quietly together, looking out at the ocean. Elsa seemed very intrigued by it. She also was intent on taking the shells and rocks she found in the sand down to the water's edge and tossing them back in. I guess she figured that's where they belonged.

Back at the house, bedecked in Valentine's Day bling, the girls test the toddler capacity of my friend Megan's lap. And play with one of the few Fisher Price toys we own that -- so far -- doesn't seem to be either haunted or annoying.

Family portrait at the fish pier. We were hoping to see a seal, and did, very briefly. We also walked up onto a deck where there were nice views of the fishing boats and the water. Clio kept running along the railing, poking her head out between the balusters and saying, "Peekaboo Ocean!"

Elsa wanted so badly to help fly the kite, but had to content herself with running around excitedly beneath it and trying to catch its tail when it swooped low enough. Next year, maybe, she'll be ready to hold on to the string.

Nested

Roper — Thu, 15 Jan 2009 13:00:00 GMT

Lately, I've been seriously craving a vacation somewhere warm. This isn't that shocking, I guess, given that it's about 10 degrees outside, there's snow on the ground, and we've still got two and a half months of winter to go. A few days ago, on a lark -- or perhaps just to torture myself -- I priced out how much it would cost, with airfare, for our whole family to go for a few days to one of those "Beaches" resorts in the Caribbean -- the kind where childcare is offered during the day. Um. Yeah. That's not happening any time soon. I can't quite believe that ANY family has a spare seven to ten grand to plunk down for a few days in the sun. But such families apparently exist. If you are one of them, I hate you. Just kidding.

Of course, when I really thought about what going on such a trip would entail -- namely, dealing with two 2-year-olds (un potty-trained, mind you) in airports, on planes, in wet and sandy bathing suits, requiring paid babysitters at night, etc. I realized that what I would really like is to be teleported instantly to a tropical resort -- all four of us and all our crap, plus a fabulous nanny who'll work for room and board only -- and I want someone else to pay for it. Perhaps the federal government? In short, I don't want to do any of the work of actually planning and orchestrating a trip. I just want to be somewhere else for a little while, and have it be perfectly easy. A vacation from reality, you might say.

Five, ten years ago, my need to escape would have manifest itself in an entirely different way. You'd find me haunting the Lonely Planet web site, browsing travel guides in bookstores, researching airfares, making theoretical packing lists. About once a year, I used to get an all-out case of wanderlust. Much of the time, I acted on it. Between the ages of 18 and 32, I managed to get to Jamaica, Ireland, Cameroon, France, Guatemala, England, Italy, Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, Mexico, Italy again (honeymoon), the Dominican Republic, France again, the Netherlands, and Scotland, in that order. Not to mention countless parts of the United States. Some of the trips were of the shorter, more touristy variety, while Cameroon was a whole semester abroad, and the trips to Guatemala and South America were solo adventures -- me, a backpack, and my Spanish verb conjugations, trying to get by on a few dollars a day.

I got what I can only describe as a high off of travel. And not just from the destination itself, but from all of it: the planning, the research, the airports, the uncertainty. I thought that I always would. But I can honestly say that right now I have little to no desire to jet off to Iceland or explore eastern Europe or volunteer in the Himalayas -- all things I've wanted to do in the past. I guess it's in part because none of these things would be logistically and financially possible for me now, given that we've got two little ones at home. But the fact is, I just don't have the wanderlust I used to. I like being home with my family. I like our routine. I don't feel that old urge to adventure and explore; to be the "other" in an unfamiliar place.

People always say that when you have kids your priorities change. I always believed that this would be the case for me, too. What I didn't anticipate, though, is that I wouldn't be particularly unhappy about it. I'm glad I made travel a priority when I was younger, but I certainly don't mourn that time in my life. I don't ever look at myself now and say, "Who is this person, with her job and her mortgage and her husband and children, who hasn't put a stamp in her passport for three years?? It's so terribly sad and pathetic!" I am perfectly content with where I am and what I'm doing. Yet, if my 22-year-old self saw me now, I'm sure she'd be shocked. Not at the fact of having a family, etc. -- I always knew I wanted that eventually -- but at the fact that I wasn't also tormented by a need to travel.

I like to think that someday my wanderlust will return. I look forward to taking Elsa and Clio on trips when they're older, and I hope we'll have the wherewithall to do it. I have hopes of doing some (much shorter-term) solo travel again, and certainly there are lots of places I'd love to go with Alastair. But all of it feels quite abstract and far off in the future. For now, I'm homebound -- and surprisingly content that way.

