Getting Bigger

I sat with most of our Cadette Girl Scout Troop this evening, listening to each girl read a poem or piece.  How much they've grown since we started our Daisy troop back in 2009!  Taller--one is even taller than me, which rarely happens (I'm about 5'7"+ so women are rarely taller than I am, much less tweens!)  Besides just being tall, they are so composed, so mature--young women caught between childhood and adulthood.  So even as they read "If" by Kipling and "The Road Less Traveled" by Frost, and even "Everybody Dies, But Not Everybody Lives" by Prince Ea, they also read from The Velveteen Rabbit and Shel Silverstein.  And they giggled and danced around playing charades.  I've watched these girls grow up and I'm not sure I really even saw it happening, even though I've seen them pretty much every other week for over seven years now.  They were little, little girls and now . . . well, they're taller than I am.

And then last night, we went to middle school open house.  Middle school.  Talk about time flying.  Do you realize the kids are closer to college than to kindergarten now?  In less than four years, they could be driving.  I had been nervous about middle school for them, mostlly worried about how they would make new friends.  Academics haven't been much of a challenge thus far and they are both approaching the new school year conscientiously.  Still, honors classes, French, changing clothes for gym, 9 different teachers, school clubs, kids from three other elementary schools.  And teachers who are just . . . so clearly not elementary school teachers.  It's a lot to take in.  For them, too!

But I like my kids and the people they are growing into, so, for now, I'm only sort of nervous about the next five years.

-=-=-=-
Kid Tidbit from school already:  When his French teacher asked the class what French they knew, Bud quoted Hamilton, "Oui, oui, mon ami, je m'appelle Bud!"

Summer Fun 2013: A Week of Playdates

Sis is a single child this week while her brother is at kung fu camp.  And she's loving it!

But not with me.

While I had visions of lots of mother-daughter activities--crafts, baking, American Girl dolls, just hanging out--she had visions of playing with all of her friends.  ALONE.

And so we've booked playdates for the whole week, here, one a day.  Morning to afternoon, lunch included.

And while it's not what I had envisioned, I'm glad she's having a great time.

Smad

"It makes me really sad and mad that people do stuff to animals. I'm so sad and so mad I'm . . . smad!" --Stink in Judy Moody, M.D.: The Doctor Is In! by Megan McDonald

"Smad" is our new favorite word. The kids first heard it on a Judy Moody book-on-tape during their drive to school or kung fu. They rushed upstairs, giggling hysterically at their new word, ready to see if I knew it. I didn't then. I get it now.

It is so apropos . . . of growing up, of growing older . . . of living. Bud is smad that he has to go to school when he'd rather stay at home. Sis gets smad at Bud, when he won't play what she wants. I'm smad that my foot hurts just as I got my back better. Mama is smad about that too (not at me, but for me, for her, for all of us). It even sounds like what it means.

Funny, the more I think about those feelings, the more I find they often go together. In NVC, both those feelings are said to arise in us when our needs are not met--we are sad to be let down, angry that things we wanted didn't work out. Helplessness, frustration, disappointment, lack of control. Smad.

But, what's the positive equivalent combination? Happy and grateful. Grappy? Hapful? We'll have to work on that one.

Separation Anxiety

No, not the kids.

Me.

And not about the kids.

See, recently, it has become very clear to me that the kids have moved on from their toddler/preschool friends to their new kindergarten friends. When they were thinking of friends to invite to Applepalooza, they named kindergarten friends; same when they chose who to visit as the Phantom the other night. And when we were thinking about whom to BOO after being BOOed last night.

I think it must be the first time they've chosen their own friends and actually engaged with them independently. As toddlers and preschoolers, when we would have a playgroup, they would mostly play alongside, in parallel play, with the other kids, though mostly they played alone or together. Only recently have they really begun to interact with the playgroup friends . . . just when we see them less and less. But, until now, if asked to name a friend, they'd pretty much name each other.

Now they're naming friends I don't even know. Friends I'm not sure I want to be friends with. Because of course, up to now, their friendships have been dictated by my friendships, out of convenience. And I'm not ready to move on from my friends of the last five years. We have been through a lot together, know each other, like each other. And so it's strange that my kids don't think of my friends' children as friends anymore. I almost want to apologize. Because I know the separation will only increase and more preschool friends will be left behind: this year, it's Halloween treats; next year, it will be their birthday party.

