Saturday we met Angel, Marty and Zoey at Kenwood Towne Centre to visit Santa. Mom gave my hair a quick brush before I sat on Santa’s lap.
Don’t they remember what happened last year?
Zoey, on the other hand, wasn’t scared at all!
Next year I won’t cry. Promise.
(For a theme, click here.)
“You better watch out
You better not cry
Better not pout
I’m telling you why
Santa Claus is coming to town.” —Haven Gillespie
Andy and I did something we won’t be able to do this summer and for many months following this summer. We decided, on a Thursday, to go see “Chicago” at the Aronoff Center Friday. Paw Paw was able to babysit. After we went to Nicholson’s Tavern & Pub for a beer (for Andy), a Sprite (for me) and pub crisps.
I believe date nights vital to a healthy marriage. I remember my parents taking them when they could when I was growing up—I’m sure they enjoyed the evening out as much as we enjoyed the novelty of a babysitter. But I also remember the difficulty of date night when Sophie was young—especially as a breastfeeding mom. In the beginning, I remember not wanting to go out. Honestly, I think I was too tired. And then, perhaps six months into it, I vividly remember a couple date nights that quickly became too painful as I was without baby and without pump.
Mothers of twins have told me to not expect to leave the house for any real length of time the first few months upon the babies’ arrival. And even after that, I imagine the logistics to be more difficult—that is, until they’re older.
So I hope for many more of these spur-of-the-moment (or planned) date nights in my near future. And I’m trying to embrace them, acknowledge them for what they are—hold them dear. Before I had Sophie, I took many things for granted. And while I’ll always choose more nights at home snuggled on the couch with my entire family, I’ll also never give up my love for a night out with a man I’ve known and loved longer than anyone else in my now-immediate family.
“A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person.” —Mignon McLaughlin
To celebrate my mom’s recent retirement, the staff at Creekside Elementary threw her a dinner party at Brazenhead Irish Pub in Mason, OH.
And then our family held an open house for her Thanksgiving weekend.
Congrats, Mom!
“A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stop.” —Henry Adams
The day after Thanksgiving we went to Jimmy John’s for dinner. Sophie stared out the window for a (strangely) long time. Tom stared with her.
Then, we went to the Christmas Ranch in Morrow, OH. It was very cold. Sophie fell asleep in the car ride over and I can’t even imagine what her little brain was thinking when she awoke to all …
this.
She didn’t sit on Santa’s lap, but we met him.
Katy and Tom, enjoying hot cocoa.
sisters
Dad and Mom
Sophie, braving the cold and lights to walk on her own once she discovered there were rocks on the path—yes, the rocks proved more interesting than all the lights surrounding her.
“The outdoor Christmas lights, green and red and gold and blue and twinkling, remind me that most people are that way all year round—kind, generous, friendly and with an occasional moment of ecstasy. But Christmas is the only time they dare reveal themselves.” —Harlan Miller
Christina and Kyle
Katy and Tom
Andy, Sophie and me—Sophie only lasted a few more minutes. Apparently the laughter got to be too much so she spent much of dinner with me in the living room.
Dad and Mom
I believe my mom pulled these Lincoln Logs out for Sophie—but Tom and Andy spent much of the day building ridiculously tall and complex structures (which Sophie dutifully destroyed).
Catch!
Sophie saw Andy watching football (aka sleeping) and, after requesting her blanket, put her head next to his and said, “night night.”
It’s so rare now for all the kids and our parents to be together on the same day, in the same house. So for that, and the delicious food, I was and am thankful.
“There is one day that is ours. There is one day when all we Americans who are not self-made go back to the old home to eat saleratus biscuits and marvel how much nearer to the porch the old pump looks than it used to. Thanksgiving Day is the one day that is purely American.” —O. Henry
We’ve had no showings since re-listing our house. I’m sensing my optimism dissolve as I find myself spending less time online, looking at houses, and more time walking around, taking stock of the space we already have—there’s not much of it.