Leaving Scotland, in 2006. I think I sensed that it would be my last time abroad for a while. A month and a half later, I would be pregnant.

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

Slumber party

Roper — Mon, 24 Mar 2008 01:51:00 GMT

This weekend, my mom and the gals and I went down to my aunt's house in my old hometown in Connecticut for my cousin's wedding shower. I hadn't originally planned on bringing Elsa and Clio along (The packing! Oh, the packing!) but I'm very glad that I did. They got some QT with their great aunts and first cousins once-removed and various others. They danced to Donna Summer's greatest hits. They ate Mexican corn and bean salad with cilantro. (Anyone know what Mexican corn and bean salad with cilantro looks like when it comes out the other end of a baby? Did you say Mexican corn and bean salad with cilantro? You win!!) The only disappointment was that they didn't get to meet / be met by their great, great aunt for the first time. She was supposed to come up from Philly for the occasion, but she couldn't find her teeth. Ah, well.

For me, one of the nicest parts of the weekend was having the chance to sleep in the same room with the girls -- something I haven't done in a long time. I was worried that we'd wake each other up -- I'd stub my toe in the dark on my way in or they'd cry or I'd snore or all of the above -- but except for a brief bit of crying from Elsa when I first snuck into bed, we all slept soundly through the night. In fact, it was nice to be able to just go over and rub Elsa's back in her crib and shush her and tell her I was right there. It brought me back to those early months when they slept in a co-sleeper crib next to our bed, the two of them, side by side, all wrapped up like little burritos, sweet as can be.

However, allow me clarify: it brought me back to the sweetness of having two babies sleeping nearby. But it did NOT make me miss having newborns. It did not make me miss not having my evenings to myself or waking up every two, three, or four hours in the middle of the night to nurse. Lots of people we know who had their first baby around the same time we had ours are now thinking about or already having their second, and when I think about them, I thank my lucky stars that we got our two kids in one fell swoop. This is not to say that I never ever entertain the possibility of having a third child. But after I entertain it, I send it home: Buh-bye. Drive safely.

Everyone says that you get a sort of amnesia when it comes to babies -- you forget the discomfort of pregnancy, the pain of birth, the exhaustion and difficulty of the first few months. Hence the survival of the human species despite of the availability of birth control. But I think having twins delays the onset of that amnesia, because right now, the thought of having another baby is absolutely exhausting. Maybe I'll feel differently in a few years. But for the moment, this is absolutely perfect -- and plenty.

Am I gloating? Yeah, OK, maybe a little.

Winter Getaway

Roper — Thu, 06 Mar 2008 02:00:00 GMT

We spent last weekend at our friend Heidi's family's beautiful house in the Berkshires. We had a great time, although I must admit that packing for the trip was a royal pain in the ass. I've decided that this age, between one and two years old, is probably the most gear-heavy time in a child's life. Add the twin factor, and it's one hell of a job to get out the door.

-- 2 Pack-n-Plays (because they're too little for beds but too big to sleep in the bed or share one crib) Don't forget the crib sheets (+ extras in case of disaster)

-- 2 portable feeding chairs (because they're too little to sit at the table but too active and messy to be fed in our laps.)

-- A few familiar toys and books (because tupperware and keys don't quite cut it as the only playthings anymore.)

-- More than enough clothes (because they are incredibly messy eaters, and still have the occasional diaper blow-out.)

-- Safety devices / gates as needed (because at this age the babies are ambulatory but have no sense of self-preservation.)

-- Backpack carriers or stroller (because although they can walk, they can't actually *get* anywhere.)

-- All the usual other stuff: diapers, wipes, cups, feeding spoons, washcloths, towels, bibs, snacks, etc.

-- If you happen to think of it, your own clothes and toiletries

This is why most of the time, when people say "you guys should come out and visit with the girls sometime!" I smile and nod politely. But who can turn down a weekend with good friends in the beautiful Berkshires? All the stress of packing melts away once you're sitting by a fire with a glass of wine in hand, looking out at a snow-covered lake. Or watching the "I'm F****ing Ben Affleck" video in your PJs with your pals:

Here's our friend Megan with Clio, her own daughter, Marlie, and Elsa (looking much larger and more menacing than she actually is, on account of the angle). Megan's an awesome mom friend to have, because she's all about the "It Takes a Village" approach to hanging out with other folks' babies -- pitching in, picking up, keeping an eye out, lending and borrowing things without a second thought. She's village-rific.