Except I know I can remain friends with my "old" friends even as my kids move on, that I don't have to abandon them to make friends with these "new" moms just because my kids do (though, that said, I like some of these "new" moms, too). I've been trying to think about what concerns me the most: losing my cohesive and comfortable support group? finding out we only had the kids in common and weren't actually as close as I thought? missing my friends because we see them less? hurting my friends because we see them less? being rejected by the "new" moms at school? But who the kids play with is not about me anymore. I have less control and more uncertainty. And there is just more independence and separation.

Just one more way the kids are growing up, I guess.

And me too.

Moving on Up

Bud has a new car seat. Officially, a booster seat, which uses the car's shoulder harness to secure the child (instead of the more confidence-inspiring 5-point restraints of a car seat). Even though the seat is much shorter than his old one, meaning he can't see much, he looks so grown up and loves his new car seat. He had finally outgrown the other seat.

Sis, however, hasn't grown out of her old one, creating this difficult carseat tension. She is in her old one, even though we purchased the new one to install the minute she grows a couple of inches (he is taller in his back, she in her legs, so that even though they are only an inch apart, her sitting height is almost 2 1/2 inches less). She has enough issues being small, knowing she is the littlest one in her class. She even told the big girl on Halloween that she might be small but she can run fast. I don't know what it's like to have a complex about being short, but Mama does, and we're trying hard not to make her feel like she is somehow lacking, that it is her fault that she isn't big enough for a new car seat.

While they have long reached milestones at different paces--she walked first, he talked first, etc.--they are only just now aware of it and bothered by feeling behind. So, while we celebrate his new car seat, we comfort her disappointment. It's a parenting tightrope walk. I imagine it will be ever thus.

A Bed Raising

We're dismantling the kiddos' toddler beds today, after 4 years of nightly service. And before we started to take the beds apart, Mama raised the mattress to baby-crib level, at Sis's request. She had wanted to see what her bed looked like when she was a baby.

A baby.

Two babies. In one crib, in the beginning.

I remember the night my mom, not yet Gommie, and Mama, not yet Mama, had built those cribs. I was incredibly pregnant and uncomfortable and propped myself up in a corner taking pictures and even napping while they built the two cribs. Seeing them completed was unreal, but certainly forced a kind of recognition of the reality that there would eventually be two babies in those cribs, if all went well.

And then, there they were. Two babies, in one crib, at that time in our room for easier feedings. So small that there was still lots of crib leftover. The sun would shine in on them, swaddled in their striped hospital blankets. For fun (for us!), we'd put stuffed critters in there with them during awake times and they would just stare and reach. And attached to the crib was their nighttime "sleep sheep" that would make a variety of sounds that were necessary, for us, for them to sleep. Mobiles and other things came and went but "sleep sheep" and later the starry turtle were nighttime necessities. Again, more a ritual for us than for them, but whatever works, right?

Pretty soon they learned to roll some and, on the day we woke to find Sis kicking Bud in the head and him unable to roll away, we moved the crib into their room and separated them into their own beds. Where there was still more crib than baby. And again, we put a few toys in their cribs and we'd know they were awake when we could hear the aquarium toy in Bud's bed or the rattle of the dragon in Sis's crib. Later, as they could roll and then sit up, we lowered the mattresses to the lowest point. And the day they crawled over the rail, took off all their clothes, and danced in the middle of the room, we took the rail off to make big kid toddler beds.

Now, there is more kiddo than bed and it's time to move to big kid twin beds. The awareness that it was time for a change has been slower in coming than the epiphanies of the head-kicking or rail-crawling incidents. We noticed that they just didn't seem comfortable, seem to fit, in their beds anymore, which is partly because their number of critter companions has grown, but also because they've grown. And so, we bought new beds. Over and over again this morning, the kids have asked questions, obviously concerned about the change (despite lots of prep, with the choosing of new sheets and comforters and looking at the boxes of the new beds on the porch). "Why are you taking my bed apart?" "But I only like my old sheets." "I can't sleep if I don't see Sis." "Are you going to give away my critters too?" "You're not going to bunk them, right?" (right.)

And Mama and I are anxious too, for other reasons: are the new beds sturdy enough? should we have kept shopping around? how will we arrange them in the room? will the kids sleep?

And how did our little babies get to be so big?