Sophie arrived three weeks early. We were unprepared. Her cradle was delivered while she was being delivered. My bag wasn’t packed. I hadn’t finished ironing her onesies. (Yes, I was clueless. I thought ironing onesies was something people did.) My family threw me a lovely baby shower hours before my water broke—presents and gift cards and tissue paper littered my living room floor. Our kitchen wasn’t clean. My to-do list wasn’t complete. Our homecoming was sweet, but not what I had envisioned—not what I had wanted. I know my unbalanced hormones made it seem worse than what it was. But I also know me. And how much my environment affects me. And I wish it had been different.
So this time, I’m nesting early. And today, 10 weeks three days into my pregnancy, I’ve begun planning. I’ve decided I can’t expect to move. Instead, I think the safest thing to do is expect to be here. I have this dream that my to-do list will be complete. That when we leave for the hospital, no matter the date, the house will be spotless. Every shelf will look like a spread from Real Simple. I’ll wear my label maker out. A month’s worth of homemade casseroles will be in the freezer. Fresh flowers will be in every room. Cribs will be set up. Swings will be set out. How-to-raise-newborn-twins-and-a-toddler books will be on every end table. And Tucker will miraculously stop shedding.
I know. I must lower my expectations. A wee bit.
So I’m taking baby steps. And I believe the first step to a more organized home—especially a small home—is less stuff. However, that’s already proving difficult. We’ve been amazed with friends’ and friends of friends’ and friends of friends of friends’ generosity. Seven books on twin pregnancies and raising twins were lent to me and are on my bedside table. Two beautiful white cribs, with mattresses and bedding, are in our basement. I’ve been promised exersaucers and swings, and as I type this I’m wearing a girlfriend’s maternity shirt on loan. We’re already accumulating stuff. Necessary stuff, yes, but stuff nonetheless. And we still have Christmas coming up—with a toddler—who likes toys.
So, getting rid of stuff we don’t need or use or want or like is imperative, especially as we accumulate more. But then there’s Sophie’s stuff. Already, at 20 months, she’s collecting her own things. Aside from some U.S. Savings bonds and two nickels she got from Harold down the street on Halloween, she has no money. So she’s not buying stuff. But still, she finds stuff. Like the rocks, pictured above. Or the acorn tops and bottoms sitting on the end table next to me. Or the plastic key chain a store clerk gave to her in an attempt to calm one of her many store tantrums. Or the things she finds under our couch that I never even knew we had.
I don’t consider this house my house or Andy’s house or our house, in terms of the two of us. Rather it’s our family’s house, Sophie included. I know I can’t keep—and she can’t keep—every rock she finds or acorn she picks up or useless plastic item someone gives her. Just like I have to stop keeping every piece of paper she scribbles on. But still, she’s a person. Just a short one and young one and not a very eloquent one—yet. So part of me thinks, Who am I to get rid of this rock she, three days ago, treasured? It’s her rock. She found it. And, three days ago, she loved it.
So, I compromise. I cut up some of her paintings and make cards out of them when sending notes to people. I let her keep one rock, on her bookcase, and then we make an event of putting the other rocks back outside. Tucker often helps. He likes eating the acorns when no one’s watching.
And so, together, we continue to accumulate, get rid of, label and make room. I know, from past experience, that water can break at any time. Bed rest can happen. Babies can come early. They can come late. And in the meantime toys still need to and will be strewn across the floor. Dinner parties will result in a sink full of dirty dishes. Sometimes a TV will remain dusty for days. And Sophie will surely find more rocks. I can’t expect a perfect homecoming just like I can’t expect to be in a bigger house. But then again, I can’t believe I just typed that. Because, in the big scheme of things, what’s more perfect than bringing home a new baby—or two new babies? Not much. Well, except if you add the fresh flowers and frozen casseroles and checked-off to-do list and the dog who suddenly stops shedding and and and …
“When you aim for perfection, you discover it’s a moving target.” —George Fisher
If Sophie could read and understand this list, she may not agree with all of it. But she wears her heart on her sleeve. I know when she’s experiencing joy—bliss, even—just as I know when she’s feeling quite the opposite.
