Catch Up

March 15, 2012

I feel like it was just yesterday when we were tromping around a hilly field, looking for the perfect Christmas tree. And just like that, on Monday we dragged what was left of it in our backyard to the curb (I know, I know, it’s March and we should have recycled it with the rest of our neighbors in January and yes I did feel ridiculous dragging a totally brown Christmas tree out to the curb in 70° weather).

Some days I feel so behind, on everything.

So here’s a post of the many things I had hoped to write about this winter, and didn’t.

We went with Nini and Pop Pop to see a most amazing model train exhibit, in the basement of one of my dad’s co-workers. That marked the beginning of Owen’s current obsession with trains (or choo-choos, as he calls them).

Annual holiday dinner party at Ferrari’s with friends. I was too busy keeping two toddlers well-behaved in a nice restaurant to take good pictures, but I do have this one, of Sophie playing peek-a-boo with Mya.

Play date/Christmas cookie decorating with Angel, Zoey, Mya, Christine, Connor, Jenna and Hannah.

Zoey and Sophie always exchange Christmas presents. Early fall Sophie asked Nini if they could make a blanket for Zoey, together. So they did. We went to a fabric store and Sophie spent a long time contemplating different designs before choosing this one. She then spent a day with Nini, pinning and cutting and tying (and trying it out, of course). Zoey and Sophie exchanged gifts before decorating cookies together. Sophie was so excited. (Thank you, Nini.)

Tis this season for surprise packages in the mail. Through this blog I have connected with Andy’s Aunt Cheryl and Uncle John in Texas. And although we’ve never met in person, I’ve loved conversing with them (thank you, technology). They’ve shared old photos and memories with me, and over the holidays sent me some lovely tea cups for my collection, as well as Texas-themed ornaments and little stockings filled with candy for the children (which was met with much glee).

James and Owen fell in love with Little Bear on TV (they’re watching it in this picture). “A Kiss for Little Bear” is one of my favorite children’s books and I’ve long loved the series—the show is quite beautifully done, with lovely drawings, classical music and sigh-worthy story lines. If they’re going to fall in love with a TV show, I’m happy it’s this one.

We had to keep all of our chairs up on the table so the boys wouldn’t climb on them and fall. This was a huge pain. Also, Sophie danced. A lot.

The boys realized a dream of theirs—sitting on top of a refrigerator.

The boys also learned how to climb out of their highchairs, even with straps, so we gave up highchairs, with great trepidation. It was so wonderful. So great. They embraced the chairs (even though they often eat standing up on them) and because they are now allowed on chairs, they no longer care about climbing up on chairs—and the table—and the chandelier, and so we were finally able to put (and keep) all the chairs back on the floor, where they belong. I realize this sounds like nothing but oh did it irritate me, putting those chairs up on the table and taking them back down every time we ate.

We celebrated birthdays.

My cousin Kelsey cuddled with Sophie (and Owen learned how to say “Kelsey” perfectly).

Sophie tried on my riding boots.

James spent many a days wearing Andy’s winter hat.

We spent a most wonderful, snowy weekend in Michigan, visiting our good friends Matt and Christi, and their son, Quinn. We ate out, ate in, went to a children’s museum, stayed up late talking, cared for the kids together and played with the kids together. Christi and I escaped for an evening, to a movie and La Dolce Vita in Ann Arbor for dessert. Andy wore his OSU sweatshirt everywhere.

Sophie played with her baby doll.

We all got colds. Caring for the children while sick wasn’t easy, but their cuddles helped quite a bit.

Sophie wore her beautiful poncho, which my cousin Emily made.

I found the exact kitchen island I’ve long wanted on Craigslist, for half the price. Part birthday/part purchased with freelance money, it’s now become a favorite snacking spot for the kids.

Our house smelled like spring much of late February (thank you, Angel).

Sophie fell in love with Nini’s iPad.

The Lapthorn family visited—and brought pizza. Sam and Sophie are close in age, as are their twins—Charlie and Nathan—to our boys. Needless to say, we always have much to talk about when together.

There was a lot of this.

And now we’re airing out the house (thank God) with windows open in March. And soon it will be spring. And summer. More time to get ahead. And fall behind. And so it goes. So it goes.