Twin Twins

We have bought the kids new beds, as they (and their critters) have outgrown the cribs-turned-toddler-beds they've had since birth. In the beginning, they actually slept in one bed together, only separating into two beds when they would roll and kick each other without being able to roll back! Then the cribs became toddler beds the day they both climbed out during nap time, stripped all their clothes off, and danced in the middle of the floor laughing. They were just shy of two years old and have never napped again. Now they are outgrowing their beds, stretching almost to the tip when sound asleep. So we've been keeping an eye on choices. We liked headboards with bookcase shelving and captain's beds with underneath storage but frankly our house is just too small for two of those to fit in one room and leave any floor space for playing. And, as much as we like bunk beds, we're not sure it's safe for them yet and want an option for when they move into separate rooms (which we don't plan on until later elementary school at least, both to save space and to promote sibling bonding). Today I saw these beds at the warehouse store. Yes, it's a bunk bed. But it can also be two separate twins. So, two beds now, bunk beds when they're older (the packaging says not before age 6), and then separate beds again if/when they have their own rooms. And there should still be space in their room to play. Problem solved. Well, except now they will need new sheets and blankets. And I'll have to get used to them in big kid beds. But the hardest part will be passing along their cribs to someone else.

"I Want to be a Kiddo When I Grow Up"

It started with coffee.

Bud now helps me make my daily cups of coffee and tea (we have a Keurig, so this is easier and safer than it sounds--lots of enclosed cups and buttons to push). But I always remind him that it is hot and to be careful. Today, I explained that Goo had burned himself when he was a toddler by spilling a hot cup of coffee on himself. He went to the hospital with severe burns and was there for awhile. Sis, hearing a story about Goo, came into the kitchen.

"Was he all alone?" Sis asked.

"No, Ar-Ma went with him. Because, you know, Ma is Goo's mommy."

"That is so weird . . . . Goo doesn't live with her," Sis pondered.

"No, he lives at school. When kiddos grow up they leave home."

"I want to be a kiddo when I grow up. I don't want to leave. Ever!" Sis exclaimed.

And I said okay.

You've Come A Long Way, Baby!

Yesterday, we went out to lunch at a restaurant we should boycott for their previously homophobic employment policies (which are totally legal because there is no federal protection for sexuality in the U.S. The restaurant chain has recently changed the anti-gay policy), but we like the "home-cooking" and the little store in front is a great distraction for restless kiddos.

We were seated next to a family with baby twins, probably about 6 months; I'd guess fraternal twin boys. There they were with their two bucket carriers propped up in chairs. But the babes were both in arms, one with each parent. Each was actively shoving a rattle into his little toothless mouth. And before they began to eat, their parents spread plastic sticky placemats on the table. We had those, with Sesame Street characters--which at the time we couldn't identify because we a). didn't watch tv and b). didn't talk. I don't remember what the kids ate, though I saw bottles. By the time they were eating I was too distracted with my own kiddos. But I did lean over, having been caught staring for the umpteenth time, and say "It gets easier."

They said, "You're the first one to say that."

But it's true, sort of. The sheer physical challenge of twins--feeding at the same time, holding at the same time, anything at the same time--abates with age as they can do things for themselves. Then the, let's call them, discipline problems start. Because twins are always in each other's space and the fact that they can't developmentally think their way to sharing yet makes life difficult. So, you constantly deal with taking turns, physical aggression, waiting, and patience, and all the meltdowns that occur when they can't handle those things appropriately. When my toddlers attack, usually over some toy that one had and the other, who couldn't have cared less, decides he or she wants, my friends shake their heads and mutter, "I don't know how you do it." Well, most of them have babies right now (or hope to soon), so they're going to find out eventually (and they're seeing more of it during playdates and such). But having to deal with these issues is less stressful for me because at least we're learning life skills in the process; there was no real lesson being learned if one baby had to cry on the floor or in the swing while I held the other crying baby. It would break my heart. But, now, when one pushes the other, my heart doesn't break as I worry about future ramifications of such behavior (realizing meanwhile that it's age appropriate and not really an indication of future problems) and I know what to do--we do timeouts for any physical aggression--no warnings, instant "in the timeout spot." Any other transgression gets warnings and appropriate repercussions.

Anyway, so I told those twin parents that it gets easier--which is what dozens of twin parents told me when they'd see that double stroller. It always made me feel better to know that someone understood.