Today, while celebrating Thanksgiving with my family, we each said what we’re thankful for. Sophie drank her milk, and listened, but if I had to guess, this is what I think she’d say.
I’m thankful for:
• milk.
• walks on acorn, rock and leaf-littered sidewalks.
• books, especially Big Red Barn, Counting Little Geckos, Corduroy and Pat the Bunny.
• Tucker, especially when he rolls and runs and jumps and eats the food I don’t like.
• the moon and stars, both in my bedroom and outside.
• airplanes, especially when I can hear and see them.
• music, a hardwood floor to dance on and my giraffe, puppy, Ming Ming and wand to dance with.
• anytime I’m allowed to walk on my own and am not confined to a stroller, cart or carseat.
• Nini, Pop Pop, Gramma, Paw Paw, Aunt Liz, Aunt Katy, Uncle Tom, Uncle Kyle and Aunt Christina (and the fact that I get to see them all this weekend).
• my great grandmas, who are always so excited to see me.
• my toothpaste and that I’m allowed to brush my teeth five times a day, even though Mom and Dad know I’m just sucking all the toothpaste off and not really brushing like I should.
• the park.
• the cozy coupe at the YMCA.
• trees.
• Monster’s Inc. (except the first scene—it’s too scary).
• being able to finally talk a language people understand, even though I sometimes mix things up and say things like “hold you” instead of “hold me,” “up” when I mean “down,” and “I love you too” even when I’m saying it first.
• wallets to go through, floss to pull out and lipstick to put on when no one is looking.
• AngelMartyZoeyDroopy (said just like that).
• bracelets.
• grown-up shoes.
• the Thanksgiving dress Great Aunt Susie made me.
• Mia, for not biting me.
• Dada and Mama, for loving me.
“We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.” —Thornton Wilder
This year OSU Thanksgiving was close to home—Andy and John (as well as everyone else who helped) cooked up a fantastic dinner at Riverside Lodge at Lake Isabella Park. Sophie spent a lot of time playing with Danielle and Christi.
As always, peeling potatoes is a chore when dinner is for 30+ people!
Sophie wore her OSU jersey for the occasion (Jen and Mark, it still fits!) and showed off her Go Buckeyes board book to everyone.
Waving a blanket with Ashley is always fun.
Then, Sophie realized there was an entire park to explore outside. As such, I spent most of my time outside. We walked.
We admired bare trees.
We gave Dad a kiss when he took a quick break to come and find us.
We explored a cobweb-filled wildlife viewing structure.
We played with fallen leaves.
We watched the two-hand-touch football game.
We waved to ducks.
And then, thankful and exhausted, I held a very-heavy Sophie for a rather long nap.
Food!
Yum.
After dinner, Jason started a fire in the huge stone fireplace.
A sea of red.
Thanks for another great Thanksgiving, Andy and John!
For each new morning with its light,
For rest and shelter of the night,
For health and food, for love and friends,
For everything Thy goodness sends. —Ralph Waldo Emerson
Sophie and I recently went to Autumn’s 8th birthday party. Sophie was intrigued by “Duck Duck Goose” but clutched my leg instead of participating in the age-old game I insisted was much fun.
While I watched Autumn excitedly open her presents …
Sophie took advantage of the unused dance floor and danced all alone. She loved it.
Great Aunt Tammy and Sophie spent a lot of time playing catch …
and Sophie loved watching the pinata fun (although she didn’t want to swing the bat, either).
Happy birthday, Autumn! Thanks for letting us celebrate with you!
“It takes a long time to grow young.” —Pablo Picasso
What? That’s not how you’re supposed to use a spoon?
“If you don’t like someone, the way he holds his spoon will make you furious; if you do like him, he can turn his plate over in your lap and you won’t mind.” —Irving Becker