Because the house was full of steps and staircases, and because we didn't want to spend the entire time chasing after our hellbent-on-destruction progeny, we borrowed a play-yard from another MOT for child containment purposes. Elsa and Clio both thought it was really fun to hang out in one little corner. (What does this make them? Claustrophiles?)

On Saturday afternoon, we suited up and headed out for a walk in the snow. As you know, I'm not a proponent of dressing twins alike. But I got these snowsuits on clearance and they only had one color left. And even I must admit, the girls look damned cute in them -- like a pair of little pink ewoks. (And the matching shoes were a gift! Don't shoot!)

We all walked out onto the frozen lake, through squalling snow:

Then we came back, fed the young'uns dinner, ate cheese and crackers, and did a lot of goofy playing and cuddling on the lovely hardwood floors.

It was well worth all the packing.

(Special thanks to our hostess with the mostest and photographer extraordinaire, Heidi Cohen, and her charming new beau.)

Mama steps out

Roper — Thu, 31 Jan 2008 02:28:00 GMT

Well, this is it: for the first time since my girls were born 13 months ago, I am about to spend the night (and the next three) away. More specifically -- if you must know -- I'm in Tijuana, at a place that rents rooms by the hour. I've got a bottle of tequila and a new friend who says his name is "Juan Smith." We're about to get in his Yugo and drive ten miles from here to do peyote and play strip poker in a double-wide with some Serbian mobster friends of his sister-in-law, so I have to be brief.

Tomorrow morning -- after the peyote has worn off -- I'll go into New York for the AWP conference. I have no real practical reason; it's primarily just for fun, to see various writing friends, and maybe to soak up a little creative inspiration. Some excellent writers will be reading and talking about craft. There will be parties with free drinks, and little bottles of shampoo and body lotion in the hotel room. And for the first time in over a year, I'll be able to sleep late.

I thought that by now, Elsa and Clio would be fully weaned, but they're not. Until two days ago, I was still nursing them first thing in the morning and before bed. On Monday night I didn't nurse them in the evening, but last night they were both grabbing at my shirt, trying to get at the goods, so what's a girl to do? I gave in. And I did end up bringing my pump down here to...er...Tijuana. My plan is to pump in the mornings, so that at least when I get back home, if the gals haven't totally adjusted to life without the boob, I can go back to nursing them once or twice a day. Who would have thought it would be so hard to give this up? I honestly think they're ready, for the most part (last night's booby-grabbing was an aberration). It's me who isn't.

It was tough to say good-bye. Absolutely. And at the same time, I must admit: as I was packing and making plans, I couldn't help feeling a little giddy. Strange -- it's not like it's some huge adventure to spend four days in New York. I grew up an hour outside the city. And before kids, I frequently traveled to far more exotic places, for much longer stretches of time.

But today I found myself getting that old Lonely Planet thrill as I chose what clothes to pack and plotted subway routes, programmed friends' numbers into my cell and tucked a few emergency Luna bars into my suitcase. Driving down to my in-laws' this afternoon (OK, fine; I'm not in Tijuana) it was surprisingly liberating to have it be just me and a stack of CDs in the car. No crying or whining. No acrobatic maneuvers to retrieve lost bottles and pacifiers. And when I arrived, I just got out of the car and went inside and had a glass of wine. No babies to carry. No changing, no feeding, no lugging bags and bags of gear. It was just self-sufficient, self-contained little me again: one suitcase, one purse, one laptop. (And, yeah, one extra bag with the breast pump.) It was a little like reuniting with an old friend: Jane before she was Mama Jane. I remember her! That girls was all right.

And still, at the restaurant we went to for dinner tonight, I was magnetically drawn to the one baby in the place. I came back to the house and started looking at pictures of the girls. I called A. and told him to kiss them -- and himself, barely back from the UK -- for me, repeatedly.

On the balance, though: I'm damned glad to be doing this. I think it will be good for me -- to spend a few days focused purely on me me me. I am determined not to feel guilty about enjoying it. Though it seems like something of a paradox, I do think it is possible to relish the time fully and still miss my family dearly.

In the meantime, the peyote and the strip poker are calling. (My in-laws are crazy like that.) So, Buenas noches, mis amigos. See you in a few.