And so, I turned away from the babes in arms to my own kiddos, whom DP had taught the spoon trick to--the fact that you see yourself upside down in the bowl of a spoon. DS looked a bit and went right back to his cereal in book game (which we'd bought at the church booksale that morning--he liked to turn the page with the cereal still there and only later decided to eat the Os), but DD was fascinated and started making faces. Puckered lips, bared teeth, lopsided grin. She tried to put the spoon down to stretch out her mouth with both hands, so I held it so she could see. And then I flipped it over and she was right-side up. Wow. She couldn't get over that and kept flipping the spoon over and back and making these great funny faces.

Yeah, much easier than holding her on my lap. And much more fun.

They're Growing Up . . . into Ewoks

In nine months, my kids will be in school.

Nine months was a long time when I was pregnant, but it's a nanosecond now.

Funny how things change.

Kids, not babies. In school.

Sure it's preschool, but it's still a few hours totally away from me.

I had a taste of it this weekend when we left them at holiday childcare for three hours so we could run errands and such. We totally trusted the people with whom they were staying--and the kids knew and loved them so that wasn't a problem either. But within about an hour, I was thinking about them and actually nervous that they weren't around.

And it's not like I didn't have distractions--we had a marvelous New Haven pizza lunch. But I didn't want to run errands--already feeling edgy and faraway--so we headed home to do some chores. And instead I tried to nap on the couch, which didn't really help. In the end, I woke DP early to go get the kiddos.

Who were fine. No, more than fine. Grand. They were having a grand ol' time. They'd made ornaments and wreaths and other holiday doo-dads. DS was apparently transfixed by glitter and had the caregivers fill his clear ornament ball with as much glitter as it would hold. He also directed them on what to put on his wreath and helped them punch holes in stars to string up. DD worked on her own ornaments and wreaths, too, but became a little upset when she and DS were separated during storytime (DS stayed behind to string more stars). But all's well that ends well--they had cookies and apples and were playing "Star Wars" (ah, second generation!) with the older kids when we got there. As the shortest members of the troop, they had been designated Ewoks.

And they did it all by themselves.

And so, a rarity occurred: I heard other people tell me about my kids, about what they'd done that I hadn't seen. In fact, it started even before I entered the building, with a friend commenting on how well they did. I was, of course, relieved. But the appearance of the holiday projects really brought it all home--I mean, these were the first art projects they've done without me--they were growing up and away.

Which is, of course, exactly what I want. I don't want dependent little kids who can't be away from mommy, anymore than I want to be the mommy who can't be separated from the kids. But two and a half years of togetherness is a hard habit to break. I was so glad to see them and so proud that they'd been happy without me. But so sad to think that this was going to be the way of it from now on. Or from September on. I still have a few months to get used to it. I'm not even sure what "it" is, so surprised am I by my reaction (and I cry just about everytime I think of it). Mind you, it's not that I haven't left them before. I'm gone a few hours each week for physical therapy and leave them with their babysitter, who has been with us for almost as long as the kids. But that's in our home and I have a good sense of what they're doing.

It sounds like I don't have any boundaries, any self-differentiation from the kids, or whatever the clinical term would be. I'm not one of those moms who lives through her kids, even if right now every aspect of my life revolves around them. They came into this world with characters--wants and desires, attitudes and tendencies--and are their own people. My role as mommy is to help guide those characters through the experiences that life throws at them, to support strengths and encourage weaknesses. They aren't extensions of me, anymore than DP is an extension of me. We're all individuals in a family.

They just haven't been this individual before. Individuals who made these gorgeous holiday wreaths by themselves that I am going to treasure for the rest of my days . . . as I watch and celebrate as they grow up, into themselves.

Is that a Question?

"Mommy want to leave?"

The children looked at me from the edges of the coffee table, desperate to climb on top.

My kiddos don't need me anymore. Just now, both DD and DS queried, "Mommy want to leave?" Which sounds like a question, but isn't, if you are familiar with their sentence structure. When they want you to do something, they phrase it as an question, when actually it is more of a statement. The above should be translated, "Mommy, I want you to leave." It took me awhile to understand this construction but, after weeks of "Mommy want to put my shoes on?" and "Mommy want to hold Shirt?", I figured it out.

So, today's question was actually a direction. One that asked me to vacate the premises so that they could play on top of the table.

I never thought the day would come.

Now I can catch up on those long blog posts.

Right after I stop crying.

While they dance on the table.