“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: It is the time for home.” —Edith Sitwell

It’s Never the Gift You Think

February 2, 2012

Sophie asked Santa for a scooter. We thought that would be her favorite. I bought her her first doll—the kind that has hair you can brush, and eyes that can open and close. We thought that would be her favorite. She got a princess dress from her grandma, a handmade doll from Nini, Candy Land (which we play daily) from her great grandma. We thought these would be her favorites.

We were wrong. It’s always the last-minute, throw-in-the cart gift that wins out. The less than $20 one. (Sometimes, even the “free” one, when it comes to boxes and tissue paper and items found in kitchen cabinets.)

She loves her princess castle. (Discovery Kids; Bed, Bath & Beyond; less than $20 w/ coupon.) All the kids do. They knock it over and it becomes a cave. They hide in it, have snacks in it and play peek-a-boo with each other through the windows. They knock it over and pop it up. Sophie reads in it, colors in it and yes, sometimes, she even uses it as it was designed to be used—as a castle, for a princess.

It’s big. And clashes with everything in our dining room. And yet, I smile every time I see it, have to move it or put it back together after particularly rough play. It’s always the simple thing, the least expected. And even though I gave a lot of thought to her other presents, and did a ton of research, the fact that it is always the simple one makes me happy, too.

“Pleasure is spread through the earth
In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.” —William Wordsworth

More Christmas

January 26, 2012

We also celebrated Christmas with my mom’s side of the family and my dad’s side of the family. I was so busy chasing the kids around and talking to family I hardly took pictures!

Mangan family Christmas

Gebhart family Christmas

It’s all I’ve got. But I cherished both days—some family members I see hardly ever any more, including my cousin Ben who is teaching in Alaska and my cousin Brett and his family, who live near Cleveland. So I’m thankful we still get together, thankful we have each other in our lives, and thankful my children are able to know the people who have surrounded me my entire life.

“Christmas is a time when you get homesick—even when you’re home.” —Carol Nelson

Christmas At My Parents’ House

January 26, 2012

balled-and-burlap Christmas tree

handmade gift wrap + tags

glass snowflakes and reindeer hanging from chandelier

gifts!

playing with gifts

Mom, Dad, Katy and Tom

My mom made one of these dolls for each of the children. I love them, the kids love them, anyone who comes to our house loves them.

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for making Christmas magical, as always.

“Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.” —Norman Vincent Peale

Festival of Lights

January 26, 2012

While Andy’s family was in town we went to Cincinnati Zoo’s Festival of Lights. It was cold, so cold that Andy and Jill—who had forgotten hats—bought new (matching!) ones at the gift shop. James, who refused to wear a hat all summer, is obsessed with this hat now, and wears it on a daily basis.

My camera’s battery died after I took the first picture, so I was unable to take more. Jill snapped this one on her iPhone. I have many fond memories of the Festival of Lights as a child. As a teenager, I’d often go with a group of friends. One such group, when I was in high school, included Andy and his girlfriend at the time—how things change.

At some point, Owen kicked off one of his shoes. Shoes are like gold in our house. They’re expensive and, as such, the boys have one pair each. We retraced our steps. Stopped at lost and found. Left our home phone number with guest services. Nothing. So Owen had a half-frozen foot that night and a new pair of shoes the next day.

Lost shoe aside, it was a nice evening and I’m so glad the kids were able to spend it with “Grandma and Paw Paw in Baltimore,” as they always call Marty and Jill.

“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

Christmas Evening 2011

January 18, 2012

Christmas evening my parents and brother joined us for a delicious meal, which my in-laws cooked for everyone. It was our last evening to see Kyle, so I was grateful for the time together.

Sophie “reading” to Kyle

Kyle brought our children gifts, including a “band in a box” for Sophie. I told him I would remember that when he has kids. (To be fair, though, the kids loved it and, in fact, put on a performance this evening.)

“I am here to live out loud.” —Emile Zola

Christmas Morning 2011

January 16, 2012

“One of the most glorious messes in the world is the mess created in the living room on Christmas day. Don’t clean it up too quickly.” —Andy Rooney

A Visiting Santa First

January 15, 2012

We tried to visit Santa earlier in December, but the wait was too long. So we left.We didn’t get back to Santa until December 23—when the wait was three hours. Thankfully we were able to give Santa’s elves our cell phone number. So we spent three hours lunching at Dewey’s, visiting Joseph-Beth Booksellers and shopping at Trader Joe’s. The elves texted us when they were ready for us (times have changed).