Necessity is the mother of rationalization

Roper — Mon, 22 Oct 2007 00:50:00 GMT

Today, for the first time in recent memory, I went to a McDonald's. Well, I didn't go, exactly. I used the drive-up window. I was leaving my parents' house and didn't have time to grab anything before I left, because my goal was to leave as soon as possible after the girls ate lunch so we could make it home before they got hungry again or needed a diaper change. There was a McDonald's with a drive-through window in town, right near the highway entrance, and since I couldn't easily get out of the car to get, say, an organic, vegetarian sandwich from a locally-owned business, I did the arches. A grilled chicken sandwich and -- because they're just so damned good, and if you're going to sin, sin gloriously -- an order of fries. No beverage. (See previous post).

I am generally not cool with fast food, environmentally or nutritionally speaking. I think it sucks that for a lot of Americans, fast food is the most affordable, most convenient choice. Since reading and teaching Fast Food Nation while I was in grad school, I avoid McDonald's and the like almost completely. But today, I found myself reasoning: "Hey, I'm alone with twin babies and I'm hungry and tired. This is the only place where I can get food without getting out of the car. It's OK to cut myself some slack, just this once."

And it is, I guess. But it did make me think anew about how tricky it is to draw those lines -- the common good vs. convenience and sanity -- where babies are concerned. It's easy to talk yourself out of doing the more environmentally/socially responsible but difficult thing when you've got a kid or kids to think about.

Cloth diapers, for example. We could have done cloth diapers. It wouldn't have killed us. It would have been an up-front investment, and perhaps a little bit inconvenient at times. But we cried "twins!" and used it as our excuse to go the disposable route. So, we're lazy and irresponsible, right? (That is, if you belive cloth is better than paper.)

On the other hand, we DO use the more-expensive Seventh Generation disposables, and we make most of our own baby food to avoid all that packaging and processing. And our babies wear almost all second-hand clothes. So, we're good, right?

But on the third hand, I've started driving to work instead of taking the T since the babies were born, we keep the house warmer for their sake, and we do about twice as much laundry and dishes as we used to. So, we're....hypocritical? Hopeless? Human?

I'm going to go with human. And, as such, perpetually inconsistent, conflicted, and not quite good enough. But trying as best we can.

One more rationalization, though? Not really an environmental one, but a caloric one: I bet the high sodium content of the fries was a good way to keep me retaining water and, thus, not having to stop and pee on the way home. (See previous post.) So I pretty much HAD to get them. Come to think of it, I probably should have gotten one of those deep-fried apple pies, too...

Of mosh pits and pit stops

Roper — Fri, 19 Oct 2007 20:08:00 GMT

Not to be outdone by her older sister, Clio has started dancing to music, too, with her own unique Clio style. She's not so concerned with staying on the beat. For her, it's more about letting go, man. Really feeling it. And note the rad 180 she does in the middle of the dance. (That's my mom dancing along in the background. She's got her own style, too.)

We're up in Maine, now, staying at my parents' house for the weekend. This was the first time I've attempted a road trip of any length alone with the girls. (My mom, who'd been staying and dancing with us for a few days, had to come up a day before me.) I was careful not to drink too much water before I left, and though I would have liked a cup of coffee for the road, it was just too risky. I didn't bring a stroller, which meant that there was pretty much no way I could have stopped to go to the bathroom. Fortunately, I didn't have to, but I tried to imagine what I would do if things got really, really desperate. I decided that I could:

1.) Pull up close to a gas station with a convenience store, look inside to see if there was a sane-looking woman working there and, if there was, run in and beg her to go out and keep an eye on the girls while I peed. (No offense, guys, but it just wouldn't be cool to ask some random man to watch my children. Probably not so cool to ask a random woman either, but if I had no other choice....)

2.) Pull over to the side of the road somewhere semi-secluded but not too secluded and go behind a bush while still able to see the car, but somehow still hidden from other motorists. It would be hard to find the ideal terrain scenario for this.

3.) Go to a Dunkin Donuts, where there's a high probability of seeing a police officer (in New England, the cops at donut shops thing isn't just a stereotype -- or a mere line from a Bangles song, for that matter -- it's for real, I swear), and ask him or her to keep an eye on the babies while I went inside.

4.) Put one baby in the baby backpack, which I did have in the car, and carry the other one, and go into a rest stop. But this would present the problem of what to do with the baby I'm carrying while in the restroom. Put her on the floor? Ick. But again. Extreme bladder emergencies require extreme measures.

5.) Figure out how to get online with my cell phone, which I believe is theoretically possible, and put a post on my blog asking my beloved readers what they would do, because I'm sure they'd come through with some killer ideas....