Sophie had a lot of questions about Santa this year. She wanted to know how he stayed awake all night. (“Doesn’t he get tired?”) And where he went for a new coat when his got old. And where did he use the bathroom? (I told her I’m sure people didn’t mind if he used theirs—that we wouldn’t mind if he used ours.) One afternoon I found her in our fireplace, banging on its walls and ceiling. Our fireplace is a non-venting gas one, so there’s no opening to the chimney. She was quite upset by this. “Magic,” I said. The response satisfied her.

She was so excited to meet Santa this year. And this worried me. The first two years she cried when we sat her on his lap. Last year, she so wanted to tell him she wanted a butterfly net. And she did, but only barely, while clinging to me.

It reminded me of the summer, when all she wanted to do was go down the orange, curvy tunnel slide at the park. The entire walk there she would say how brave she was going to be, that this was the day she was going to do it. And for many weeks, she didn’t go through with it, even though she tried. She sat at the top of that slide, scooted around on her bottom and walked, defeated, the other direction. And the entire walk home she talked about how next time, she was going to do it. It broke my heart, but I knew it was something she had to do on her time, when she was ready. And, eventually, she did.

But the slide is available always. Santa, only once a year. My mom suggested a picture. We had Sophie draw a picture for Santa and on it we wrote him a note: “Dear Santa, I want a scooter. Love, Sophie.” It was a brilliant idea. If she freaked and cried or couldn’t speak, he’d have the note. She would know that he knew she wanted a scooter.

I watched her in line, head titled down, mouth set. I knew she was nervous. But I also knew she was trying—so hard—to be brave. It’s been a long time since I’ve had butterflies in my stomach but I had them all the time when I was kid. I imagined her, having them. Standing there, waiting, waiting, waiting.

We happened to be there during a snow time. It actually snowed, inside the mall. There was music and Santa came out to wave hello to children. I knew how nervous she was when she hardly acknowledged the snow—head tilted down, mouth set. She wanted to see Santa, but she wanted it all to be over with it. I felt for her, so much then.

We all agreed ahead of time on a plan—everyone would go up to see Santa together. The boys would sit on his lap (which they loved, can’t you tell?) and Sophie would stand next to him (and that she did, at a distance). She gave him the letter. She asked for the scooter. He told her to always wear a helmet (for which we were thankful). And she did.not.cry.

I was so proud of her. I hope she was just as proud of herself.

“Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus.” —Francis Pharcellus Church

A Christmas Dress

January 14, 2012

Sophie, all dolled up for her preschool holiday party.

“When in doubt, wear red.” —Bill Blass

A Lesson Among Trains

January 14, 2012

Last month we went with Angel, Zoey and Mya to Cincinnati Museum Center‘s Holiday Trains Exhibit. Owen kept saying “choo choo” and “wow.” The exhibit included a small train children could ride, sans adults. While waiting in line I kept debating if I should let Owen and James ride it with Zoey and Sophie. I thought of the worst thing that could happen—they totally freak out, the “conductor” has to stop the train and I have to climb through the exhibit to get them. And I decided I wouldn’t let them. But then I thought some more. I thought about how much Sophie did at their age. Because of the boys’ gestational age, they don’t do as much as Sophie did when she was their age. They’re not as ready but yet I worry that I sometimes hold the boys back, because of my own fears—of logistics, for example.

And so, I let them. I loaded everyone into the train.

Owen flipped out. Thankfully, he did this before the train left. So I pulled him out, but let James stay. James did wonderfully. He sat on the seat with Zoey and Sophie the entire time. Sophie said once he tried to stand up and that she and Zoey told him he wasn’t allowed—that he had to sit down—and so he did. I was so proud.

And yet, I felt so guilty. I know Owen and James are two separate people. And I know Owen gets much more anxious and upset with strangers and strange situations compared to James. But yet, I felt sad. Sad that James got the experience and Owen didn’t. Happy that James was so happy and then, it occurred to me. Owen was, too. He loved watching the train go past, waving to Sophie, Zoey and James. He was happier off the train. James was happier on it. Sure, equality is important. I wouldn’t give Sophie and James an apple and not give one to Owen—if he wanted it. But I also wouldn’t force him to eat an apple, just because Sophie and James wanted it.

It seems so simple, but it was a good twin-mom lesson for me to learn. Most lessons are that I way, I think—seemingly simple, once learned.

“Life is a succession of lessons which must be lived to be understood.” —Helen Keller